Lola and the smell of summer

The open window welcomed the premature scent of summer. However misplaced the smell was, he recognized it right away. It was the only thing that smelled of so many memories yet consisted of one recognizable aroma. Charles, as pleased as he was, was thrown off guard. The fragrance lingered far too long than it should have in a city of that size. He casually sipped his coffee and stared out the window, reminiscing. The momentary odor had intoxicated him with memories of his childhood. He didn’t grow up in the country, nor was it quite a city. He settled to call it a small town. “Good morning, Charlie.”

Lola and Charles had been living in their apartment together for three months. The place was bare save for a couch, a few scattered, unopened boxes and a bed. Near the window, they used an overturned box as a table and sat on pillows. This lack of furniture was only temporary. Charles was head of his department and as soon as his bonus check arrived, they would invest in a table. However, Charlie (as he was more intimately known) didn’t quite feel like working today.

“Lola, what say we take a drive today?” Charlie sipped his coffee again, his gaze fixed on something out the window.

“What about work? I still have to call a repair man to fix the stove.” Lola said this with genuine concern. She was a genuine person. That was why he loved her.

“Work can wait, it can all wait. It’s a beautiful spring day, and it smells of summer.”

“Smells of summer?” She tilted her head slightly.

“Did you not smell that? Just a moment ago…well never mind it. Grab a light sweater, there might be a breeze.” Charlie was fixed on taking Lola to the country. He knew she would love it. He grabbed his keys and Lola found her sweater, his coffee sitting on the box, forgotten in an instant.

It took them no time to get out of the city. The traffic had cleared up, as everyone arrived at their jobs. Charlie did not envy the working men. He was driving, he had no obligations, and Lola was by his side. She stared out the window and every once in a while he would glance at her and smile. With every glance he appreciated her more. The staring and glancing continued until they arrived at their destination.

One cannot actually “arrive” at the country. It fades from city, to highway, to small town roads to fields and farmland. Those fields were Charlie’s cue to shut off the car. He opened the door and stepped out. He looked around and inhaled. It smelled of summer. Just then he remembered Lola. How could he forget her? He rushed to her side of the car and opened her door. Helping her out of the car, he couldn’t help but ask “do you smell that? Do you smell summer?” She inhaled as he had, then smiled. Lola understood, she always understood. That was why he loved her. They linked arms and walked down the road, all the while in silence, appreciating the peace, the essence, and each other.

The smell became strong and with it came the fleeting memories. Wet bathing suits, bare feet, lemonade, and the grade school taunting between the sexes. He remembered childhood. Upon all of his remembering, he realized how contrasting life was then compared to now. In his youth, you didn’t have to wear shoes. Life was simple like that. Life in the city is more complex and costly. Women wear hundred dollar heels that are so tall, you would think that stilts are a status symbol. Charlie liked simplicity, it was underrated. What he had now was not so simple. As he compared the past and present, he wondered what he would make of his life in the future. After all, he was only thirty and retirement and death were not in his immediate plans.

Lola and Charlie stopped walking near a small, green hill covered in daisies.

“May we sit?” Lola had such a pleasant voice. One of the many reasons he loved her was her voice. She was so beautiful; long brown hair that waved in all of the right places, and green eyes that seemed to show every emotion all at once. He looked at her, gave his signature smile, walked to the top of the hill and sat at the top. Lola looked around herself and picked a flower, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger. Charlie watched her and wondered about their future together as she made a chain of flowers. He realized then how well she fit in the country. Yes, she fit there, and he fit with her, he must fit there too.

“Do you suppose we can live here?” Lola asked after a long silence. “You know, once we are married?” Charlie, who never broke his stare replied, “I would like that,” loving her more than ever.

“Good,” She said in a tone of finality. “I like it here. It smells of summer.”