Lilac
By R. K. Scott // October 13, 2023
She grasped the crystal doorknob and turned it to the left, punching the door out of its frame–a door that didn't quite fit due to decades of layers of paint, each one the same shade of glossy white. She remembered when one of these layers was being painted by already worn out hands, back when she was a foot shorter than she is today, touching the paint before it was dry and feeling the sticky resin as she wiped it off on her rose colored dress. She walked into the room looking from left to right, first noticing the window above the bed on the far end of the wall. The screen was opened just enough to let the salty sea air come in but not enough to let the sharp smell of fabric softener sheets escape. Underneath the window stood the bed; a bed no one really needed anymore, but one that had a quilt with all shades of purple flowers creeping on vines from the foot to the pillows. The pillows were fluffed and the lace embellishments ironed to a crisp edge while the top of the quilt was folded over as if it had been made just that morning as part of a daily routine. She saw the small stain of tulip pink nail polish that spilled on the lace a month earlier, just as she had completed a makeshift manicure for the woman who always stocked the freezer with ice cream bars in anticipation of their monthly visits. On the right side of the room was the all-familiar dresser, the one painted a cream color with tiny pink rose buds at the middle of each drawer just above the antique brass handles. The same dresser that would end up housing the clothes belonging to another, although without the mirror attached to the top–that mirror belonged right here, the reflections of this life.
Walking slowly now through the room, she faced the door on the far right and opened it ever so gently. This room offered the fragrance of every type of popular perfume from one decade to the next, dating back to a time when life was not yet a settled routine. She opened the upper-left hand side drawer just below the sink and found the round purple soap where she had hastily put it during her last visit, still partially encased in its plastic wrapper with a floral sticker attached at the middle, a token gift given just too late. She lifted it to her nose and took in a slow but deep breath, the scent of lilac hitting her senses in full force.
***
She was in the back living room now. There was a fresh pot of tea with one hand pouring a small portion into each porcelain cup and another placing a shortbread cookie on a saucer decorated with pale yellow flowers. It had a small chip at the gold painted edge that everyone saw, but nobody noticed. In this room, the scent of English Breakfast and sugar cubes dominated and the sound of a wind chime came through the open window that led down to the back garden and eventually all the way to the sea. A deck of cards sat on a folding table in the middle of the room, ready to be shuffled for one more round of Go Fish, a game the smallest person in the room always seemed to win, leading to the smiles of both the naive and all-knowing every single time.
***
She suddenly felt dizzy and dropped the lilac soap, cracking it slightly on the side of the drawer. She felt intense and instant regret for ruining something that belonged to a person who had offered so much love. But of course, this gift was not needed anymore and the love in giving it was already felt. She steadied her breath and placed the soap gently back in the drawer for the last time so it could rest and then said goodbye, in life but not in memory.
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Originally from California, R. K. Scott came to the Triangle area in 2017 to explore the large amounts of green walking trails and vibrant arts scene. She is an artist and former art teacher residing in Durham, NC.