The Do-Over(26)

“So?” I asked, when I walked out of the room.

“So…I hope he’s really not married or you’re going to be a homewrecker. That dress looks amazing and if he doesn’t remember you, I know it’s going to jog a long buried memory.”

A few minutes later I emerged with the dress back on its hanger. “Do I get fed now?” I asked.

“Not yet, I was thinking about something.”

“Uh-oh, that worries me.”

Standing by the register as I paid, “No. Just hear me out. Our senses play a huge role in creating and recalling memory, right?”

“Yes.” I swiped my credit card.

“You can hear a song and within the first few notes, you’re totally transported back in time to that place where you were listening to it. And it’s everything, the visual image, the smell, the temperature. So, we’re hitting his brain with a very specific color. Do you remember what perfume you wore back then?” We walked toward the elevator.

“Salt Air & Sweat,” I joked.

“Were you wearing the scent Ollie was obsessed with?”

“Oh my God,” I laughed, grasping Laynie’s forearm. “I hope not.”

Ollie was Laynie’s prized long-haired dachshund. Like most pets in loving homes, Ollie had no clue he was a dog. He was a little man with a big attitude. A lifelong dog lover, at first I could not understand why this dog ignored me. Ollie would literally dis me every time I walked into Laynie’s apartment, until Trésor. For years, I had been wearing Estée Lauder’s White Linen perfume and on a trip to the cosmetics counter for a new bottle, a very persuasive sales woman convinced me to also buy Trésor. What was in the perfume that turned Ollie on, I’ll never know, but from the first time I walked in wearing it, he would jump up into my lap and stick his long snout into the nape of my neck, sniffing and licking it. He could go for hours. And not in a good way.

“I seriously don’t remember wearing any perfume that trip. It was pretty grubby. Hawaiian Tropic was probably my fragrance du jour.”

Exiting the elevator on the very crowded main floor, Laynie directed me. “This way. Let’s get you a rollerball perfume that screams beach and summer. You are going to assault his senses until his memory becomes his reality.”

“My nose is useless. I can’t smell anymore,” I declared, after the fourth or fifth perfume. My nose was stuffing up. Talk about assaulting the senses.

Laynie continued on her quest, stalking the rack like a cougar on a mission. Reaching out she swiped the next bottle from the display, then the next one.

“Oh too bad, I liked the name and packaging on this one.” I held up a bottle of Beach Walk. “There’s just something strong and overwhelming in the fragrance that I don’t like.”

We continued spraying little cards and parts of our arms until Laynie said, “Did you smell this one?”

Handing me the bottle, I sprayed the inside of my wrist and waved it in the air until it was dry before bringing it to my nose. Inhaling the clean scent, I immediately looked at Laynie, my smile giving here the answer.

“It’s perfect. It’s light and citrusy and it just sings beach on a sunny day.” I brought the rollerball up to my nose for another waft. “Perfect.”

“Buy it and let’s go eat.”



Chris held a prep/rehearsal meeting prior to the C-Kicker team’s arrival the following Friday morning. Jonathan and I were set-up to play the videos on the projection wall and review general campaign concepts. We’d done several mock-ups that featured different storylines and if given the go ahead, we’d go into full production with Jamie. Joining me, Chris, Jonathan, and Jamie in the meeting were Chris’ admin, Donna and account executive, Kim Decker, who would handle day-to-day on the account, if we landed it.

“Did we get a roster of attendees from C-Kicker?” I asked Donna. “We haven’t thrown their names and info into the presentation yet.”

“No, and I asked for it a few times. I have some info, but not a formal list. I know it’s going to be the CEO, Wes, VP of Operations, Julien and a Director of Public Outreach named Renata.” She rifled through her notes.

Taking down the info, I typed it into the presentation. Do we have last names on Julien and Renata?”

Shaking her head, “No, sorry and Camilla, Wes’ assistant said something about a marketing person with a scheduling conflict, but that Wes had told her to change it. I’m really sorry, I don’t have the info.”

Donna was so competent I worried that C-Kicker might prove to be a difficult partner.

Getting up to go back to my office Chris remarked, “That is a great color on you.”

Back in my space, I closed the door and took a deep breath. Why was I so nervous? So what if I were going to see a guy I knew for a very short period of time a long time ago. Chances were he would have no memory of me or our night talking until dawn. Breathe deeply, I told myself. If you were seeing an old friend from high school, you’d be psyched and not nervous.

But it was Wes. Wes who spent his life one degree of separation from me.

I felt as if I were to reach out my hand and he extended his, our fingertips would be mere inches apart and that is how they had been for our entire lives. We were so close yet, remained on opposite ends of a bridge that neither of us could get across. Yet somehow we had come together, just once, and touched for a quick moment in time before being flung back to our rightful, separated places and now our parallel lines were about to converge again.