Rain Over Snow

Who knew scent could be such a powerful memory trigger?

My wife walked in the kitchen today wearing a scent called Vanilla Sunset. It took me all the way back to college. It took me all the way back. To her.

Freshman year. I was so excited to have finally moved out from my little hometown in Michigan all the way to Indianapolis. I was so ready for all the parties and college chicks. Turns out girls don't tend to go for the guys studying Aerospace Engineering. Honestly, looking back, I don't think I would've found the time for all that. I spent half the year with my nose stuck in a book. I don't think anyone ever got to see my full face without my glasses or textbook in the way. The only time I'd hear my name was for attendance. Nobody had any intention of talking to me. Nobody. Until her.

I was sitting by a fountain reading Lord of the Flies for the millionth time when I heard a voice as sweet as honey call me by my full name.

"Duncan Elliott."

What I looked up to see was the most captivating eyes smiling at me. Her textured hair was dancing in the wind as she waited for me to say something.

"-I'm sorry?"

She sat down beside me. She smelled like vacation.

"That's your name, right? I thought I'd find you here. I'm Elizabeth. We have class together."

I didn't believe her for a second. If I had ever seen someone with such beauty in my life, I would have undoubtedly remembered them for as long as I stood alive. It seemed as though we both knew she was lying, but neither of us cared. I knew by the sly grin on her face that she hadn’t even given me her real name. We talked by that fountain mindlessly for hours until the moon hung over us. However, neither of us wished for the night to end. We fell asleep in each other's arms in the back of her truck.

I had been so incredibly alone for so long, it felt unreal to be spending all that time with her.

We began to do everything together. I even dropped a few classes to be able to see her more often. I didn't care. Maybe it was her belly piercing, or maybe it was all my youthful days gone to waste in a library, but there was something telling me that I wasn't about to give her up so easily. Something about her felt so temporary, and I hated that.

It had been a few months of us running around together. So much had happened.

She made me see new colors. She made the sunlight feel warmer, even in December. She made anywhere feel like home. She helped me experience freedom like I had never felt it before. She'd introduce herself with a new name every time she'd see me. Though I'd spend so much time with her, she was still a mystery to me. I didn't know where she came from, why she talked to me that day, what she wanted, or who she was. Although, none of that mattered. It felt silly, but I thought I was falling in love with her.

A whole year had gone. I dropped out of college entirely, grew out my hair as the Beatles released the White Album, and she and I had started living in a motel together. I was working at a record store and she was becoming friends with a few groupies, so she'd come home pretty late at night.

I admit, those weren't the best of times, but during the little moments we found together, we were happy. Nothing had changed between us. I was starting to get interested in the hippie movement while she was charmed by the world of Rock. Nonetheless, we still had each other and we were in love.

I was planning on proposing to her. She really was the woman of my dreams. Nothing about her felt real. She was so ridiculously perfect, I wasn't planning on letting her slip away. I found the ring at a flea market and that's when I got the idea. I picked her some flowers on my way home and I was ready to pop the question. She'd come home at the darkest hours of the night, almost when the birds would start their morning song, so I decided to wait for her. I kept myself awake for hours. Thinking and thinking. Pacing around that two star motel bedroom, I got more and more excited with every tick of the clock.

By midnight, I knew I still had to wait. I turned on the TV.

By 2am, the neighbors complained about the loud volume. I had to wait in silence with my flowers in my right hand and the ring in my left.

By 4am, the anticipation was killing me. I knew she'd walk in any second.

By 6am, the sun had already started rising. I was thoroughly confused.

By 7am, I lost hope. I had to start getting ready for work. I couldn't help but wonder; what had happened to her?

That was the most dreadful shift of my life. I struggled to keep my eyes open but it didn’t take away from the fact that I had no one but her on my mind. I came home in a rush and she wasn't there. I waited another day, and then another.

Snow came, and over that came rain. And over the rain came snow, and over snow came rain.

Time was but an empty void with no meaning. I refused to believe she had left for good.

It had been 2 years. I didn't care. I still believed that she would return. She had to. I loved her.

Eventually, I went back to live with my folks. They really weren't happy with me, I'll tell you that! I'd go to sleep every night in my childhood bed hoping to wake up to see her one last time. As much as I denied it, I was starting to accept the fact that she was really gone.

I have to admit, living with my parents in my mid 20s wasn't fun. They made me get a haircut and go to church with them when everyone my age was either starting a family or was getting high. I was doing neither. My mother ended up introducing me to a girl from church, Eleanor. I liked her name, because it was one of the many names of the girl I loved.

Eleanor was nice, friendly, well-behaved and I guess she was pretty. She really liked disco, which I never understood. She felt like the safe answer, the one that wouldn't hurt. We got married in August of 1976. Not too long after, we had two sons, each respectively three years apart. 

I ended up working for my dad at his appliance store. Eleanor had rich parents, so she was fortunate enough to be able to open her own bakery. She's a really great baker. The boys were never much of the jock type. Makes sense seeing as I’m their old man. My oldest son grew up determined to be a marine biologist, and the other one has the grades to become a doctor. I can't say I'm not happy with how things turned out.

However, at times, when I get a little moment to myself, it feels like she never left. Sometimes I can still hear her laugh. She made me feel so complete, but she left me with an abundance of questions.

How could she do that to a man? How did she give herself that kind of power?

She broke down every part of me and built it up into whatever she desired. She held a man's heart in her bare hands and played with it as she pleased. Then when she had her fun, she watched it crumble to the ground as she walked away, unbothered.

She just walked out one morning and never returned. No note. No last goodbye. What was I thinking? She was too good to be true. I compromised every part of me to a woman I never knew the name of. There's not a name she didn't have. Mary, Joan, Betty, Stevie, Hannah, Laura, Valerie, Juliana, Kasandra, Sarah, Lily. She even called herself Kevin at one point.

I think she did it just to spite me. I think she knew she would leave me from the day she met me. She knew the punchline to the joke I hadn't heard before. And now with her gone, she still gets to torment me, because her names are everywhere. I won't ever escape her. She is impossible to forget.

I don't know why I still think about her to this day. Is it because my sons are off to college and it's a whirlwind of nostalgia? Is it because she was my first love?

All my thoughts revolve around her. I have a hard time letting go of my time spent by her side. She was like a dream to me. So mesmerizing in her own way. All of this just leads me to wonder;

Was she ever even real?