10-16-24. 10-16-24. Wait maybe it’s 15. 10-15-24. I woke with those numbers in my head – repeating the sequence over and over. I could see the combination lock – standard Stanly. Silver. Black dial. White numbers. Little hash marks. right 10, left 16, right 24. I made my coffee. One scoop. Two scoops. 10-16-24. Three scoops. I turned the dial on the toaster oven past the half way mark. 10-16-24.
I don’t know the last time or place where I used a combination lock. When I wasn’t repeating the numbers, I was scrambling through my memory. Was it a gate? a shed? a locker? a safe? 10-16-24. Maybe it was the storage container on Rt. 1? I went back to old jobs. Digital safe – that’s not it. Regular keys or electronic key pads to front doors. Back doors. I went back to my apartment in Memphis – nope, nothing there. The house in State College – not there either. Yardley? Nope all keys, no combination locks. Maybe it was the safe in Sports Authority – a store that closed over ten years ago – a store where I worked the cash office maybe twenty years ago. Maybe it was a locker in high school. Skinny and tall. Ugly brown-gray. Dent near the bottom and slatted vents at the top. 10-16-24.
I feel like checking one of my junk boxes or junk drawers. I feel like there might be a combination lock somewhere. I want to test it out because the number doesn’t feel as ancient as my first post-college job or my high school locker. And if it’s recent, I might still need it – though I can’t think of anything I have locked away anywhere. I won’t go looking. It’s not that important. Or at least I hope it’s not something I need to remember. Thank god I’ve never had access to nuclear codes.