The Scent of a Man

The smell of him lingered on the pillow. When he left she would smell the pillow for hours when first he slept over.

He smelled of the oils of his skin mixed with some oils he mixed himself. His special blend. It was intoxicating to her. It was from the first moment she meet him. Some olfactory drug that turned her libido on. She would never tell him this.


As her dark eyes with a golden rim were the same to him. He never quite explained what their to her. There was plenty of time. Plenty of time to tell her that the golden ring made him think of far off lands, exotic women in cheep stories and those women who tempt men in the old movies, the ones they just can not resist.


His smell lingered on his pillow, cool and soft.

She stripped from her clothes and fell into the big bed made for two. She grabbed the pillow, hugs it, smells it deeply.

She fell into the world of the unconscious.

Not really sleep. Somewhere else. There she still lay clutching the pillow. There she clenches her lover. He is younger. Still the same.He is in his prime. Before he got distinguished looking in the last 4 years. He smiles and holds her back.

This time is timeless and lasts forever.

Beep.. they smile into each other's smiling eyes.

Beep... they are not seeing anything physical. They see each other fully.

Beep... the physical drop away and they are bright and brilliant.

Beep... Will that beeping stop!

Beep.. She remembers it from somewhere. Somewhere far away. So far from this place.

Beep... She opens her eyes.

"FUCK!"

She gets up from bed.

Rolls out of the room. Stumbles around.

"Ouch!" She whacks into the door jam to the bathroom.

She starts the water in the shower and finishes her routine.

The mirror is fogged. It makes her look younger. The illusion he tells her is his reality. She lived in that foggy reality for enough time. She took the towel and moved away the condensation from the mirror. She was taken aback by her 41 year old face. She turns away quickly. She thought it was some one else. Not her. It was her mother's ghost. She is sure of it. Slowly it fogs over again. And she is 25 again.

She pushes the shower curtain away. The water is warm.

Everything stops. Time passes. Unnoticed by her. The sun rises higher. The shadows slowly move. All the memories of him. His touch. His laugh. The look in his eyes when he wants her. She loves it when he wants her.

She doesn't want to wash of the scent of him. She knows it is crazy. Or is it just sentimental.

She thought of jokes of women who hold on to long.

In high school she remembers a girl who didn't wash for a week because the boy she had a crush on finally fucked her. She would have loved to call it making love. But boys didn't do that back then and he did it on a dare. After a week the girl realized her virginity was taken by her own true love who saw her as a piece of meat. The girl finally took a shower then. The circumstances of the how she knew was beyond the cruelty of girls. Forced truth. One of the cruelest things girls do to each other. Followed by a forced shower by said girls.

She pulled her hand back from the shower's water. She was not ready.

She put the clothes back on that she had on last night. She forgets she has worn them already. It is all the same day all running together. Back to back. One long day. This is not the first time she has walked through this routine. Same cloths. Same day.

Beep...

The stupid reminder of the seat belt she hates. She secretly likes the illegality of not wearing it. Makes her an outlaw. Makes her dangerous. Makes her someone not to mess with. Makes her wild. It's the only illegal thing she does. It's the wildest thing she has done for years.

Driving in a head fog she forgets the trip.

Beep... She hates the sanitized smell.

She reaches over.

Beep... she hates the sound.

She pushes the leaver to the off position.

Beeeeee... ahhhhhhhhh.

Sound of air escaping it's host.

Finally the beeping stops.

She thinks she can rest now.

She is dead wrong.

"You bitch, what have you done!?"

"It was suppose to last another 20 years at least, maybe 30 or forty if we were lucky." She turns to the older woman screaming at her.

"But I was the only one who could do what needed to be done. You can hate me now if you want. At least you didn't have to make the decision. You can hate me for the rest of your life. I give you permission. And I will never fight it. I did it for you,too. I love you, he loved you. A mother should never have to do that for her son."

With that she walks out of the room and walks back in her fog .