Blonde didn’t suit her as much as her natural dark brown.Her hand absentmindedly went to her neck to play with the gold locket. A thought occurred to me.Peeling off the highway at the first exit, I pulled over. “Give me that locket.”“Why?”“Because. Give it to me.”Her pale blue eyes narrowed in distrust. “What do you want it for?”“Your father gave it to you. I want to check it.”“Oh.” She removed it and handed it to me.I inspected it. It looked innocent enough - a simple locket. Opening it, I studied the photos. They looked normal; old, slightly distorted like they’d been shrunk and reproduced from Polaroids. Pulling a pocket knife out, I pried the frames open and removed the photographs.Callie warned, “Be careful!”Nothing. There was nothing hidden behind them. Reassembling it, I handed it to her and pulled back onto the highway. She carefully put it back around her neck.We breezed through the border as Julian and Suzanne Hugot. I headed directly towards Paris. There was someone there. The object of my fantasies, and model for the painting I was working on, gave Morgan and Annette each a hug and then approached me. I kept my eyes closed behind the dark glasses. I’d only seen her in class since the darkness settled in and I’d treated her remotely, never saying anything. I was pretty sure I’d destroyed whatever relationship we might have had.She stood beside me looking at the painting I was working on. She was quiet and I felt the other three women gather behind us. Mavis moved up against me and turned to hug me to her. Her head rested on my chest and I could feel her tears as they soaked into my t-shirt.“I’m so sorry, Artie,” she whispered. “I never intended to do this to you. I’m so sorry.”“Um ... uh ... Lowen ... Lowenstein,” I managed to get out. How did Mavis figure any of this was her fault? It was Lowenstein calling me the Kinkade of draped nudes. Telling me he was disappointed. Me knowing that my happiness had destroyed my art and then sacrificing my happiness.
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