Perfume

One Spritz and I’m transported back.

It doesn’t take much.

Before the miniscule buds of dew have landed delicately on my skin, I’m there.

The scent, the thoughts flood in- like crystallised shards of time dancing urgently into the atmosphere of my memory, like a kaleidoscope, all bright and hopeful and young.

You bought this for me one Christmas and it became you, a part of me. I’d wear it all the time, it was a reminder that you were there even when you weren’t. That’s why I took it with me when I went away for those two months. It was the only one I took, the only one I wanted to take, the next best thing to you.

~

Swirls of yellow brushing by, clumps of snowflakes turning to liquid at my feet. The sun threatens to burst out from behind skyscrapers and enhance the vibrant blue sky; a contrast to this blistering cold, grey wind tunnel I stand meekly within.

The walking man turns from red to green and I am pushed along by the hurricane of people surrounding me. My mittened hands clutch the white and green cup that contains hot liquid energy. Cars honk impatiently and people barge to get to the start of their days.

If I were at home, I’d complain about these things to you. I’d go on and on about how much I hate the cold and how much I hate cities. I’d carry on about people getting in my way or touching me or yelling to each other across streets.

But being here is different. Something about it makes you think anything is possible, and that idea exhilarates me to the point where I don’t care about anything other than experiencing this city.

~

It was around two days before I left that I decided I didn’t really want to go without you. That nervous feeling of dread crept into every thought, every act- an imposter on my excitement- but I was able to push it all away until I was left standing at the departure gate on my own. Just waiting to board and knowing you were mere minutes away was enough to drain my eyes of fluid. The tears lasted until I got there- with the exception of the few hours of light, interrupted sleep I had.

That flight had one stopover. On this stopover, my phone and I hated each other. It clearly hated me for bringing it to a foreign country, and I despised it for refusing to work. I just wanted to hear your voice, I was so drained and sooky and tired.

There were no seats left in the transit lounge by the time my phone and I had argued our way from the plane into the airport. I sat on the floor in between and giant window and a potted palm tree looking out at the next plane that was going to take me even further from you.

Then my phone showed a sign of life by vibrating. I’m fairly certain I still carry the neck injury that resulted from me whipping my head down to my phone so quickly. When I saw your name in a little envelope my heart skipped.

Before I left, I’d promised myself I would avoid a hideous phone bill and not make any phone calls. This promise was disregarded as soon as I read, ‘I miss you.’ The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before you answered, clearly asleep. I told you that the next time I get the bright idea to travel to the other side of the world on my own, to stop me or come with me. You said you’d never stop me from doing anything I wanted, but that you’d come with me. This put me at ease as we decided to hang up.

I swung my attention back to the plane as smaller tears welled in my eyes. I knew it was going to be okay, this was going to be an experience I would never forget. I pulled my sleeve over my hand to wipe my running nose; the smell of it relaxed me completely. The perfume you had bought me took me to a place where you were. It was at that moment I realized I’d most likely be spending the whole trip with my sleeve to my nose.

~

Apparently, in this place, doors open in instead of out- a fact that always caused a moment of humiliation on my part. No exception to this was when I met my friend in a coffee house. I remember once I’d successfully entered the building and took a moment to make sure I could still feel all my limbs, I scanned the place looking for the one familiar face I had in this city. People huddled over books and laptops and phones; hats and scarves decorating tables and chairs, pink cheeks and noses decorating faces- all typical signs the world was freezing over.

When I heard my name, I almost jumped out of my skin. I followed the voice to a table behind me at the window. There was about five minutes of the typical ‘I haven’t seen you in forever’ conversation before it turned into making plans for our time together. I remember, she commented on the perfume I was wearing, saying it smelled like me. I remember thinking, with a slight twinge of sadness, it smelled like you.

~

When I first met you, I never thought in a million years we’d be together. I was this bumbling, fumbling mess of a person who couldn’t manage to string a sentence together if you were within earshot. That is why, when you asked me out it came as a complete shock.

That night, prior to the actual date, was amongst the worst of my life. Trying to decide what to wear and how to do my hair and makeup, thinking up topics of conversation so you wouldn’t think I was completely boring-; all while in a permanent state of panic. I actually don’t know how I managed to make it up to and through to the point where you showed up on my doorstep, all perfect, saying I looked beautiful.

After that, any night that was spent with you has never been considered among the worst of my life.

~

After we planned our time in the coffee shop, we put our plans into action. Weeks flew by as we shopped and saw sights and experienced a new and different world. I remember her saying that this night wouldn’t be about me missing you, it wouldn’t be about her missing her man, it wouldn’t be about my perfume and how it reminded me of you, it would be about a couple of girls out in a city, having fun. That is all.

The world spun in fast motion as we got ready. Alcohol infused pretty much every decision that was made that night and strangely enough, I remember it all in crystal clear clarity. We bounced around the room, sipping from our glasses, posing for our cameras, doing our hair and our faces. It was the kind of behavior that would make you scratch your head in confusion. Everything was funny and we were excited for a night out in the biggest city the world could offer.

Standing on the street, watching flashes of yellow burst by, we eventually settled on the idea of walking to a bar even though the streets were dusted with snow and all we had on under our coats were little dresses. We figured the alcohol would keep the sting of the cold out, so we walked and walked.

After twelve blocks and fifteen minutes of walking through clouds of our own breath, I made the executive decision we were going into the bar we were standing in front of when she had to fix up her shoe. It was called ‘Forty-Four’ and it looked like it had some kind of heating system so I was sold.

We found a table over by one of the windows and it was nice to sit down. I was quite thawed out enough to take my coat off so I kept the table while my friend went and got us some drinks. I liked the feel of the place we were in, welcoming and warm and white. White leather seating, white tables, white walls, the floors were even a whitish marble. It felt like a place out of a movie where the people in the movie go at the end of their working week, not a place I’d stagger into to get out of the cold.

The icy street looked so pretty now that I was able to see it without standing in the middle of it. It looked silent out there, like a bomb of white glitter had gone off and everyone was forced inside. It was such a contrast to the room I was sitting in which was scattered with people living their lives. It seemed like this little corner in this giant city had closed down to give me a moment with you.

I realized that, for the past few days, my tourist activities hadn’t really given me any time to miss you. This filled me to the brim with guilt. I was supposed to miss you all the time, wasn’t I? I lifted my sleeve to my nose and smelt nothing. In all of tonight’s excitement I’d forgotten to put the perfume on. Now I felt like this little corner in this giant city had closed down to remind me not to forget you. I leant closer to the window and stared, determined to have this moment. The mist of my breath on the window began to distort my view just in time for me to be greeted with my drink.

This moment was over. Thoughts of you spilled from my mind as I was informed that our drinks had been purchased for us. The drink purchasers joined us and we all sat around for hours talking and joking and laughing. I got to the point where I was afraid to stand up and go anywhere because I’d been sitting down drinking for so long, of course, this was when I realized I needed the bathroom.

When I stood up, I remember feeling like I was going to face-plant onto the table. I remember telling myself just to put one foot in front of the other. It probably would have been cool to be someone watching me at this point in time, I’m sure I looked like I was taking my first steps.

When I walked through a door and found myself surrounded by red walls and fluorescent lighting, I figured I’d made it to the bathroom. After I washed my hands, I did the usual once over in the mirror and, in true drunken form, decided I didn’t look too bad- although, the next morning, this conclusion was questionable.

After calling your phone to no answer, I decided I should probably get back out there. I straightened out my clothes and flicked my hair about a little; this action sent a waft of perfume through my consciousness. I wondered how I could I smell it if I wasn’t wearing it. Had I really had that much to drink? Can alcohol make you smell things? Was I having a stroke?

After disregarding the idea of a stroke, I remembered that it was cold and that because of that, I hadn’t washed my hair in a couple of days and because of that, I could smell the perfume that clung to my dirty hair. Like the mental patient this city was turning me into, I held my hair to my nosed and breathed the scent of you in. At that moment, my friend came in and told me we were leaving.

~

My friend went to bed and I couldn’t sleep. I flicked through magazines and TV channels until I decided to go out to the balcony and watch the sun come up. The city and I made plans for the day; I would explore the icy park and go and sit by the water. I would have coffee from somewhere that wasn’t a massive chain café and I’d buy gifts for everyone, including you. Before this day could happen, I needed some sleep. I napped quickly and awoke excited and ready for city and me time. I felt nervous and I still, to this day, don’t know why. All I know is, when I was napped and ready, I left without the scent of you.

~

Departure gates incite tears. I was dreading the flight home. I thought he flight over here, away from you was bad, I felt like this one would be worse. There’s something about flights home that makes it worse than any other flight. On this occasion, I didn’t want to leave this city. I felt like I had so much more to do but I had to board the plane.

The flight home was hard. I think it’s the familiar, it’s always hard to leave and always hard to come back to.

~

Not long ago now, we were down the coast a bit for a weekend away, our first real time together since I’d gotten home. You told me how excited you were to see me at the arrivals hall, that all of you missed every little piece of me. I agreed, even though there was a little piece of me that had been left somewhere on the snowy streets, it was true. I had missed you, but it wasn’t all of me anymore.

~

On a night out on our little getaway, I was getting ready for dinner and I was nervous and excited and happy and all of those things I am when we spend time together. I put on a pretty dress and dried my newly washed hair. I picked up the perfume you bought me that Christmas and relaised that I hadn’t smelled it since that night, in that bar, in that city, on my dirty hair.

One Spritz and I’m transported back.

It doesn’t take much.

Before the miniscule buds of dew have landed delicately on my skin, I’m there.

The scent, the thoughts flood in- like crystallised shards of time dancing urgently into the atmosphere of my memory, like a kaleidoscope, all bright and hopeful and young.

You bought this for me one Christmas and it was you.

Now, it has become there, a new part of me.