A Nose For Trouble
by
Zerelda X
X-Men belong to Marvel. Anna and her family belong to me. No profit, no harm.
Dad always said I had the best nose in the family.
At the time it hurt. My nose was kind of large back then when I was 10. Grandma said I just needed time to grow into it. Be proud, she'd tell me. That's your great-grandmother's nose. You'll never go wrong with it.
Too bad it always got me into trouble.
Helped me find Trouble so often Dad said it was my middle name. "You just can't leave things alone," he'd tell me, shaking his head in despair. That, or the ever familiar "damn, damn, damn" when words failed him entirely. Like when I tracked that skunk back home to her babies. So, it doesn't sound impressive unless you know I did it 2 weeks after the darned skunk had been through there. The babies were cute. Dad and Mom were not amused.
He was happy when I found where Mom hid his tobacco. Thought I was wonderful then. I don't know why he couldn't understand the stray dogs and cats I kept bringing home. "But he/she/it smells so scared," I'd wail as he dialed the local pound and tell them "Annie's brought home another one, can you come get it?"
I liked having a good nose after a while. The things you can find with it. The last candy bar someone forgot, where Mom hid the Christmas presents, even where Jimmy was on his date and who he was with, (that kept me in peppermints for a whole month, just so I wouldn't tell Bubba that Jimmy was out with his girlfriend.)
Told me who was eating paste at school, just like it told me not to eat it. Who was kissing who behind the school fence. Playing Blindman's Tag didn't make me too popular, though. Take the good with the bad, Grandma kept telling me.
It got me the dream job of my life as a librarian. I love the way old books smell. I used to play a game with myself and try and guess the age of the book by the scent. Wasn't much good at it, but it was fun. Libraries smell better than any garden, though I like those too. Just not as much.
People are a real treat when you've got a nose like mine. You learn just who you can trust and who you can't.
Like my friend.
I don't know his name. Every Tuesday evening, like clockwork, he visits me.
Today is Tuesday.
I'll hear footsteps first. Lots of footsteps around here, but I've learned to tell his apart from the rest. Aside from the fact that it is Tuesday, and I always have turkey soup on Tuesday, his steps are measured, firm, purposeful. He knows why he's here. So many people wander through hesitantly, not him. He's coming to see me and he knows right where I am.
Doesn't hurt that I'm always here at this time of day.
Then he stops in the doorway. That's when I smell him. A faint combination of soap and sweat and weather, very pleasant, really. Like nothing else around here. Even when he changes soap I can still tell, because his basic scent is always the same. Woodsy, even a bit salty. A sharp bit of ozone.
He comes in and sits for an hour or so. Sometimes he just talks, sometimes he reads. I really have to concentrate to hear the words, his voice is quiet and thoughtful. I think he'd have a nice laugh if he ever used it. But, then again, laughing isn't something you hear around here often. Might scare everyone.
Sometimes he smells sad, like he's been crying on the way over. He did that once here, sat there in the chair and cried quietly. You couldn't hear the tears running down his cheeks, but my nose told me they were there. I wanted to comfort him, but he didn't smell like the kind of man who would welcome someone seeing him in a weak moment. So I pretended not to notice. After a while he stopped. I don't want to know anyone is hurting on the inside. There enough hurting on the outside as it is.
Crying is a natural thing, I don't know why anyone would be ashamed to be caught doing it. If you don't let it out, it'll explode one of these days.
I also don't want him to stop coming here. Maybe that sounds selfish, but he gives me something to look forward to every week. Very little else happens here on its own.
I like that he brings the outside to me. Such interesting scents come in with him. In the fall it's woodsmoke and dried leaves; in winter it's snow and that crisp snappy scent in the air. In the spring it's the wind and rain. Summer is my favorite. The sun, grass, even the bleach-y smell from a pool, bonfires with marshmallows and hotdogs. At Christmas it was pine and mint.
He brings people scents, too. One I recognize, 'cause it's always a part of him. I figure it must be his wife. She wears an exotic perfume, a very nice one. If I could wear one it would be something like that. I don't wear perfume, it interferes with the nose. The things we sacrifice.....
I never smell any animals on him, so I don't think he's got a pet. Once, he did have a smell of some sort of animal, but it wasn't anything I ever recognized. I thought maybe he'd gone to the zoo and got hurt, I could smell a little blood, too.
He did bring a friend with him one time. At least I think he did. He was sitting in his usual spot reading and I detected someone else inside the doorway. Another unique smell. This one had overtones of cigarette smoke and beer and exotic spices, but something underneath it. Almost like a hot humid day in a cypress grove would smell, which has to be silly. There are no cypress trees around here. I'll figure it out one of these days, I've got nothing but time.
The scent has been back a time or two, never any further inside the doorway then that first time. Nothing scary or threatening. I tend to ignore it until it happens. I try to remind myself to ask the stranger who he is, but I always forget. I've been here so long I forget what day it is. Unless it's Tuesday.
Anyway, the turning point in my nose's career was when I was downtown one afternoon. I didn't want to go there, the congestion really makes me ill, but I had to pick up a special delivery for the library. No one else would do it, and being lowman on the totem pole, well, you know what that means. So I down I went.
And landed myself smack dab in a fight.
Not my fight. With my nose I can avoid trouble, (except when you're looking for it, I hear Dad's voice say) but it was not my day.
It was one of those mutant fights you see on TV, except this was up close and personal, a little too personal. Found myself in between two groups of combatants. Without a program, I couldn't tell who were the good guys and the bad guys. I just assumed they were all bad and ran. Took cover in an alley behind a dumpster, let my nose lead the way.
Which turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
I'm hiding from the fight on the street and I get hit with debris from a blast to the building. Right on the head. Knocked me out. Can't tell you what happened next, cause neither me nor my nose was conscious at the time.
Next thing I know, I'm in a bed in a hospital. Everyone knows what hospitals smell like. I don't know how something that smells so clean can smell like death at the same time. I hated it.
That's where my friend first came to see me. I guess he didn't like what he saw because he didn't come back there. It was okay, I didn't know him then.
After I got a little better I was moved to another place. This one is much nicer, smells a lot better. I've got my own room with a window. I love it when the window is opened, I can smell the woods around this place.
I have a sneaking suspicion my friend had something to do with me being moved there. He started visiting me right after that. Even Mom and Dad don't visit as often as he does. I understand. They're getting older. It's got to hurt them to see me like this.
It's Tuesday today, like I mentioned. The attendant will be in soon to help me bathe and dress. She's very nice and gentle. I'd like to tell her how much I appreciate her consideration, and the smells of gingerbread, cocoa and children that cling to her.
I'd like to say a lot of things, but I can't. Can't talk, can't see, can't move by myself. I try, but I can't.
I can still hear and smell. It's enough to give me the outside world. One of these days I'll do everything else.
I can hear his footsteps outside my door. He's not alone today. I can smell the perfume. His wife. I've wondered about her. She smells very nice. Nice is a scent. The old saying - if they could bottle this one, they'd make a fortune.....from all the not-nice people in the world.
He sits down in the chair next to the bed. Hi, Anna, he says to me, I've brought one of your favorites, your mother said you always loved it as a child. 'Gone with the Wind.' I've brought a guest with me today, my wife, Jean. She's been wanting to meet you.
Oh, how wonderful. A book and a guest with a name. So many people will just start talking to me and never tell me their names. One of these days someone will call him by name, then I'll know what to call him. Until then I'll just keep calling him my friend.
'Gone with the Wind' has always been one of my favorites. I don't know how he'll do on the female parts, but his voice is soothing and I like to listen to him read to me.
Hello, Anna. I'll just sit over here by the window while you two visit.
Her voice is soft, very sweet. She smells a bit sad, too. Not because of me, I hope. Never because of me. I'm not sad. I'm too busy here to be sad. Fall is coming. Me and my nose are ready.
~*~*~*~*~
Outside the exclusive extended care facility Jean Summers wrapped her arms around her husband. "You were right," she told him. "Her mind is very active. One of these days she just might wake up from her 'sleep.' She likes your visits."
Scott Summers took a deep breath. "It's the least I can do for her," he said, his words muffled in her hair.
"It's not your fault. You didn't know know she was hiding in the alley. It could've happened to anyone." This was old territory for them both.
"I know, but it was me who blasted that building and did that to her."
"When the day comes and she wakes up, she's going to owe it to you. She's getting the best care money can buy, and you visit every week. This twilight sleep will be gone and she'll still be able to have a life because you cared." She kissed him. "You're doing a good thing here, don't let your guilt spoil it."
His smile acknowledged she was right, as usual. "I have to keep coming back. Do you know how long it'll take me to read that book to her? Forever. I can't wait to see how it all turns out."
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