The smile faded from her face then as she recalled how it all changed. It happened the day her mother questioned her about the memories and the smells that triggered them. Piper was in third grade. She could remember it vividly, as if it had happened that morning. She walked into the kitchen after school and immediately heard her mother on the phone, which meant she could avoid the question and answer session about what she learned in school that day. Elizabeth smiled at her, held her hand over the phone receiver and whispered, “Hi, Sweetheart.” Piper stopped but wanted to make her way quickly to the living room to watch 30 minutes of Tom and Jerry before heading out to the barn. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, waiting for a response from Piper. “Mommy, you got tomato sauce on the ceiling.”
When she reached the couch in the living room a few moments later, she felt her mother’s hand grip her small shoulder and turn her around. “What did you say?!” Her mother’s voice was shaking and Piper wondered if it was because her hand was also shaking. Elizabeth was surprised to see that her hand was out of control and immediately pulled it back and gripped it with her other shaking hand. Again she asked, this time a little calmer, a little quieter. “What did you just say when you came through the kitchen?” Piper looked up into her mother’s pinched face and squinting eyes. Eyes that were searching for something in Piper’s. “I just said you got tomato sauce on the ceiling. It’s okay, Mommy. It’ll come off.” She looked down at her feet then, knowing her mother was still upset. “Piper, you didn’t look up at the ceiling. You didn’t. How do you know there’s tomato sauce there?” Just then Piper closed her eyes for only a moment, as the scent of ocean air reached behind her nose. “I just knew it was there.” Her mother shook her head. “No,” was all Elizabeth could manage.
Piper said in a quiet voice, “Vander told me you took the lid off when Mrs. Grant came over and it bubbled everywhere.” The scent of salty air came again and she smiled slightly as it comforted her. “Stop that,” Elizabeth commanded in a harsh whisper. “Stop smiling,” she begged. “Why are you smiling?” Piper answered, “The smells help me. They help me remember before.” “Before what, Piper?” Elizabeth’s voice decided shaking was warranted and this time she didn’t try to hide it. “Before the time I was in your tummy.”
The slap was severe and it stung like a horse tail stings your eye if you aren’t careful. She didn’t turn back to look at her mother. She focused on Mork and Mindy’s faces smiling brightly from the TV Guide on the coffee table. She didn’t know what was coming next but she bit her lip in anticipation. Elizabeth knelt down and grabbed Piper’s thin arms. “Look at me. Look at me this instant.” Piper’s brown eyes looked up through the tears. She couldn’t see the fear in her mother’s eyes but sensed it.
“This stops now, Piper. Do you understand me? This nonsense stops right now. You weren’t anything before you were in my tummy. Do you understand? Your life started just eight years ago. And those things you think you smell—those ridiculous make-believe smells — they give me a headache. Do you understand that?! Do you?!”
“Yes, Mommy. I won’t smell them anymore. The smell aches. I won’t.”
The horn startled Piper and she looked up to see the school secretary waving to her. She raised her hand in response but didn’t wave. The woman wasn’t even looking her way. As she approached her red Jetta at the far end of the school parking lot, she was flooded with the scent of lavender and, in her mind, saw tiny fragments of time: a baby’s cradle, a white blanket, sunlight slanting through an open window, a broom in the corner of a room. What room, what window, whose baby? Whatever, she thought. I’m done for the day. I’m going home to ride. The scent of lavender lingered behind her nose and filled her with a rare feeling of true happiness. Though fleeting, the happiness came when she needed it the most and for that she was grateful. She had a knowing that one day the happiness would settle down and stay a while. She turned up the radio and tore out of the school’s parking lot for the last time.
Chapter 4
DARRICK WAS LATE AGAIN—something Piper absolutely hated about him. It wasn’t that she was perfect, but waiting was something that got under her skin like nothing else. She was much too busy for that, and, after all, she didn’t make people wait for her.
And if they ever did, it would be for a good reason. Part of her felt that most people would not wait very long for her, much less look for her if she were missing; and part of her just thought it was simply very rude.
College had done wonders for Piper; high school had truly just been a waste for her and dropping out did nothing more than disappoint her parents. It devastated her mother in a way that Piper would never understand. Her plans were something she kept to herself and she never doubted she would be successful once she had a chance to take flight. She had to wait six months before being able to take the GED test and move on. And move on she did. She had met Darrick in an elective class called Myths, Monsters, and Mysteries at The University of New Hampshire taught by a woman who had a fervor and a passion for the subject. That, of course, is what makes learning fun and easy, something completely lost on most teachers who Piper had ever had the misfortune of having prior to college. Darrick was a good boyfriend, but from early on, Piper knew they wouldn’t be together forever, hardly. They had dated for three-plus years and she was getting really very bored with their relationship, their routine. What was once exciting was now mundane; what was once a debate was now an argument; what was once a thought-provoking comment, now fighting words. She was admittedly a hothead, but a loving one just the same. Darrick was a good guy, nothing more than a run-of-the-mill good guy—liked his beer, football on Sundays, and lots of sex. Nothing unusual: guys like Darrick were a dime a dozen and Piper knew it.
It wasn’t that she didn’t have feelings for him because she truly did; it was just that the feelings she had in the beginning were being replaced with new feelings, and these were of the sort that are not conducive to a loving, lasting relationship.
Darrick finally pulled up in his black Celica and opened the window to whistle at her as she stood with her hands on her hips, a gesture he knew well to mean that she was pissed at him. She looked over her sunglasses at him, not wanting to say anything nasty in case he had a legitimate reason for being late, like saving a drowning man or stopping by church to light a candle for his grandmother who had passed away suddenly last year.
As she folded her lanky frame into the tiny car, she quickly glanced his way—his clothes were dry as a bone, and, as far as she knew, he would never spend $2.00 on a candle for someone alive never mind for someone who was no longer on earth. Her eyes opened wide when she saw the reason for his tardiness. He had gotten the car stereo installed. The one he had been obsessing over for a few months. When they had spoken on the phone over an hour and a half ago, he said his car was in the shop, and he would be at her apartment in 40 minutes. Not wanting him to have to wait for her, she left her work on her kitchen table and walked to the corner to wait for him ten minutes early and spent the next hour worrying that he was sitting in a dirty garage having some expensive engine work done. A wave of boiling blood coursed through her as she realized that not only had he not had to wait for a mechanic to extract hundreds of dollars from his wallet, but when he called her earlier, he said that instead of dinner and a movie as usual, they were just going to hang out because he was short on cash. Now she could feel her temper begin to rise up and press behind her sternum as she tried to suppress her anger. Her heart was beating so hard that she could hear it in her ears and her hands began to sweat, her mouth dry as sand. She was so sick and tired of Darrick’s self-centered, boyish behavior and she intended to put a stop to it. Does he ever plan on growing up?
He turned to her, with his unequivocally adorable smile and said, “Hey babe, what’s shaking? Check it out—look what I got.” He pointed to the ridiculously expensive stereo and started to rattle off all the various specifications and attributes he admired so much. She remembe
red a time when he talked about her that way. Her mind had a way of shutting down in times like this, a defense mechanism she learned in college when a particular professor stomped on his soapbox and ranted about one thing or ten thousand others. Piper was the type of student who, as long as she attended each class, did not need to study much in order to get exceptional grades. Her memory was a gift in that it was like a sponge, literally soaking up information and trapping it. Sometimes though, her memory was a weapon, as Darrick was about to find out.
“Babe, aren’t you listening? I said, 6-CD changer—how cool is that? It’s in the trunk, wanna see?” He reached for the door handle, but Piper grabbed his forearm and could feel heat through his sleeve. Why is he sweating?
She took her sunglasses off and turned in the small bucket seat to look at Darrick, really look at him. Something in her knew that this was going to be the last ride in the “love mobile” with Darrick. She had nothing left for him; he was never going to grow up and be the man she wanted.
“Darrick, do you remember what you said to me when you dropped me off at the end of our second date?” She felt a little bit badly when she realized he had that clueless look on his face that most men do when they don’t know what their woman (mother, girlfriend, daughter, wife) is talking about. At the same time, that look started her blood simmering again. “I remember,” she said, seemingly letting him off the hook. He looked relieved. “You said, ‘Piper, you are so beautiful, how did I get so lucky? I have a feeling that we are going to be together for a very long time. I promise I won’t disappoint you like Rob did.” She raised her eyebrows to challenge him. No response?
At this point Darrick knew he was in trouble. If she was now going to say that he was acting even remotely like Rob, his former roommate, Piper’s ex-boyfriend, then he knew he had really screwed up. As if on cue, Piper looked out the windshield of the car, seemingly at something in the tree next to the coffee shop they frequented. She didn’t look back at Darrick as she said, “You know, I really believed you when you said that. I thought I had found my soul mate in you. I loved you at that moment and I couldn’t ever imagine a time when I wouldn’t feel that way. But lately you … you’ve been acting like … like Rob always did and treating me like an afterthought for a while now. I’m tired of it and I don’t want this anymore. I want,” she sighed and continued, “I want more than this.”
Darrick looked at her, reached out and touched her face. She wished he wouldn’t do that—she knew he was a good guy; he loved her in his own way. He gently tugged at her chin so that she would look at him. His good looks were even better when he was serious, and serious he was. And, as she took a breath, she noticed his cologne—the one he only wore on special occasions. She had given it to him on his birthday and made him promise to only wear it once in a while. “I love this cologne—but only on you,” she had told him.
He dropped his gaze for a moment and then looked back up at her, her beautiful dark eyes, watery with tears now. He took a breath and whispered, “Don’t do this, not now Piper. I love you. I need you.”
She wriggled her chin out of his gentle grip and stared back out to the tree again. “I love you too, Darrick, but … but I want more. I want to be with a grownup, not a child.” He winced; she felt it more than saw it. “I’m sorry, Darrick, but I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
She grabbed the handle, felt his warm lips on her cheek for an instant as she pulled herself up and out of his car for the last time. She turned, bent down to look into the car, saw the tear on his cheek and said, “Darrick—” but there was nothing left to say. Suddenly a scent-ache, the first one in a long time, filled her with a feeling of contentment, not lavender and babies this time, but something else, something she couldn’t grasp at first. She wasn’t aware that she was grimacing until she saw the surprised look on Darrick’s face. Burnt raisins? She stuck her tongue out and shook her head as if to clear the scent away. It wouldn’t leave. Did she even know what burnt raisins smelled like? Burnt raisins, indeed, she thought as her mind was flooded with waves of images: bloody linens, a tall man holding a baby and smiling, an older man sitting close, with tears in his eyes. She was filled with a feeling of love amidst this time of sadness.
“Babe?” Darrick wanted to hold her close. He loved her quirks and the scent-aches she spoke of though he didn’t really understand what she meant when she explained, “They are just there—doesn’t everyone have them?”
“Darrick, it’ll be okay, I’ll call you ….” And with that she shut the door and walked home. She would never know that Darrick went home and cried for days and that in the trunk of his car was not only the 6-CD changer but a bottle of champagne and a diamond engagement ring.
Chapter 5
SEVEN YEARS PASSED and Piper was in and out of several meaningless relationships with men who didn’t want anything more from her than what she was willing to give them. She hated to admit it, but she really didn’t want anything more from them, either. She was bored with the roller coaster ride her life had become: moments of high, clear views and exhilaration followed by a quick and often stomach-churning descent. She wanted stability and love and a family, but how was she ever going to find that when she couldn’t stand the men she was with? She wondered if there was something wrong with her. All the women she knew were either married, in a serious relationship, or were hell-bent on getting into one. She felt envy but couldn’t figure out if it was for what these women had or if it was for what she thought she should have but didn’t.
Piper would have been hard pressed at 31 to put it all into words.
But she tried. She still scribbled bits of poetry when the mood struck her just so, which was not often in the last few years; but now that she was alone, save for her new pup Viceroy, she spent much of her free time brooding, listening to music, and writing. This wasn’t a bad thing in and of itself, but certainly it did not lend itself to getting out and meeting anyone new. But did she want to meet another disappointment, another dead end, a man with promises to break?
She had often heard women say things like, “All the good men are either taken, gay, or dead.” She would laugh. Well, at least the taken ones will be available in about another ten years. And maybe even the dead one—in another lifetime. This thought made her feel calm, though she wasn’t sure she believed in having more than one go-round at life. In her adult life, Piper learned the hard way not to say too much in front of other women; she didn’t trust many of them. That was something that really bothered her: She could tell a man anything at all, from secrets to desires and fantasies, rumors and fears. But women—women were so different, and she didn’t really know why it had to be that way. They, especially a few she had worked with over the years, would so willingly listen to her, share things with her, and encourage her to spill it all, telling her that she would feel better if she did. And the next day, these same “friends” would hold it against her and proceed to promptly spread all of her most personal feelings all over the office, the lab, or stable, or wherever it was she happened to be working at that time.
Her favorite place to write was in the bedroom of her small apartment in Marblehead where the rent was so high that she could have easily moved a few miles west and saved at least $400 per month and lived in a larger space. But she loved the sea, the smell of the salt air, and the ocean breezes. It comforted her in a way that felt like home, though until now she hadn’t lived within fifty miles of the coast.
On her bed she had a quilt that Darrick had bought for her on their first trip to Maine together so many years ago. It was navy blue and white with little sailboats on the border. That trip had been so exciting, their first weekend together, just the two of them in a sleepy little fishing village. In the first year after her breakup with Darrick, she had packed the quilt away, not being able to part with it completely, but not thinking that she would ever be able to take it out again. But slowly, as with most painful things, time tended not to wash it away but to soften its edges in su
ch a way that it could be touched now and again without the threat of tearing you to shreds. Piper learned that even though remembering Darrick was sometimes hurtful, it also made her smile and she often said a little prayer in the hopes that it would find him well and happy. He was a good man, but she was certain he was never going to ask her to marry him, and that is how she justified never calling him after that day in front of the coffee shop. She knew that if she picked up the phone, heard his voice, the gentle way he had of asking how her how much did she love him, she would get weak and want to see him, and they would fall back into the old pattern of dating, keeping separate apartments, talking about the future that never seemed to come quickly enough for her. So she hoped and prayed for his happiness and for hers, too.
She wondered if he ever thought of her. She would remind herself of all the ways he showed his love for her. He always remembered her birthday and made a big deal out of Christmas and Valentine’s Day—especially Valentine’s Day. He knew she had a thing about the letter “V.” He didn’t know why; no one did. Not even Piper. But he indulged this little quirk of hers whenever he could. Anyone who knew Piper just knew that everything important in her life had a “V” in it if she had anything to say in the matter. There was her horse Victory, her new pup Viceroy, and even her cars were always Volkswagens and Volvos. She scribbled “Vs” on paper when she talked on the phone and in the sand at the beach. When asked, she would just shrug and say that it had no special meaning, just an easy letter to write over and over and over again. Sometimes in the shower, when she was in that state between waking and sleeping, she would squeeze the shampoo out onto her palm in a “V.” Her favorite names for children that she now realized she would likely never have were Violet and Vincent.
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