I have no claim to the characters of Clarice or Hannibal. I'm gaining nothing by this writing other than some self-satisfaction.
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The shop clerk, Chloe, is hovering at the edge of the parlor area that is just adjacent to the dressing rooms. She has the look of a piranha in her eyes and the stance of one ready to attack. I can almost hear the mental calculations ringing in her head as she figures out her commissions on the possible sales. She smiles encouragingly at me but does not approach. Chloe is obviously more interested in the occupant in one of the changing rooms. I'm not offended in the least. Chloe can shower her attention on that helpless victim. I prefer not to be overly bothered by the shop help when I am selecting outfits.
"Ah, Madame, that dress is utterly fabulous on you!" Chloe crows as a woman steps out into the parlor. "The color makes your eyes shine like the clear skies over the seas."
I turn slightly to catch a better look at the auburn haired woman who has come out. I can only see her profile. Chloe flutters around her blocking my view. She is wearing a sea blue colored full-length evening gown. I let my gaze linger as I consider her in the ensemble. The cut and the style of the dress are adequate but lend nothing to her look. The color is absolutely hideous on her in my opinion. She would do better in the colors of cream, coral or an emerald green.
Our eyes meet when she turns in my direction. I involuntarily freeze in place, feel my eyes widen and my stomach flutter. I suppress a shudder as I see this woman face on. She is almost identical in looks and movements to my childhood companion Mischa. I quickly turn away and feign interest in my own apparel. I want nothing more than to bolt. The pain of Mischa's death is threatening to start snapping at my heart. It has been six years but time has not eased the lost.
"The hemline might be lifted a bit…" I hear Chloe start to say but she never finishes her sentence.
"Please, I would like a few moments to consider this Chloe. I will speak to you when I have made a decision." The voice is directly behind me. There is silence as Chloe steps away.
I can feel the woman's focus as she scrutinizes me. I sigh inwardly cursing my reactions that have drawn her attention. I have no wish to interact with this female. I know that I have no choice. I take a deep breath and turn to face her.
"Good afternoon." I lamely say. I look briefly at her face and turn my gaze to look past her.
"Good afternoon." She replies.
She repositions herself so I have no option but to look her in the eyes. We stare at each other for a long moment. I am lost in a flood of memories. This woman's face and posture is unreadable to me. She hides herself well. My senses tell me that she is a bit alarmed by my reaction to her.
"You had such a startled look when you saw me. Is this dress so hideous that it should be burned, perhaps?" She breaks the silence.
"Hideous is a bit strong, but, it's not the most complimentary choice for you in color or form. Have you considered a Vera Wang?" I answer her in a rush of conversation. "I think that her simple elegant style would be very flattering to you. I believe there's a shop just down the plaza that has a wonderful selection of her designs."
"You must mean Marcelle's Boutique." She steps closer to me. "I am quite familiar…"
She does not finish her sentence. I know what she is asking me indirectly. I decide that my best course of action is to address this embarrassing situation head on.
"I must apologize for my earlier actions when I first say you. I meant no offense. You bear a striking resemblance to a dear friend who died a few years ago. I was just overwhelmed with things." I answer her. I cannot gauge her physical reaction but my instinct tells me I have sent up more warning bells in her.
"You are not an American." She replies in a flat tone of voice.
"No, I'm from Australia." I fumble in my efforts to ease this predicament. "I'm an Israeli by birth. I've called Sydney home for five years now. My name is Ari Levison."
"I'm Claire. Claire Dante. I'm originally from San Francisco but my husband and I have been in Buenos Aires for the past few years." She extends her hand to me. "May I ask, what was your friend's name, Ari?"
"Mischa." I watch Claire's eyes widen and surprise overtake her face.