Warm

Marlie was just here. Gone now. Even after she leaves, I can still smell her scent lingering in places. Near my bed where she was sitting, in the kitchen (where she ate the last of my bananas), and by the front door. I could find her with my eyes closed in a roomful of people. I have found her with my eyes closed in a roomful of people.

If you've been reading, you'll remember how I said that she's the one with the good ears? Mine are absolute crap genetically (thanks, Mom), but I am the one with the good nose. I'm proud of it, actually. My eyes, skin, and ears suck royally at what they're supposed to do. My nose though... I've proved how good it is.

I think the first time I realized that my nose was a little more sensitive than other people's was early in grade school. Sometime between first and second grade. Of course it was Marlie's fault that I found out.

"Where are you going after school?" I'd asked her.

"Home. Why?"

"Want to come over?"

"Yeah. I'll ask my mom, but I think it's okay."

We got on the buses to leave school around 3, so I was expecting Marlie to show up at my house around 3:30. I was bemused when she didn't show up until 4.

"Where were you?" I asked. "Was there traffic?"

"Yeah," she said uncomfortably, and we both knew she was lying. I was only further confused because what reason would she have to lie to me, especially to try it when she knew she'd be unsuccessful?

"It's okay," I said, in response to whatever was making her nervous. I didn't want her to freak out. Sure, I was plenty curious about where she'd been, but it wasn't that important for me to know. I restrained my busybody instincts and reached out to hug her.

She hugged me back, and my nose twitched. "You've been at Tracy's," I said without thinking, and I felt her stiffen. Tracy's house, located on an old farm property, smelled like cat pee and eggs. Cat pee because they had stray cats all the time. Eggs because they couldn't afford to eat much else.

"Yeah," she said softly. "My mom wasn't home. I asked Dad to take me over instead. He drove me to Tracy's house because..." A long hesitation.

"Oh." Understanding dawned. I've said before that her dad's messed up, and I'll say it again. Just a few years ago when she was 16 and borrowing his car, he wouldn't let her park it at my house overnight. Said I lived in a bad neighborhood. I should mention that I live in upper middle class suburbia. Nothing ever happens here. We're literally across the street from the fucking police station. But even back in grade school, I knew her dad didn't like me. Probably because I could smell what was on him and instinctively didn't like it/him. By now, I suspect it was pot mixed with something even more serious. I haven't seen the man in six years. It's faded too much for me to identify.

Anyway, I could tell what had happened in the beginning. Her dad drove her to Tracy's and futilely tried to get her to stay there to play. It didn't work because Tracy was a bitch in first grade and I guarantee you she's one today. It also didn't work because Marlie and I were already closer than best friends and no one, including ourselves, understood how deep and important that bond was. (And forget the lesbian thing, we talked about that! Yeah, I knew where you went. It's cool. Moving on.)

Marlie, though thick as a block when it comes to reasoning, had concluded I would react with dismay, even though it wasn't her fault. If I could predict her (and I already could), she would bring some consolation prize.

I gave a loud sniff, recognizing my second favorite smell in the world besides hers, and she wasn't fool enough to mistake it for crying. She grinned at me, reached into her pocket, and pulled out half a Hershey's chocolate bar. I could picture Tracy's mom giving it to her while the woman argued with Marlie's "eccentric" father about bringing a child somewhere she didn't want to be. I could also picture Marlie slipping half of the bar into her pocket.

"Yeah?" she said hopefully.

"Come watch Power Rangers with me," I answered, and that was that.

Marlie smells like cinnamon mixed with warm. If you love someone, whether it's your mother or your brother or your lover, you know the way they smell. And you know what I'm talking about when I use the description 'warm'.

PS: What does your favorite person smell like? If you even notice, that is.