To Smell You Once More
by Ruby Osborne
Northern Kentucky University
Ruby Osborne is a current creative writing student at Northern Kentucky University and is from Louisville, Kentucky. You can reach out to her on her Instagram, @rubyjosborne. She was previously published in Northern Kentucky University’s “Loch Norse Magazine” and American University’s online newspaper “The Eagle.” You can view more of her works and get to know her more from her website: https://sites.google.com/view/rubyosborne/home
You smelled like lavender when I first met you.
You waltzed into my life like how you walked into every room: confident, loud, boisterous. Your laugh encompassed the room and grew a garden of joy. You touched everyone around you as if they were a creation from your imagination.
For some reason, even though everyone had their attention on you, yours stayed on me. I still wonder to this day why it was me.
Your garden grew a vine and intertwined me into you. You were hooked; you didn’t want to let go.
I was shy at first, and weirdly, so were you. You hesitated with your words and thought before you spoke for once. Our jig had some awkwardness to it; some accidental missteps, and stomped toes here and there. We soon found our groove, though.
Push came to shove, and our jokes and teases became kissed with flirtatious undertones. We rubbed each other’s shoulders and let our hands linger a second too long. Our hugs became accompanied by hand-holding, and we were entwined and entangled in each other. You were hooked and I was hooked.
Or so I thought.
You smelled like roses when we were together.
The thorn of your smile when I asked you out plucked me. You always smile, but this one was special; it grew up to your eyes and your cheeks blossomed a warm, red glow, and you looked away out of embarrassment.
The girl who announced her entrance to every room, screamed aloud out of joy and happiness everywhere she went, was now too embarrassed to speak.
So adorable.
We spent our days holding hands and teasing each other. Everyone knew we were together but you just didn’t care, because you were happy. You found me and you picked me.
I thought I was happy, too.
Our first date was like any first date. Awkward, didn’t go as planned, but you didn’t let that deter you in any way. You laughed through it, just like you always do.
We were walking along the river at night, hand in hand. We stopped along the bridge.
I knew what you were expecting. I knew what you were hoping for. Your eyes dug into mine, practically pleading with me. You would never force it, of course, but I knew that was your expectation for the night.
But I was nervous. We had never kissed before. I had never kissed anyone before. You reassured me that we didn’t have to, but your eyes said otherwise.
Those eyes… plucking and prodding, pleading and persuading me.
I gave in. It was awkward, of course. Anyone who tells you it isn’t awkward at first is lying. But you were satisfied. You cheered and screamed and wrapped me tightly in your arms. And we did it again and again and again.
Each time your vine around me got tighter and tighter and tighter.
And while I enjoyed it, I was suffocating. I was choking. It was too much. It went against everything I had been taught in my life, shoved down my throat that kissing girls was wrong, years of guilt and shame interloping in my mind.
It was too much…
I just didn’t think I could be the person you needed me to be. At least not right now.
You smelled like strawberries when we broke up.
The sweetness and tartness of your smell only made this harder. I can't bear to think about that day, the only time you were not the confident, giggly person you always are. And it was because of me.
It was all my fault…
Yet you didn’t cry; you stared straight ahead, as I cried and apologized over and over again.
I told you you were beautiful, and you laughed like you always do, but it wasn’t the same. It was a cold, mirthless laugh, dry and full of despair. One that I had never heard from you before.
as if you were pitying yourself…
A laugh I never wanted to hear again.
I practically begged you to say something. I selfishly wished you would tell me you understood, and it was all okay, and we could continue being friends and laugh this off months from now.
But you didn’t. You got up and walked away.
You smelled like mint when I found someone else.
She didn’t smell like anything, or not that I remember. She wasn’t looking for anything serious, and neither was I. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt someone like I hurt you…
I brought her into our shared world, and I knew it was wrong.
I stepped away from you when you tried to hug me while she was around. You sensed it, you knew it before I even told you what was going on.
“Who is the girl you were sitting with today?” you texted me later that night.
“Oh, just a friend,” another lie escaped me. This one was deadly.
You didn’t speak to me. You walked into the room and the flowers shivered and weltered, desperate for that bubbling, comforting laughter of sunshine.
But you couldn’t give it to them, and it was all because of me.
“We should talk,” you said vaguely one day.
“Yeah, of course.”
“I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”
“Oh…” I felt the tears begin to form.
“You’ve lied to me too many times. I can’t trust you anymore.”
I looked away, and let the tears flow, while you sat and stared at me, never breaking the silence or your gaze.
You did not cry once the entire time. When you left, the smell of fresh mint lingered, coloring me in even more remorse.
She and I broke up soon after.
You smelled like a forest when we were friends again.
You gave me another chance to be friends, and your garden grew, and grew, and grew.
Your vine stuck out to me again. I knew it would happen. We were around each other so often, you always sat so close to me. Your eyes were always pleading as they had before.
This everlasting cycle continued because you and I were too stubborn to walk away for good.
I cared about you too much to admit that it was time to go.
So, I suffocated. I choked. I let go. I suffocated. I choked. I let go.
Your garden wilted, then grew, then wilted.
Rinse and repeat.
A concoction of fruits, flowers, forests, and oceans flew in and out of my nose each time. You were desperate. You were begging, digging those vines deeper and deeper into my skin, your smell poked and prodded my nose. You were wrapping around my throat, clawing in a desperate plea for me to stay.
But I couldn’t.
I suffocated. I choked. I let go.
And then, finally, you did too.
You smell like lavender again.
Our hugs and hand-holding became flirty shoves became lingering hands became teases then became words. And nothing more.
Your attention is elsewhere; your garden is still in my life, but I am merely a single bud among your large valley of flowers.
You told me once that you were insecure about smelling bad, which seemed so silly to me. I thought you always smelled good.
Oh, to smell you once more.
Interview with the Author
1. What inspired you to write this piece? What was your thought process throughout?
I actually based this on a personal, past relationship I had. I wrote this piece for a class last semester, and it really was wracking my brain as it happened fairly recently. The idea of the smells being the organization came from a discussion I had with my coworkers about how we associate certain smells with our exes.
2. What do you hope readers will take away from your piece? What effects do you want the piece to have on the person, community, or society?
I think oftentimes we see lesbian/queer relationships reflected only in the super positive times or the very negative times, with no in-between. I want this piece to be an example of both being reflected at once. Also, the perspective of this piece being focused on the person who broke apart the relationship in the first place is unique, and something we don't see quite often in queer literature. I want people to know that it's okay to let go of a relationship if you're feeling suffocated or can't put all of yourself in, even in a queer relationship, which is often much more passionate and much more intense.
3. What is your favorite piece of fiction (short story, novel, flash fiction, etc.) that you’ve ever read? Why?
I really love "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern. There isn't too much of a plot, but the magical fantasy and the character-building are so beautiful and entrancing! I really aspire to write like Morgenstern one day.
4. If you plan on continuing to write, what are some goals/plans you may have for your future?
I really want to get some more of my work published in the future! I'd also love to publish a collection of essays one day. Check out my Instagram for updates on that!