I was at the shops when a girl floated past. A few seconds later her scent followed, filling my nostrils. It made me think of you. It was your scent. I used to smell it every day when we were together. And when I was alone. Especially when I was alone. It was not only in my clothes but in my heart.
We used to play stupid games with each other. We'd watch strange looking people go by and come up with a character name for them. Do you remember the Purple Leprechaun? Or the Goth Cowboy? Afterwards, I'd use your full name disapprovingly to chastise you. And you hated it. But you'd laugh. I loved to hear you laugh.
Even when we weren't together, I used to think about you constantly. Wonder whether you were smiling, laughing. Hoping you weren't sad or feeling alone. I made sure you knew I loved you. It was all I could really offer. I didn't have money or a fancy career. Or any future for that matter. But I had love and I had you.
Then you left. You left and it hurt. My stomach retched, my head ached. I was sick. Sick for weeks, for months, for years. At least I think I was. I have a vague memory of a misty thought. Like a dream of a dream: colourless, without shape.
Even in my pain I would picture you naked. It was easy. I knew every part of your body: where your skin was soft and where it wasn't; the location of every cute dimple and tiny lump. Now I can't even remember your body shape. Did you have an hour-glass figure, like the girl that went past? Or were you straight and thin? This isn't right. Why don't I remember?
I would go to bed each night humming the M*A*S*H theme song, hoping beyond hope. If I couldn't be with you then there was no point. The easy way really did sound easy. Even in those moments I'd still know you better than you'd know yourself. Even if I couldn't see you, I'd still know what you'd be doing, what clothes you'd be wearing. You loved to wear...jeans? Or was it a dress? Black? Red? I used to know all this, know everything about you, think of nothing else, but now... Now I don't know. Why don't I know?
Whenever I closed my eyes you were there in front of me, blinking in that cute way. Did you even have a way of blinking?
Did you have funny shaped lips or am I thinking of someone else? Why can't I remember?
We tried to be friends. You'd talk to me about what books you'd read. Did you read? Or just watch DVD's? Did you like documentaries? Maybe we weren't friends. Maybe that never happened.
Come to think of it, I'm not even sure it was your scent. I thought smells were connected to memories. That every scent you inhaled brought back poignant thoughts and feelings; those of long ago. Did I just hope it was your scent? Is my mind playing tricks?
It's funny. You were such a huge part of my life. How can I forget someone who filled my soul? How can I forget someone who crushed me and brought me to the brink of an early death?
You know what's even funnier? I can't even remember your name.
© 2010 Ben Safta
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Australia License
