Girl in the Afternoon by Serena Burdick Page A

Leonie, or the redheaded model. She couldn’t.
    â€œI had one glass and told him I had to get on home. He said he’d walk me, but I insisted on going alone.”
    â€œWhat was he like? I feel he must have changed a great deal.”
    Leonie shrugged. “Gentlemanly, but sober. He didn’t talk much. I had to fill in all those blank spaces that are so uncomfortable when conversing with someone you don’t know.”
    Aimée got up and walked to the window. “Do you know where he lives?”
    â€œNo, I couldn’t think how to ask.” Leonie went to Aimée. From behind, she put her steady arms around her. “Don’t worry, love. We know where to find him now.”
    *   *   *
    The Place de Clichy was busy with foot traffic. Steam rose from the damp pavement under Aimée’s feet. The rain had stopped, but the wind picked up and pushed massive gray clouds across the sky. They made Aimée dizzy. Everything felt too close, the clouds, the people bumping her on all sides, her dress, her hat, her shoes, even her skin seemed to be suffocating her. Earlier, she’d stepped right into traffic and was nearly run over.
    It was a relief to see Leonie standing on the corner of the rue de Clichy.
    â€œThis wind is ferocious!” Leonie shouted, holding on to her hat strings. “Come, it’s this way.”
    She linked arms with Aimée and steered her down a boulevard lined with gateways that led into dark, narrow courtyards. They stepped around the marchand de fruits, past the draper’s shop and the herbalist, both holding tight to each other, Leonie out of excitement, Aimée for sheer stability.
    She’d dropped her spoon at breakfast, then had considerable trouble with the pins in her hair, and couldn’t seem to fasten her boots. It was ridiculous, her flustered insecurity, this giddy, feverish anticipation.
    Eventually, the large, glass shop windows gave way to smaller, darker ones. The street grew narrower, the buildings tight together. They stopped in front of a small café with a sign above the door that read Café Gravois . Aimée glanced through the densely paned window and immediately snapped around.
    â€œI can’t go in there,” she said.
    â€œOf course you can’t.” Leonie pulled her into a dark doorway. Far away a clock bell tolled the hour. “But, I can.” She righted Aimée’s hat, which had blown sideways. “That redhead said he dines here nightly. If he’s not here already, he’ll be here shortly. Wait for me. I’ll tell him there’s someone who wants to see him and bring him out.”
    Aimée shook her head. “I can’t do this. Not here.”
    She stood frozen with misgiving. All day she’d been nervous, but also thrilled. What she felt now was cold dread, a fear that her love would be dug up from where she’d buried it, brushed off and shown for what it really was: a lonely, one-sided affair. A fatuous, silly girl’s fantasy.
    â€œHere’s as good a place as any. He’s your brother. I don’t know the circumstances of his parting, but if I had me a brother, I would want to see him and set things right,” Leonie said with hands on her sturdy hips.
    Aimée wished that none of this was happening. What if he didn’t want to see her? What if he walked away?
    â€œAsk to sit for him,” Aimée said impulsively.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œTell him you need work. Ask to model for him.”
    Leonie dropped her hands. “He doesn’t pay,” she said flatly.
    â€œI’ll pay you.”
    Both girls were silent.
    Aimée lowered her head. “I’m afraid he won’t want to see me.”
    It upset Leonie, seeing Aimée so unraveled. Usually, her friend was as strong as she, and Leonie preferred a strong woman to a weak one. Aimée was not someone she was prepared to take care of.
    â€œI don’t see