Chapter 1
She had wanted to try this cafe for some time, finding it quiet and quaint. One step up from the sidewalk brought her to the brick patio that contained ten tables with four chairs each. Bright orange and red umbrellas overhead kept off the hot sun. Asaina felt glad that she was the only one there. She sat at a table facing the street, where the umbrella angle was perfect for maximizing her shade.
“Iced tea,” she said when the server approached.
She ignored the menu he put on the table.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He immediately left to go into the cafe. Asaina knew the cafe was air- conditioned and since he was wearing black, he would not stay out in the sun any longer than he had to. She thought it silly to dress their waiters in black and thought the accessorized little white apron as useless.
She took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh with a faint scent of apples, but something was troubling her. The place evoked memories. Unpleasant memories. She sniffed the air again and wondered if she was really smelling grapes, musty grapes. However, she couldn’t identify where the smell came from.
In an attempt to brush away the memories, she pushed back her thick black hair. She had it braided down her back, but the humidity caused it to frizz and escape her braid. Her t-shirt felt plastered against her. She hoped sitting in the shade with a drink would cool her. It was too nice of a day to sit inside. Besides, sitting inside tended to evoke even worse memories.
A couple holding hands passed by, bringing to her the faint whiff of chocolate.
The server returned with her drink. “Anything else?”
“That’s it for now. Thank you,” she said, knowing they didn’t like it when a customer only had an iced tea. Cheap tea was their way of drawing in customers.
However, the waiter smiled pleasantly, left the menu, and disappeared back into the cafe. She knew there were no patrons inside since she had seen through the windows when she stepped up to the patio. All the waiters looked to be leaning against a wall, waiting for something to do. She could almost feel their eyes on her back, since she was their only customer. This place was a little off the beaten path and it was too early for the lunch crowd.
She sipped her tea, relishing the coolness, but the memory persisted. Durga had been one of her best friends until that day she met Durga’s grandfather. That memory evoked another one of a boy playing on a jungle gym.
She grimaced and pushed the memories away.
A group of three people, two women and a man, found a table on the patio. By their dress, she could tell they were locals. They chose the table that was the farthest from her, for which she was glad. However, she wasn’t so happy about their presence at all. A faint scent of rubber, like a tire, wafted by, but she didn’t see any cars. She really wished she could have remained the only customer.
Two boys on bikes sped by, bringing with them the scent of coffee.
Asaina sipped her iced tea, unable to fully push the memory away: the day when the boy was playing on the jungle gym. That was the day she learned the smell of death. She was ten years old, and it was recess time at school. There was a teacher yelling at the boy. He was trying to do jumps and flips while on top of the jungle gym, like a typical boy showing off.
The smell was a sickening stench of rotting meat. It was a scent that made her ill. She remembered cringing and sinking to the ground, mumbling that he was going to die. And he did. He landed wrong and broke his neck.
Asaina took a deep breath to clear both the memory in her mind and her nose, but that only brought her back to the other memory.
She wished she could take back what she had said to Durga.
The server came out to bring menus and take the people’s drink order.
Asaina watched him leave, remembering the day when Durga and she were heading to a cafe like this one. On that day, Durga said they had to stop by her grandfather’s house. Asaina had never visited Durga’s grandfather before, but had heard many wonderful stories about him. However, of late, Durga was worried about him and wanted to check on him.
Asaina had smelled death on him, but had managed to control her churning stomach. When they left, she thought she was being very careful and sensitive when she asked her how long the doctors had given him to live. Durga had become offended and stated her grandfather was in perfect health.
She and Durga never made it to the cafe, and she hadn’t heard from her since. Durga never returned her voice mails or emails. She knew it was only a day later that Durga’s grandfather had died. Durga never acknowledged the card of sympathy Asaina sent.
Her nose twitched at an odd pungent, sour milk smell. The server hadn’t brought out any food. She couldn’t identify the source until a man sat across from her.
“Good morning,” he said.
Asaina found the sound of his chair when he pulled it out to be an obnoxiously loud scraping. However, the people at the other table took little notice.
She stared at him, somewhat affronted that he joined her. He reeked of sour milk, but thankfully, the slight breeze wafted it away.
A server came out to take his order.
“Iced tea and some ginger biscuits,” the man said, waving away a menu.
She sniffed again, but the sour milk scent was almost gone.
“You probably need a ginger biscuit,” he said. “How’s your stomach?”
“My stomach is fine. It’s my nose that’s confused.”
He smiled. “I’ll try not to smell too pungent, Asaina.”
She stiffened because he said her name. He was a stranger to her. She had never seen his face before. Her memory was excellent. Perhaps too good. He had dangerous looking black eyes, like a snake ready to strike. His hair was brown, peppered with gray. His skin was tan from the sun. He had to be in his forties. She could tell he was much taller than herself, and taller than the average man, even though this city tended to have taller than normal people. She herself stood at five feet and seven inches, and was considered tall for a woman.
“You have beautiful green eyes,” he said with a smile.
She frowned. “Who are you? You seem to know me.”
He shrugged. “You can call me Han.”
“What do you want?”
The server arrived with his drink and biscuits, then left, taking her menu with him.
“A ginger will help your stomach.” He nudged the plate of biscuits closer to her.
“I know what will help my stomach and I know what hurts my stomach. You’re not helping,” she said, taking a biscuit and biting into it. She felt somewhat surprised to find them warm and soft.
He smiled and sipped his tea, then took a biscuit. “I know what you can do. I’ve come to offer you a job.”
She swallowed her bite and sipped some tea to chase it down.
“What do you mean, you know what I can do?” Her last job was as a file clerk, which was hardly a marketable skill. Even though she had a college degree, she found it difficult to find work and she couldn’t understand why.
“You know when people are going to die,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Is anyone around going to die?”
She glared at him, wondering if this was some sort of joke.
He snapped a finger, and the man at the other table began to choke.
Her eyes swept between the choking man and the man across from her. There was a sickly sweet smell of grapes in the air, not the smell of death.
“He will not die,” she said.
One woman patted the man firmly on his back.
“Sorry about that,” she heard him say. “I swallowed wrong.”
The scent of grapes dissipated.
Han smiled. “You need a job. I can offer one.”
“How do you know I need a job?”
“We’ve been watching you. You lost your job… almost a year ago. Jobs are hard to find.”
She knew all too well that the unemployment rate was high. A couple of large employers had left the city or gone out of business. The company she had worked for had locked their doors for good.
“Did you do this?” she said in an accusing voice, blaming him for her job loss.
He shook his head. “We only found you a few weeks ago.”
“How did you find me?”
“We stumbled across a young lady who said you cursed her grandfather.”
Cursed?
Durga.
She found most people in the city were extremely superstitious. Durga was no exception.
“He died. She accused you of cursing him to death,” he said. “My employers asked me to look into you.”
He smiled and sniffed the air.
“You smell of… It’s a hard scent to describe. Perception perhaps. It’s rather pleasant.”
“You smelled of sour milk.”
“Hum, I would say that was the smell of uncertainty. I’m not uncertain any more. But it’s your ability to smell death that we’re interested in.”
Asaina sat back at his words. She never thought that she could smell other emotions. In a city full of smells, she had always attributed what she smelled to the surrounding environment. However, now that she thought about it, it made sense. She remembered that she always smelled peppermint when she was happy.
Han sipped his drink, bringing her attention back to him.
“Why would I go sniffing for something that makes me ill?” she said.
“We pay well.” He smiled, then finished his biscuit.
She grimaced.
“Work for us once or twice a month and we will keep you in your apartment. Well fed with money to spare.”
She was quick with numbers. “That’s a lot of money for two sniffs.”
He chuckled.
“I don’t know if I want to do that,” she said. “Sniff out death.”
“Your stomach already feels better. If you carry around ginger chews, you’ll always be prepared.” He smiled again.
She decided he needed to brush his teeth since they looked stained. Many men had the bad habit of chewing tobacco. However, she couldn’t smell it on his breath. Sometimes it was from chewing betel nut, but she couldn’t smell that either. She wondered if the ginger biscuit masked the scent.
“Thank you, but no thank you,” she said.
“Think about it. At any rate, train with me for a few days, and decided after that. I’ll pay you during training, but not the same rate as when I need you for a serious sniff.”
She smirked at his words. “You have no idea how ridiculous you sound.”
He smiled. “You have no idea what you can do.”
“You seem to have a good sense of smell. Why do you need me?”
He sipped his tea and took another ginger biscuit. “Some people have a decent sense of smell. Some have an excellent sense of smell. Others… well, like me, can smell emotions like a dog. But then there are the rarest, like you, who can rival any bloodhound. Not only can you smell emotions, you know where they are coming from.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Like I said, I’ve been watching you.”
Asaina felt a shiver go up her back. “That is creepy.”
He smiled and shrugged. “And I know your rent is due in a few days. Can you pay it?”
Asaina didn’t like what he knew, especially since he was correct. She didn’t have the money to pay her rent.
He ate his ginger biscuit, then chugged the rest of his tea.
“Think about it,” he said, before pulling out a money clip. He pulled out a few large bills and put them on the table near her. “Enough for the tea and biscuits. Enough to show you I’m serious.”
Han rose and walked away.
Asaina watched him go. She felt aware that he dressed like a local, wearing loose white trousers and a white tunic, but she knew he wasn’t a local. His speech pattern and his facial appearance told her he was from another country. However, she didn’t know accents and where they originated from. At best, she could tell by how a local person used words, whether he was from the south or north side of city central.
Asaina finished her ginger biscuit.
The waiter stepped out with a tray of drinks for the other table.
Asaina took the money that Han left behind. She hardly needed to count it to know that Han was wrong on one thing. He had left enough for her to make her rent, except she had a few other bills to pay that were actually more important.
She cringed, thinking in a way he was right. After she paid these bills, she wouldn’t make her rent.
Her eyes had seen the thickness of his money clip. He was either showing off or really showing her he indeed had that sort of money. Outwardly, he showed no wealth by wearing any jewelry or stylish clothing.
She sipped her tea and corrected her impression of him. He wore one item that was expensive. His shoes looked as if they came from a local artisan, which meant they were handmade to order.
Asaina took the last ginger biscuit.
She mulled over the events of yesterday when she had visited an employment agency. The woman she had met with had a sour demeanor and little hope for her. Based on that woman’s impression, the colleges were pumping out graduates with no skills. She gave Asaina little hope of finding a job.
Asaina frowned at the prospect. Her one year of unemployment benefits ended this month, which meant she would get one last check. That and the money from Han wouldn’t pay her rent and all her bills. She found herself in a dilemma.
Food was never a worry. There were temples in the city that offered everyone a meal. Some even served two meals a day to the poor and hungry. She had her favorite that she visited every day, even though she didn’t worship or follow any religion.
She savored the ginger biscuit, having to admit they were perfect for settling her stomach. Having gotten used to one meal a day, she already felt full from just the tea and biscuits. Had she not felt sated, she might have ordered more of them.
She swallowed the last bit of biscuit and sipped her tea.
The hardest part of her day-to-day living was affording the fare to travel to job fairs or interviews. However, of late, she found no job fairs to attend, and no one had called her to schedule an interview.
Asaina flicked her hand to indicate she wanted her bill. The waiter was quick to bring it out.
Her discovery of this cafe resulted from her walking around looking for any small store or business that needed help. However, every place seemed to have workers standing around. Like here. The cafe didn’t need five waiters.
That thought led her to her other expense: her phone. She decided she better pay that bill, deeming that her most important possession. It was even more important than her apartment. If evicted, her final recourse was to go live in a cousin’s garden, even though the last she had heard, there were two other relatives living there. She knew if that was what she had to do, then she would lose many of her belongings, since there would be no room for them.
Asaina rose, placing some of her own money for the tea and biscuits on the table, so she could keep the larger bills Han had given her. She stepped down from the patio, heading up the street.
The street was narrow, allowing only foot or bike traffic. However, when she turned the corner, the road widened. She found it busy with people, bikes, scooters, and small delivery trucks. The sidewalks were difficult to maneuver since shop owners placed their merchandise right there. Shop owners who weren’t already busy with a customer accosted her to entice her to spend her money.
Asaina just shook her head and continued on.
All around her were the smells and sounds of the city. She never really paid much attention to the smells unless they were bad. Unfortunately, there were many foul smells, but no way to avoid them. She felt thankful that she wasn’t smelling death.
After some blocks, she stepped into a shop. There was a kiosk she could use to pay for another month on her phone. She paused to let a man pass her. He wore a soccer jersey, probably supporting his team, however, he wore it inside out.
Asaina rolled her eyes, wondering if the man really believed it was good luck for his team. She knew this wasn’t uncommon, thinking she had seen it all. However, the worst was not how a person wore the jersey, but if they never washed it. She wrinkled her nose at the memory of one such person at the office where she used to work.
The kiosk took one of Han’s bills, then dished out her change. She pocketed the money, wishing there was someway she could accelerate her job search. The idea of seeing Han again wasn’t a pleasant thought.
“I’m searching as fast as I can,” she muttered to herself.
She had even applied for domestic service positions, but was told she had no chance since she had no experience.
“Who needs experience mopping a floor?”
Asaina stepped outside and resumed her travel up the street. The number of people and vehicles increased since it was getting closer to the lunch hour. She kept her arms tight against herself so not to bang into anyone, which was getting almost impossible to do. Being jostled wasn’t her favorite activity, so she stepped out of the flow of traffic. She was in no hurry, knowing she had another hour before the temple served its meal, for which she was glad, still being full of biscuits.
A scent wafted by her nose, triggering a memory. However, the memory was about Han. She stopped and turned.
