The Sewer

The smell of lilac wafted through the air as their hands touched, fingers intertwined as they walked hand in hand across campus. Looking down he saw her diminutive figure and her long blonde hair flowing down across her shoulders that were sunkissed from the time at the lake. 

She smiled up at him, he was much taller and bigger in every way than she was, and the touch of his strong hand made her feel even smaller and that was OK when she was with him. She smelled him as he was so close and he smelled like a man, not a bad smell that repelled her but one that drew her even closer. It was the smell of a mix of citrus, spicy clove, and creamy woods and it clung to her even when they were apart. Sometimes as she woke up she still could take in that smell as she wrapped her arms around herself and thought of him.

Today as they walked and glanced lovingly at each other he bent down to smell her and take her in deeply. Then he breathed out and smiled hugely as he said softly to her, “You smell like a sewer.”

She immediately withdrew her hand from his and frowned. She stepped back and scowled up at him. Then, without a word, she turned and walked away. 

He didn’t have a clue what offended her. After just a moment of watching her heading in the opposite direction from him, he hurried to catch up with her. As she continued to walk quickly he walked beside her and then asked, “What’s up? I thought we were having a good afternoon. I know I was. What’s wrong?”

His words irritated her delicate ears. How could he be this clueless? How could he tell me that I smelled like a sewer? Who did he think he was to treat me this way?

She finally stopped and turned towards him and grabbed his beard and yanked at it over and over and over. He was surprised and pained by the tugs on it and she didn’t stop. But then finally he grabbed her little soft hands and pushed them away from him.

“Why are you so mad at me? What did I do that was wrong? I didn’t forget our six-month anniversary today. I thought you liked the necklace of the sailboat that I gave you to remind you of how we met by the lake that day and both were watching the sailboat go by. Just tell me. What have I done? You’re small but you yanked out some hair from my beard and that hurt. What is wrong with you?”

She reached toward his big face again but didn’t pull at his beard. Instead, she slapped him. Hard. His mouth flew open and he just stared at her. There was no anger in him but just a wondering look about why she struck him.

Finally, she stood her ground, looked up into his face from directly below him, and said, “You told me that I smell like a sewer! That was a nasty thing to tell your girlfriend. I showered today. You are the one that may need to shower more often, even though I really don’t mind. But a sewer? You think I smell like a sewer?”

He took it in. Waited. And then got a sheepish grin on his face. “Oh, when you put it that way I guess I should explain. But really, I meant it as a compliment.”

She immediately turned and stomped in the opposite direction again as he rushed to keep up with her. She was a slight girl but when she got moving she could keep up quite a pace. Finally, he put his big hand on her shoulder and said, “Please, stop. Let me explain.”

She walked forward a moment and then turned and faced him, crossing her arms across her chest. Looking up at him she said, “OK buster, you’ve got three minutes to explain yourself. I guess I owe you that much. Go ahead. Make this one go away.”

He paced briefly, walked back to her, then led her to a nearby bench where she sat down. As she sat she couldn’t help but smell him as he was so close. She loved how he smelled. She took it all in. She took him in. How could he think that she smelled like a sewer? And how could he tell her that and not think she would get mad?

He knelt in front of her on the grass as she sat on the bench. He wanted to touch her soft hands. To take them into his and kiss them. But he knew that wasn’t a good idea right now. He hoped that later he might.

He looked at her and said, “You have never been to my home yet though I hope to take you there when we can get away. I’d love for you to meet my Mom and see where I grew up. I suppose it isn’t much to look at from your perspective. You grew up in a big house in a city and everything looked great and the lawn was neatly mowed. And that’s a good thing. It must have been very nice for you.

But where I grew up was quite different. It was in a little village where a lot of people had small houses. Lots of my friends lived in those but I didn’t. I lived on the edge of the village in a trailer. It wasn’t much but it was ours. Mom always made sure the inside was clean and neat and we had everything we needed. I mowed the grass, complaining about it sometimes especially when I was nine or ten and wanted to be playing baseball with my friends. But as I grew through my teen years I didn’t really mind cutting the grass. I liked the smell of it. The newly cut grass had a certain smell that was different than before. I liked it. I didn’t know it at the time but that smell was the smell of home, of love.

When I smelled it I just knew that whatever happened, I was OK because my Mom was looking after me and God had our back. The smell was pure heaven to me.

For the longest time, I thought the smell was just the grass when I had cut it. Then at some point, I realized that out front between our front yard and the road, where there was no sidewalk because there weren’t any in our neighborhood, there was a little ditch. When it rained water ran through it and because of that sometimes it would smell, like a sewer. But believe it or not, it wasn’t a bad smell because there were lilacs growing there along that ditch. They smelled so good.

So when I would be out mowing I would smell those lilacs in that sewer of a ditch and the flowers invigorated me. They showed me that there could be beauty, in this case, a beautiful smell, even in a drainage ditch. I loved that smell.

So today when I said you smelled like a sewer I know I should have chosen my words better but I actually meant it as a compliment. Your perfume. Your lilac smell. I love it. I love the way you smell. Being with you, smelling you, is like being home to me. The best place. The place of love.”

She leaned over and put her arms around his big neck and hugged him tightly and laughed, “Well, when you put it that way. I guess it’s a good thing to smell like a sewer.”