Exorcising Ghosts

"It was the same routine every single night. Or at least for the last 78 nights. Drink warm milk with a teaspoon of sugar. Brush my teeth. Make sure the curtains are closed all the way to the very end (no gaps, thank you!). Moisturise. My pillow fluffed just the right amount. Set a redundant alarm for 6 am. Close my eyes. Go to sleep.

All for what? I open my eyes to see it is 3:13 am, every single night!

Every night at that moment, all I hear is silence. The silence is so loud, I barely hear my pounding heart. An eerie feeling creeps over me as I see through the (now open) curtains, the ice glazes over the windows from the sudden cold. A smell wafts through. One that is so familiar. I know what it is, I have definitely smelt it before, yet I cannot name it. All these days, I have never been able to remember it. I have tried day after day, night after night, still zilch. What now....?"

                                       

I close my eyes to remember, but it eludes me. The mist that clouds my senses, takes me back in time to try to fathom that elusive scent. I need to control the obsessive compulsions that have overtaken me. Focus. Focus.

In the haze of sleep, the haunting vapours lend a cloudy, wispy, eerie aura to the scene. In a daze, I remember now what that aroma is. It’s not the fragrance of romance or the dusky flavour of freshly brewed, fondly remembered coffee. It was the smell of betrayal and dishonesty. So startling in its appearance that the shock of it was unfathomable.

The choices that we make on impulse, throws us into classrooms that have neither teachers nor exams to evaluate the student. 

The transition from innocent childhood to a life of broken promises was manipulation at its best, happening over two decades, so smooth that it took me by surprise!

Unknowingly, my fatal fascination for narcissism started on the merry-go-round. The music of the merry-go-round was alluring, haunting and definitely clouded my perception. The speed and exhilarating ups and downs were thrilling for a young girl, felt like my very own fairy tale.

I squashed the pillow over my head not wanting to remember.

The mental torture seemed normal, brushed off as an adjustment to family. Questioning self-worth was belittling. From a happy young adult to low self-esteem was but a breeze!

The early morning startled waking up was chronicled by the therapist as a subconscious fear. I smiled at my folly. Looking back in wonder at what I had become was a wake-up call.

A flashback again?

Monotony had set in. Myriad excuses, flattery, honest lies are spoken with a straight face, meaningless relationships floating in the triangle that had become marriage.

I fluffed the pillow into another shape.

Heart still pounding…where was my Vicks? I need a sniff to breathe.

Why does it haunt me so? Why does the scent of betrayal haunt you in spite of letting go and endless searches in the depths of my soul?

It can’t be the tea I had drank; it can’t be the pizza with extra cheese that I ate. Nor can it be the unconcerned snores that filled the room, as I crouched under the blankets fearing the consequences.

I breathe deeply.

I don't want to remember. I have shelved it in the farthest corners of my mind. A child also facing the same badgering…one a childhood trauma and an adult caught in a quagmire. Twin souls figuring out the odds in life.

But we accepted the inevitable, taking our lives forward. Swimming against the tide, we learned how strong the currents were, how the river meandered into unchartered territory, circumvented obstacles, overrode some, but ploughed on regardless.

Delving deep into our souls to find answers, and reaching a state of happiness each by ourselves!

Then why the pounding heart at 3 am for 78 days? Is it to see if I’ll go back, or is it a restless syndrome that still questions? The smell of faded perfume on his shirt lingers. Day after day. Was it Channel? Or Jasmine? The songs that we enjoyed now had a different connotation. Everything did. Everything shoved under the carpet. Not magical like Aladdin’s carpet.

 

But now the river has changed its course.

No, I don't need answers anymore.

The smell that wafted through my senses no longer exists. It’s just a remnant of a bygone lifetime. Only freshly brewed coffee and toast fill the air as I raid the kitchen to assuage the hunger in my belly!

I open the curtains and get back into bed. Luckily I just needed a coffee and toast.

No more searching for forgotten fragrances from other lifetimes.

I am here and in the now.