Claudel. Maybe she was moving and didn't want to say so for some reason. Ma was right. Lucy and her mother were so secretive. But she didn't agree with Ma that "that Claudel pair probably had things to be ashamed of, covering up their past."
"Oh you are? That's funny, I was just going over that way to get something. I'll go with you and help carry."
Lucy contemplated the suitcase. She would rather have had herself for company this afternoon. There were important things to think about, and Vida was such a chatterbox. Though in some ways she was very smart. Why was she out of breath, the suitcase wasn't as heavy as the makeup box. "What are you so out of breath for?"
Vida's heart was palpitating for fear that Lucy was getting away from her. Besides, she had those cramps today and walking was uncomfortable. "I am not! Are you moving to Brick Street?"
"I'm going to pose for an artist in my ballet costume."
Vida gaped. Worse than she expected. "An artist! Where do you know an artist from?" In her consternation she overlooked the grammatical admonition never to end a sentence with a preposition. That was what came from having to help around the house while Lucy went out and had all kinds of exciting things happen to her.
"Oh, I just met him when I was shopping yesterday. He's going to pay me half a dollar an hour to show him the right ballet positions. He has a cute red beard."
A-ha, Vida thought jealously, so it's a red beard that's cute and not my new red dress. Imagine going to a strange man artist's studio. Romantic possibilities vaguely imaginable on the basis of her reading occupied her seething thoughts for half a block. "Aren't you afraid to go there alone?"
"Afraid of what? It's across the street from the Bison Club." Vida asked the silliest questions.
When at last they reached the red, yellow, and blue house, its primary colors reminded Vida of her school water-color box, an object she only hazily until now had associated with the word artist. Lucy took her suitcase from Vida with businesslike brevity. "Thanks. Goodbye." The dismissal was inexorable.
Vida walked away slowly and then, turning to pick up an imaginary object, strained her ear to hear Lucy's reception. The blue door closed on Lucy's high disappearing laugh. Vida loitered about disconsolately and then an idea struck her.
I think I'll go home and paint Lucy with my water colors.
***
