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Mary looks slightly sheepish. ‘I can’t set up camp in my bedroom because it’s too nice. You need to rough it for camping.’ She takes off her mittens, letting them dangle from her coat by the string woven through her coat sleeves. ‘I read that in a book.’
‘Mary—’ I try to sound admonishing while also whispering in the echoing gallery foyer ‘—you can’t just put your toys everywhere. It’s Thomas’s house.’ I remind her to remind myself. ‘And you’ve already taken over his den.’ And his bedroom.
‘Den?’ Mary looks confused.
‘The playroom,’ Thomas supplies, a wry twist to his lips.
‘Oh.’ Mary nods in understanding, then tilts her head at me, as if she’s talking to someone a little slow. ‘That’s where Barbie’s regular house is. I can’t set up camp in there.’ She scoffs like I’m being ridiculous. ‘It wouldn’t be much of a vacation if they could walk to it.’
I open my mouth then close it, my mind blanking on what to say next.
Thomas’s shoulders lift infinitesimally. ‘She may be spending too much time with my mother.’
‘Come on, Thomas.’ Finished with our discussion, Mary grabs Thomas’s hand and tugs him to the counter where she grabs every glossy brochure they have.
I sigh, part in exasperation with Mary and part over the adorable sight of Thomas holding Mary’s hand. Even with the return of his stoic countenance, he still seems… softer. Easier this morning.
Maybe it’s because it’s a Saturday. Maybe it’s because he got laid last night. Maybe…
This it isn’t permanent, I remind myself. Don’t let waking satiated from sex and finding the man who satiated you watching cartoons with your niece do things to you.
Like put tingles in your panties and your heart. Save that for your next romance novel.
Shaking myself, I try to stay realistic. Happy, but realistic.
I’m glad Thomas accepted my apology. I’m glad the attraction wasn’t one-sided. I’m glad Mary and I could take him on a surprise outing to thank him for—
‘Ooo, look at this one.’ Mary points to a photo of a woman chopping down a tree. A nude woman.
My mouth drops open and I stare. First at the bush in a forest and then at the other photos in this particular showing.
They’re all people in the forest. And they’re all nude. And while I’ve always been a believer that the human body is beautiful and art is art, my new, parental-like inner voice screams, don’t let her see the penises!
Thomas must feel the same because he slides a hand over Mary’s eyes.
* * *
Thomas
I scan the park we came to after ushering Mary blindly out of the ‘Getting Back to Nature’ exhibit. ‘Thank you for taking me to the gallery.’
‘I really don’t think you need to be thanking me for our ten-second visit.’ Alice shakes her head, her arms and legs crossed as she sits on the bench beside me. ‘So much for our thank you gift.’
Her need to thank me rubs. Probably because where she thinks my actions to home Mary were altruistic, in reality I was being a selfish ass. Something the papers she signed drove home yesterday.
My eyes pause on Mary making friends with a girl in a pink coat, while my mother, who joined us at the park, holds their place in line for the swings. ‘Never had so much fun in a gallery.’
‘Ha ha.’ Alice’s breath puffs out in the cold air. While cold, it’s still relatively sunny for a late afternoon in February.
‘No, really.’ I shift my weight toward her. Even wearing my overcoat, I wish I’d added a sweater over my button-down. ‘While I respect and appreciate photography as an artform, I mostly just enjoy taking the photos.’
Alice leans the rest of the way into me until our shoulders touch. ‘Because it makes you feel a part of what it is you’re taking pictures of?’
The surprise must register on my face because she leans back quickly, hands out. ‘Ah, sorry. Don’t mind me.’
I clear my throat, gesturing toward the playground. ‘I started taking pictures when I was Mary’s age.’
We watch Mary, nose red from the cold, run around playing with other kids.
