Of Lavender and Pine Needle

Barcelona, October 2017

Life sucked, period. Ian tapped his fingers on the table, his breakfast untouched and cold, while he gazed at the crowded streets from the window of the hotel that he’d been staying at for the last two days after his husband died two nights ago. All memory of Carlos, his handsome and goofy husband with a smile etched on his lips, began fading away with each passing minute. Ian hardly remembered the sound of his voice. His eyes burned with the moisture that built up in his eyes. He tightened his hands into fists and bit hard on his lip, stopping the scream from escaping. 

“Are you all right, sir?” asked a small voice.

Ian jumped, and wiped his tears before glancing at the waitress’s concerned face.

“I’m fine…just thinking about a sad things,” he said, sounding cold to his own ears.

The waitress hesitated. Then nodded and left. Ian decided that he was tired of sitting and crying. He grabbed his coat and left the hotel. Despite his thick clothes, he tightened his coat as the autumn air brushed past him. He felt a hole burning into his chest; his only reminder that this was not a dream. With shoulders hunched and hands inside his pockets, Ian walked around town attempting to escape the loneliness that awaited him at their—his house. Ten years of marriage, filled with hopes and dreams, gone with a snap of the fingers. His husband taken away by a drunk driver while the perpetrator remained alive and well.

Life was never fair for bad things happened to good people while bad people enjoyed all the luck in the world. Hot anger rose up through his cheeks and Ian tightened his jaw, his heart absorbing the sentiment and locking it in the vault he had built. His senses numbed down. Of their own accord, his feet took him to places he had never been. It wouldn’t matter where he went, no one would miss him. Passing through the shops and kiosks was a familiar scent that shook him from his thoughts. He paused and inhaled. The sweet, light flora, mixed with clean forest fragrance, registered and the vault began cracking. Memories flashed before him, taking him back to that day.

***

Ian had recently moved from Madrid to Barcelona to work as a history professor in one of Barcelona’s universities. It was almost eight in the evening when he finished his last lesson for the day. He paused at the door and glanced outside before stepping out. Never in his life had he feared walking out late, but this was not his city of birth and he still had not made any friends. His hand grasped the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white. He felt unknown eyes glued to his back. Great…

He peeked over his shoulder before resuming his walk. Someone was following him. Walking faster, he stepped into the first shop he could find and joined a line while pretending to be interested in the merchandise, blood still pounding in his ears. The scent of herbal oils and flowers mixed with food centered him.

“Did you find everything you need, sir?” asked a voice, startling him.

Ian locked his gaze with a pair of brown eyes, all rational thoughts melting. Forgetting his predicament, he couldn’t help admiring those eyes. Among the brown, two small stars twinkled and reflected the light back like a mirror. He closed and opened his mouth; his words stuck in his throat. The man raised an eyebrow at his lack of response.

“Oh…um well,” said Ian, glancing behind his back.

He caught the clerk glancing at the man that stood outside of the shop. The man glanced at the shop and at the people inside before he walked away. Ian sighed in relief. The clerk smiled, a dimple appearing on his cheek. He tapped the woman behind him and whispered for her to take charge before returning his attention to Ian.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, strolling to the bar section.

“Sure,” said Ian, sitting in the chair and settling his bag on his lap.

“What type of tea you would like?” 

“Chamomile, please.”

“Name’s Carlos,” he said, setting the water to boil.

“Ian.”

Carlos paused in his work. “Are you new here? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Yes…I moved here three months ago from Madrid.”

“Work reasons?”

“Yes. I’m a history professor.”

“Really? That’s nice. Then this tea is on the house as a welcoming gift…you won’t regret moving here,” said Carlos, winking.

Ian smiled, his cheeks turning red. Carlos finished with his tea.

“Here you go. Careful, it’s hot,” he said, handing him the cup.

“Thanks.”

Their fingers brushed and Ian swore that an electric current had shot through his arm. The contact broke as Carlos removed his hand and the cup landed in Ian’s hand, burning his palm. He set it on the table before he dropped it. Carlos cleared his throat. Ian blew into his cup and drank, the sweet flavor coating his tongue, warming him. He wondered if what had just happened was his imagination but then he noticed that the man looked shaken as well.

The clerk crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, resting his weight on his arms. As he did so, a sweet light floral scent mixed with clear forest fragrance reached Ian. He inhaled; it soothed him.

“So, have you made any friends yet, Ian?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

Silence enveloped them and a nice awkwardness grew around them. Ian pretended to rest his hand close to Carlos’. His dark eyes rested with Carlo’s brown ones, the twin stars in them twinkled with the light.

“I wouldn’t mind showing you around. I grew up here and I know lots of places that might interest you…historical places I mean.”

His hand reached for Ian’s, who pulled his chair closer, while the earlier scent of flower and forest grew stronger. He shifted his hand underneath Carlos’, tracing circles on his wrist, feeling the fleeting pulse against his fingertips.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

The air around them grew warmer, including that wonderful floral smell—a smell that he would forever associate with Carlos’ unique perfume. The scent of lavender and pine needle.

***

Carlos! Ian gasped as his knees buckled under him and he collapsed on the sidewalk. His chest cramped with his rapid breathing. Shadows surrounded and shook him, their voices reaching his numb ears. His body shook. Finally, the scream escaped from his lips, leaving his throat raw. He broke down, the vault breaking apart and a flood of emotions drowning him. His scream shifted into a sob. Why did he have to die?

People gave him strange looks, but Ian paid no mind. Nothing mattered to him anymore. Eventually, someone pulled him to his feet and took him inside the shop as the faint smell of lavender and pine needle continued to haunt him. As he rested on a leather couch, a cup of lavender tea was thrust into his cold, numb fingers. Blinking, and coming back to reality, Ian glanced at the man. Diego, Carlos’ brother.

“Chamomile, your favorite,” he said.

“Thanks, Diego.”

The man nodded and went back to the front desk while Ian sipped the sweet liquid, warming him. He had no idea how long he sat there. He had lost track of the time until Diego began closing the shop for the night.

“Are you ready to head home?” asked Diego. 

“Not really, but I can’t keep running from the pain forever, right?”

“Yeah.”

Ian unlocked the door and switched on the lights in his apartment. Everything was in the same place, just as he had left it—from the untouched cup of tea to his open book resting on the kitchen table—before the dreaded call. It was as if time had frozen forever. Closing the door behind him, he rushed to the living room, heart drumming in his chest and hands clammy. Maybe it was just a dream…a long one. Waiting to see Carlos in his usual seat next to the lamp with a book resting on the armchair, Ian crossed into the living room and opened his eyes. Reality struck him hard. The book was still resting on the armchair but the seat remained empty. He swallowed past the knot in his throat and rushed to his room. Carlos was never coming back, no matter how much he wished for it!

Ian dropped in bed and hugged the pillow, his chest tightening. The faint scent of lavender and pine needle wafted past him. Shifting, he glanced at the photograph of their first anniversary together, Carlos’ frozen brown eyes lacking the brilliance that made him fall hard for Carlos. His eyes landed on the candle that lit the photograph next to it. The scent grew stronger and he inhaled, soothing his nerves. The hole in his chest healed and the pain lessened but didn’t disappear. It would take a while for him to get used to being on his own, but while he did so, he would have lavender and pine needle to remind himself that he was not alone and that he was real.