“How long have you worked with perfume?” Eden asked.
“As a kid, I read Patrick Susskind’s book, The Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. Have you heard of it?”
Eden nodded. “Yes. It’s about a guy that starts killing for a perfect scent.”
“Yes. In the book, he explored the dangerous power of scents.” Penelope brought out a few flasks and placed them near us. “It was all about how different fragrances can create love or hatred, disgust or irresistible attraction.”
“So, in some ways our sense of smell is subconscious?” I asked.
“You’re a deep thinker, Mr. Laurent. Yes. It is subconscious too.” She glanced at me and then Eden. “Sometimes we fall in love with someone more because of their scent than anything else.”
Is that how I became obsessed with you, Eden? Your scent?
As Penelope gathered items and began to explain the process we would undergo, I wondered if I had caught Eden’s scent in that apartment and if that was the reason I had become obsessed all along. Perhaps, her skin’s fragrance was completely perfect for me. My mind. My body. Even my soul.
Take that, Celina. It’s not just because I’m a crazy creep. Eden smells so good.
Penelope and Eden went back and forth, talking more about fragrances. I enjoyed watching Eden. She smiled, and it lightened my heart.
This moment had given her some peace from the pain of death. When one mourned, rest and escape ranked higher than food. When one mourned, it felt like they were dying too.
I’ve got to make sure she’s comfortable this week. Leo’s death is going to be hard for her to get through, especially after losing her mother to cancer.
“In French, the slang expression ‘I can’t smell him/her’ is used to express when one can’t stand someone.” Penelope brought over a bowl of herbs, sniffed them, and set the bowl by Eden. “So, think about that. Even for the French, language mingles with the social role of scent.”
Eden studied the bowl. “I didn’t know that was a phrase. This is fascinating.”
“This job brings some crazy things,” Penelope continued. “Last month, I held a Smell Dating event. A woman’s book club had put it together. It was the first time I had heard of it.”
“What’s Smell Dating?”
“It’s just like Speed Dating. A single woman sits for a certain amount of time with a single man. The time ends, and the woman talks to another man, and the earlier man talks to another woman. But with this Smell Dating event, everyone was blindfolded. The men and women made their decisions off the touch of their hands and the smell of the other. And of course, the sound of their voices.”
“Do you think anyone found love?”
“I’m sure they did. The nose never lies and neither does the ears. Yet, a fragrance has more power of persuasion than words or appearance.” She reached her hands out to Eden. “Okay. This is the part where I smell you.”
I arched my eyebrows. Clearly, my daydreaming had made me miss Penelope’s explanation of the process.
She sniffed Eden’s wrists, walked over to her, and smelled behind both ears. “Yes, Eden. I can think of a few fragrances that will raise your lovely natural fragrance. You have a natural aphrodisiac power happening.”
Penelope hurried off to a shelf, returned, and placed several vials in front of Eden. “These should be perfect for you.”
“Thank you.” Eden took her time, smelling each one. “Wow. I love these.”
“And now you.” The woman walked over to me and did the same thing that she’d done with Eden. “Yes. You both have similarities, but clear differences too. You smell compatible.”
I quirked my eyebrows. “Are you that good?”
“I’ve been told.” Penelope placed a tray in front of me. “I picked my late husband due to his scent. We were married for thirty happy years. I lost him a year ago.”
Eden paused from the vials and looked at her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“If it’s okay to say this. . .” Penelope held her hand to her heart. “Eden, you smell like you’re sad. In love, but also sad. Did you lose someone recently?”
Eden’s eyes widened. “You can smell that?”
“Sometimes. No one ever believes me, when I say it, but this is my truth.”
Eden’s voice cracked. “Yes. I did lose two people.”
“Then, no to the champagne.” Penelope shook her head. “This very special and private event calls for whiskey.”
“I concur.” I toyed with the vials on my tray. It was hard to not be a kid with Eden. We always did fun things. Stuff that I would never think to do with Rafael and Louis. We weren’t the type of men to go make perfumes together.
A man needed a woman to explore life with.
“A fine perfume can have hundreds of ingredients.” Penelope brought small wooden boxes over. Some had flowers. Herbs. One had cinnamon sticks. “What you should remember is that simple is always best. While you can create perfumes with combinations of essential oils, sometimes the best scent is a delicate water-based perfume with a floral scent. It’s deliciously direct. Hits the nostrils and shoots right to the brain.”