A Scent of What Could Have Been

Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you. Coldplay bounced around in my head while I ran past generic yards of cookie cutter shaped houses. Nimbus clouds opened up, exposing a blinding sunset that cast a peach glow on the wilted grassland. I jogged towards my apartment complex with force. I am in it for the long run, I told myself, as I huffed up the steps to my apartment. I resisted the urge to sink into my down-filled sofa, and went straight to the shower. The hot water soothed my aching calves, and the steam muddled my mind with wistful thoughts.

Cliff Langston, slender build, dark brown hair and blue eyes. I flicked his wet hair from his face as he gently tugged on my ponytail. Get your head out of the gutter Ava. It had been several months since I last saw him. The blue of his eyes was an azure blue like the calm seas. Oh how the shades of blue can reveal so much and so little.

We met six years ago at Seattle University, in Visual Design class. I was presenting my project on the emotional effect of lines, "The horizontal line has a calming effect like the sun setting on the horizon..." Cliff raised his hand, and after a few inquisitive exchanges, my cheeks were flushed and I whipped through the remainder of my slides. After class, he approached me and apologized for embarrassing me. From that day on we met for coffees, went out for beers, and studied together, clothes on or clothes off. I kept his green Seattle-U hoodie. The scent of his Ralph Lauren Polo Red cologne lingered on it, woody and citrusy with a touch of sweat. We never established ourselves as a couple, he avoided the subject altogether. He had a good argument for it too.

"I would never want to hold you back from going to another state and getting your dream job."

After graduation he was off, while I stayed in Seattle. I stayed on the horizontal line as he slid up the diagonal. I found a job as a photo assistant at Ryerson Studios. Mitch Ryerson was a world renowned photographer, known for his stunning portraits of activists and tycoons. I was lucky to receive his mentorship.

Mitch told me once that, "In order to emphasize the subject in the photograph, we need the perfect balance of high and low activity." This resonated with me. My life could not come into focus without the highs and the lows, both were essential.

Cliff and I still kept in touch. He landed a job as an industrial designer at IDEO. He had to travel frequently across the country to design centers, manufacturing sites, and testing facilities. We would meet whenever he was back in Seattle. I admired his drive and ambition.

My brother Noah was visiting me today. My thoughts of Cliff dissipated, as Noah knocked on the door. I let him in.

"Why the long face sis."

"'Cause I had to share that tight space in Mom's belly with you."

"Oh snap. You know what I meant. Every time I walk into your apartment, moody music is blaring from your face."

Noah went straight to my fridge and looked inside. I didn't have much in there, just orange juice and half a dozen cinnamon raisin muffins.

"So we're having breakfast tonight? You need to restock your fridge. No wonder you look so down, you need protein and greens."

"I ordered pizza."

Noah sauntered to the sofa and started flipping through Netflix. Scraggly hairs lined his uneven beard.

"What are we watching today?" I asked. We had made it a ritual to get together once a month to binge watch Netflix shows. We lost touch for a while after I graduated with my Bachelor of Arts degree in Photography, and started working for Mitch. I consumed myself with work after Cliff left.