Page 127

"Once the movie's underway," I whispered, "we'll sneak out so I can show you the maze and the cottage. Unless you want to stay."

"Oh no. I want to go with you."

"Good."

The private little theater was designed just like a regular movie theater with soft cushion seats and a big screen. There were two big doors in the back. Momma even had the maids go up and down the aisle with bags of popcorn. Joshua and I sat in the last row on the aisle. Jennifer and William sat with us. I had already told her of my intention to sneak out with Joshua for a while.

The lights came down and the picture started. We waited a good fifteen minutes into the movie before I poked Joshua and the two of us snuck out. I didn't see Tony anywhere, but I could hear Momma down the long corridor, laughing in the music room. She was speaking to someone on the telephone. I led Joshua to a side entrance and we burst out into the daylight and hurried across the grounds toward the maze.

"What is that?"

"An English maze. It's very easy to get lost in there, but don't worry, I know my way through it. Now it's fun for me."

He held back, his eyes full of wonder as we entered. "Are you sure you know how to get out once we go deep in?" Joshua asked skeptically. I laughed.

"I'm sure. Don't worry. Besides, would it be so terrible for you to get lost with me?" I teased.

"Oh no, I. . ."

I laughed and went forward. He held tightly to my hand as I took us through the corridors and around corners, moving to the right here and to the left there swiftly and assuredly until we came out on the other side and faced the cottage.

"Doesn't it look like a little storybook cottage?" I asked, stopping to breathe it all in: the beautiful warm day, the pretty little fence and lush green lawn and the cottage itself, straight off the pages of a book filled with nursery stories. "It's so special."

"Yes, it is," Joshua said softly, his eyes full of excitement.

"Come on." I took his hand again and led him down to the front gate. As we drew closer, I was surprised to see that the windows still had their shades drawn.

"We'll go inside for a moment and then we'll go back before anyone misses us. After I had first seen it," I explained, "I used to dream of living in it with the man I love. At least, for weekends. We would come here to escape from the world and have only ourselves." I glanced at Joshua to see if he felt anything like I did. He had his eyes fixed on the cottage, but then he looked at me and smiled warmly.

We went up the short walkway to the front door. When I stepped in, I was surprised to find that Tony hadn't removed any of his art materials and supplies. The room was still set up like an artist's studio. But it had been so long since we had completed the work here, I thought. Why didn't he take everything out?

"Oh," I said in disappointment, "I thought it would have been turned back to the way it was."

Joshua came in slowly behind me. I went directly to an easel. There was a canvas on it, a painting of me lying naked on the couch. I didn't look at it long because I was embarrassed about it, but I realized there was something different about this painting. I didn't recognize it as one of the paintings Tony had done while I modeled here, and my mother, who had invaded Tony's images of my body, also pervaded the face in the painting. It was truly a mixture of the two of us.

"Wait," I said as Joshua started to approach. "I don't want you to see this."

"What? Why? What is it?"

"It's something . . . personal," I replied and quickly covered the painting with the white sheet. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he said quickly, even though his eyes were wide with confusion.

I looked about quickly to be sure there was no other evidence of what had gone on here. I saw some canvases in a carton on the right, but they were stacked so that no one could see what any of them were. Breathing relief, I sat on the couch.

"So this was an art studio," Joshua said looking around. "And Tony Tatterton created the portrait doll himself?"

"Yes. He painted and sculpted it here."

"What a talented man." Joshua sat beside me. "I can see how this could be a very cozy little place," he said nodding. "A hideaway."

"I used to love to come here. I still do. I just wish Tony had taken all this out and restored it to what it was. I don't understand why he hasn't."

"Maybe he wants to do more work here," Joshua suggested. The idea had never occurred to me. Perhaps he would talk my mother into coming here to pose or perhaps he would do another girl my age.

"Maybe. But I wanted you to see it the way it was . . . my make-believe home."

"It can still be that," Joshua said softly. "You can make believe anything is anything."