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Los Angeles Times Valley Edition | Glendale News-Press | 2005 Janruary 29
Greg, Lilit, and the nostalgic scents
BY PATRICK AZADIAN
Fog was unusual in Glendale. And Greg knew it was going to be an unusual morning as soon as he rolled out of the gym. On this foggy spring morning, the air had decided to behave like an unruly teenager. She had rebelled against her hapless parents and was determined to be everything they raised her not to be. She had made herself visible to everyone, she'd covered her nudity with a sheer satin white dress, and if Greg's senses were still intact, she'd been bold enough to dab on a mysterious scent.
As Greg rolled his wheelchair onto the sidewalk and toward the traffic signal, his lungs were gradually taken over by the unresolved aroma. Every breath brought back a set of ambiguously pleasant memories. Greg was feeling good; his gloomy insides had been transformed in a matter of minutes. He felt as he did before he left for his Marine assignment to Baghdad; it was a time when he was often in company of beautiful Lilit.
The closer Greg came to the street corner, the better he was able to resolve his spontaneous rush of feelings. He was finally able to identify the source of the scent.
He made out the figure of a young women and a child in the fog; they were waiting at the traffic light. As the child was jumping up and down tirelessly to press the walk button, Greg came closer. He knew that fragrance; the young woman was wearing a perfume similar to Lilit's.
The 'walk' sign came on and the women and the child darted across the street.
Greg followed and began breathing deeply to take in as much of the scent as he could into his lungs; more air meant more nostalgic bliss.
By this time, the child had noticed the man in the wheelchair. He turned around and made eye contact with Greg; then, he pulled mommy down by her right arm and whispered in her ear.
This was Greg's cue to snap out of his eerie trance. His state only highlighted the fact that he'd lost Lilit for good.
Greg felt his throat getting tighter, his chest becoming heavier, and his surroundings turning dimmer. His tears were waiting to burst into forbidden outside world.
But Greg had learned a few valuable lessons during the war: Never admit you are wrong, never show your weaknesses, never cry, and never ever, admit you are in love.
He put his arms into good use, sped up the wheelchair and passed the woman and the child, leaving the familiar scent behind . . .
Greg Hauser had been in love once.
He'd met her at Glendale College the year he was dispatched on his Marine assignment to Iraq. She was a Kurdish girl named, Lilit. An unusual name for a Kurd; it was a name with Hebrew roots and widespread Armenian usage. Greg was good in striking up conversations:
"My friends tell me your name is Armenian."
"Yes, but I am not Armenian. I am Kurdish."
"My friends think maybe you have Armenian roots but don't want to admit it."
"No, not true. But there is an Armenian connection with my name."
"What is it?"
"I don't think I know you well enough to tell you the story."
"Oh com'on... you tell me a story and I'll tell you a story."
"Okay... My family is from the city of Van in the southeast of Turkey. When my grandmother was eight, she had a playmate her age. She was an Armenian girl named Lilit. I guess, one spring morning, Lilit and her family disappeared. My grandmother cried for months and refused to make new friends with the neighborhood kids."
"Did Lilit ever return?"
"She was never seen again; they were all sort of stories about her. Some say she was taken in as a slave to a neighboring village, some say her family vanished in the desert, and some say she and her mother drowned themselves in the Euphrates River. No one knows."
"Tragic! And you are named after her..."
"Yes, I am. Granny's wish."
Greg was proud of his initial contact with Lilit. Now, he owed her a story and had an opportunity for a second conversation. After doing a little bit of research, he was back with fresh chat material.
"Did you know there is a Jewish legend about the name 'Lilith?' "
"What kind?"
"I am not sure about the details, but it has to do with Adam and Eve."
"Really. What is it?"
"Supposedly, Lilith came before Eve. She was more beautiful and more independent-minded than her. She was also created equal to Adam."
"Go on."
"I guess, eventually, Lilith runs away with Satan, Adam is devastated, but gets Eve as a replacement."
"Interesting. I am sure my parents were not aware of the story."
"Probably not."
"Besides, I have no intention of dating any 'bad boys,' and I would think Satan easily falls into the 'bad boy' category . . ."
Copyright 2005 Glendale News Press
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