"Well, we are working on a performance of sorts," he said.
I looked at the shoes. None of them would fit me either. "I couldn't get into these, costume or not," I said. "Don't worry about that then. Go barefoot for now." Some pairs looked old and faded.
"What kind of a store sold you this stuff?" I asked. "They look like thrift store clothes."
"I told you," he said a little sharply and sternly, "it's not important." The-surprised look on my face brought a calming smile to his. "What's important is what we do, not what we look like. For now, that is," he added. "I tried to provide everything you might need," he said, nodding at the dresser.
I glanced at him and then slowly opened a dresser drawer. It was filled with undergarments, but the panties and the bras were too small as well.
"You bought all this for me?" I asked.
"I just had a package thrown together," he said quickly. "I wanted you to feel at home here, comfortable, as if this really was your room, your little dollhouse, too."
"I heard you say that, but it seems quite large for a toy," I said gazing around the cottage.
He laughed.
"As large as the love in my heart. That's what I used to tell her every time she or someone else remarked about something I had given her being too extravagant. Well," he said, pausing and looking around with a smile that involved every part of his face, "here it is. Don't you just love it all?"
I followed his gaze, shaking my head, my thoughts rushing about in a maze of confusion.
"I still don't understand what I'm supposed to do, Mr. Endfield," I said.
"Let's begin with the simplest of things and work our way through," he said. "I'll create the scenario for you. Set the scene as it were. I think that's the term your stage directors use, is it not?"
"Yes," I said.
"Fine. This is your home or apartment. You are to imagine that you are now living on your own. Every child must leave the nest someday," he said, his expression darkening like someone who had to face an unpleasant truth. "The Bible even tells us so. But that doesn't mean we have to let our children go unaided or ill advised, does it?"
"No." I said, even though I still didn't understand where all this was leading.
"Of course not. Of course not:' he muttered. He looked like he had forgotten his point himself and then he lifted his head, his eyes bright again. "Okay, now tonight you are going to entertain a producer who has shown interest in you. You're naturally excited about it. It's your first experience of this sort. I'm sure you've fantasized about such things, have you not?"
"Not really:' I said. "I've just begun to study. It will be some time before I actually audition for something professionally."
"No, no, no," he said as if I were ruining the scenario. "Once you step on a stage, you're vulnerable to all this. You're exposed. They're all hovering out there, predators, swooping down on the young and the innocent such as yourself. You're not in my home anymore. You're not under my wing, you see."
"Not in your home?"
"Exactly," he said. "Why, tomorrow, someone like that could come up to you after school and say, 'Rain Arnold, I've been watching you and I think you might be perfect for a new production I'm beginning. I'd like you to audition and I would like to be personally involved in this.'
"Wouldn't you be flattered? Come on," he urged. "Be honest, my dear. Wouldn't you?"
"I suppose so," I admitted.
"Precisely. Now," he said, crossing back to the closet. "You have this occasion. What will you wear?"
"Nothing in there," I said, pointing to the closet. "Nothing fits."
He smirked and shook his head.
"If you don't, how do they say it, suspend disbelief, we won't be able to do this. I told you to ignore the sizes. Pick a garment," he practically ordered, his eyes darkening as his face tightened.
A tiny alarm bell went off in the pit of my stomach and rang its way up to my thumping heart. He looked like a lit firecracker, ready to explode if I said or did the wrong thing.
"All right," I said. I plucked a lavender dress out of the closet. "How about this one?"
He nodded.