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There once was a man who was so ordinary that people couldn’t remember him. He was of medium height and weight, was the middle child in an average family, and managed to make his way through school unnoticed.
John was content blending efficiently into the woodwork. He had no desire to stand out, except maybe to a certain blonde with whom he worked. In fact, he went out of his way to remain unnoticed. When he was growing up his father used to warn him about standing out. “The tall poppy gets cut,” his father would say.
John was not going to be the tall poppy.
Each morning John got up and went to work at the insurance company. He made polite small talk with the other employees but never developed any real friendships. It was particularly awkward with the cute blonde from accounting. He had been trying to find reasons to talk with her for the past six months, but “I like your stapler” was too bland, and “you look cute in that dress” was way out of his comfort zone. It was challenging to get noticed by the object of his affection while at the same time remaining invisible.
One morning he was brushing his teeth and noticed something odd. His nose seemed bigger.
He looked closer, slowly turning his head from side to side, then put on his reading glasses and looked again. He grabbed a hand mirror so he could get a better look from the side.
Yes, it looked bigger. But he was a grown man. N noses don’t suddenly start growing again.
He put the thought out of his mind and went to work.
The next day he woke up and went straight into the bathroom to look in the mirror. His nose looked even bigger. Impossible! He put on his glasses and again checked the view from both sides.
It certainly looked bigger.
He shoved his glasses all the way up his nose and against his face. He placed the tip of his finger against his glasses and let the length of his finger run down his nose. The end of his nose was exactly at the crease of his second knuckle. He didn’t know how big his nose was to begin with but at least now he could measure for changes, if there were any.
That night he was restless in bed, taking forever to fall asleep. Partly it was because he kept smelling yesterday’s roast chicken and it made him hungry, but mostly it was worry.
When he finally drifted off, he dreamed about a giant nose as big as his head. The nose chased him, screaming at him through a megaphone while hundreds of people watched. He ran through the house slamming doors, but the giant nose slipped under and continued chasing him. He was exhausted by the time his alarm went off.
He grabbed his reading glasses and again went straight into the bathroom. His nose seemed even longer and wider than it had the day before. He put on his glasses, pressed them against his face, and measured again with his finger.
This was impossible.
His nose no longer ended at the crease of his second knuckle. It was half-way past the crease, towards the joint at the end of his finger.
He examined his glasses to see if they had somehow gotten bent. That could account for the change in measurement, he told himself.
The glasses weren’t bent.
He tried them on again and re-measured.
Same result.
John grabbed the hand mirror and looked at the side profile. His nose definitely looked longer from the side.
He slid down the cabinet and slumped to the floor. How could this be?
He remained there immobilized for another hour. Finally, he forced himself to get up and get ready for work. He took a quick shower, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He grabbed a Pop Tart out of the freezer, toasted it while he tied his shoes and put on his coat, and ate it on the way into the insurance office.
When he arrived, people seemed to be staring at him. Was it his nose, or because he was late? He was never late. That’s the reason then, he told himself.
“Are you OK?” asked the cute blonde from accounting. Every time he had gotten close to talking with her, he had backed away, too embarrassed to draw attention to himself. Now she was talking to him.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Your nose,” she said. “It looks swollen or something.”
“Just allergies.”
This was not the conversation starter John had imagined, and now he might have ruined his chances forever. But his snout might have done that already. He quickly turned his back and found his way to his cubicle.
He leaned into his cubicle for the rest of the day, making sure his nose couldn’t be seen outside the cube’s walls.
At lunchtime no one else said anything to him, but several people took a second look. Between that and the potent smell of the copy machine’s toner, it was hard to enjoy his chicken sandwich. He began pretending there was something in his eye whenever someone walked by, shielding his nose with his hand.
John made it through the rest of the day, grateful that it was Friday and that he would have the weekend away from all the attention. It seemed like every person in the office was looking at him, and he had enough. He had become the tall poppy, and it made him want to scream.
But only after he was alone.
He made it through most of the weekend staying inside and watching football, until late Sunday when he took out his garbage, which was particularly odiferous this week. He nodded to his next-door neighbor, who was doing the same thing. They had known each other for six years but had never really talked beyond exchanging pleasantries.
“Hey Joe,” said the neighbor.
“It’s John,” said John.
“Your, uh, nose looks bigger. What the hell happened?”
While John normally said nothing more controversial than “your yard looks nice,” he was furious.
“Why don’t you do something about that dog shit in your yard?” he said. “I can smell it from inside my house with the windows closed.”
He stormed back into the house. He didn’t want to make enemies, but what kind of jerk kicks a man when he’s down?
By Monday morning it didn’t take a measurement to see how much bigger his nose had gotten. It was as if he had put on funny Groucho Marx glasses with bushy eyebrows and a giant nose. Except there were no glasses, and no bushy eyebrows.
And it wasn’t funny.
He called in sick, which in a way was true. Then he called his doctor’s office. He had known this doctor for half his life. He asked for an emergency appointment, not exactly the low-profile way John did things. But desperate times.
The doctor came into the exam room. “Mr. Willis?”
“Williams.”
The doctor nodded, barely taking note. “I can’t tell you what would cause this. “I’ve never run across a case like yours, even in medical journals. The growth is happening far faster than I would expect, even for something like cancer. It doesn’t look like it’s swollen. It just looks... big. Otherwise, I would be thinking it could possibly be an infection. Frankly, I’m baffled. I’d like to run a full battery of tests and rule out anything that could be, ah, detrimental to your health.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure this happened over just a few days?”
“You think I made this up for attention?”
The doctor looked at the floor and nodded to himself. “Because of the alarming speed of growth, I think we should get you into the hospital.”
“Anything,” said John. “There has to be a way to stop this.”
John drove his grey Ford Taurus straight to the hospital. He was given a series of blood tests, a CT scan covering most of his body, and an MRI of his brain. He was relieved that they only had to poke him once for all these tests because the powerful smell of rubbing alcohol made him nauseous.
Once he was settled in his room a nurse came in and measured the length and width of his nose with calipers. That evening another nurse came back in and made a plaster cast of his nose.
The following morning two nurses came into his room. The man re-measured his nose with the calipers while the woman watched. Both were frowning.
“Let me try,” said the woman. She re-measured. Both nurses looked at the calipers, then the chart, then each other.
“What about seeing how the plaster casting fits?” asked the man.
“Let’s do it,” said the woman.
They left the room and then returned with the cast. The woman slid it over his nose.
It didn’t fit.
“Are you sure this is his?” asked the man.
“Have you seen any other nose casts on this floor?” replied the woman.
The man walked out of the room, but the woman held back.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t know how to say this, but I’m a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.”
“Spare me.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“How about a new nose?”
She gave a patronizing smile and left the room.
That afternoon his doctor came to his room. “I’ve reviewed all your blood work and your scans, and everything looks remarkably normal.”
“The story of my life,” said John.
“We’re going to run a few more tests and keep you here a little longer if you don’t mind.”
“Will my insurance cover it? Insurance doesn’t cover normal.”
“They won’t,” said the doctor, “but the hospital will. I was able to tap into a fund for extraordinary medical conditions.”
“I don’t want to be extraordinary,” said John.
“I’m afraid we’re past that, John. In fact, you’re going to make the medical journals.”
“I don’t want that kind of attention.”
“You don’t need to worry about that. All information that identifies you personally will be redacted.”
“Can you redact my nose?”
John imagined medical texts filled with patients that had horrific medical conditions. He had browsed through books like this before. They always covered part of the person’s face with a black line so they couldn’t be identified. It made them look like they were in the Witness Protection Program.
The doctor patted him on the shoulder. “Once the growth has stopped, you may want to consider rhinoplasty.”
“What’s that?”
“Nose surgery.”
“What kind of sick bastard came up with a name like that?” asked John.
The doctor laughed, then walked out of the room shaking his head. “That’s a good one, John.”
The next day during visiting hours a mother with a small child walked by his room. The boy stopped and stared at John.
“Look at that man’s nose, Mommy.”
“Don’t point, son. It’s not polite,” said Mommy. She looked at John. “Sorry, we’re still working on manners.” She scurried away, pulling the boy by the arm. He was still pointing at John’s nose as they moved out of site.
John got out of bed and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. He had never needed the kind of attention that came from being in a hospital before, and he certainly didn’t want it now. He got dressed and walked out of the hospital, AMA. Against Medical Advice.
It would draw attention to him, but it was less attention than staying to be part of a freak show.
John went home. As he pulled into his driveway he could see his neighbor mowing his lawn, staring at him. The neighbor ran over his own flowers with his mower.
John drove into the garage and shut the door.
Enough was enough.
He went online, found what he was looking for, and made a reservation. Then he packed up his grey Taurus and headed for the coast. He needed to get away.
Away from nosey neighbors.
Away from anyone who knew him.
Even with his windows rolled up, he could smell the salt air miles before he got to the coast. There must be unusual trade winds to catch the scent from this far away.
But as he got closer, the scent became more intense. The ocean had never smelled so good.
Not long before reaching his motel he spotted a little roadside diner and pulled in. When he entered he was hit with the surprisingly intense smell of maple syrup. Then he smelled coffee. And bacon. The scent of burgers and fries were next, followed by catsup and barbeque sauce. Toast. Melted butter. Melted butter? There was none in sight, but the smell was unmistakable.
A redheaded waitress in a yellow uniform, enveloped in the surprisingly appealing smell of Dove soap, led him to a booth. He got stares from people at the tables he passed, but he was getting used to it. He held his nose high. Up yours, he thought.
At least they were strangers.
He ordered a patty melt on rye bread and a cup of black coffee but told the waitress to wait until she brewed the next pot. “It smells like that one is getting a little old.” He nodded towards the coffee pot behind the counter at the far end, thirty feet away.
She looked at the pot, glanced at his nose, and then quickly diverted her glance to his eyes. “I’ll make you a fresh pot.”
When the meal arrived John dove in. It was the best tasting patty melt he had ever had.
“You look like you’re enjoying that food,” said the waitress.
“Loving it,” said John. “Rye bread had never tasted so... rye before. And the fries are delicious!”
He would have to remember this place. That wouldn’t be hard when the food tasted this good. He thanked the waitress, left a large tip for the excellent meal, and walked out.
John drove to his motel and went to the front desk to check in. The manager did a double take when he compared John’s photo ID to the visage in front of him.
“I’m an actor,” said John. “We’re doing Cyrano de Bergerac and I’m the star. We’re having dress rehearsal in a little while.”
The manager looked mildly impressed. “Great makeup,” he said. “Break a leg.”
John bowed deeply and with a flourish. Never mind that you don’t say “break a leg” for a rehearsal, or the fact that it was a fake rehearsal at that. John – dare he admit it – enjoyed the attention.
He went to his room. This was an older motel, but it was right on the bluff overlooking the sea and it was within his budget.
The room smelled musty, but there was more. In one of the corners it smelled like someone had kept a diaper pail. Not recently though. Maybe a week ago. He picked up the lingering aroma of cheap perfume and some body spray, or perhaps deodorant. Axe? And there was one other scent near the bed, though it had been a very, very long time. It was the unmistakable smell of sex.
John thought about complaining to the manager and asking for another room but didn’t want to make a scene. He put on a warm jacket and went out to the bluff, finding a nice bench facing the ocean.
From here the ocean’s aromas were even more intense. It was more complex than just salt spray. There were all kinds of fishy smells, but he didn’t know what they were. And one other smell... wet dog. He went over to the rail at the cliff’s edge and looked down. Maybe seventy feet below was the beach. He spotted a golden retriever coming out of the tide with a Frisbee in its mouth.
Next, he drove down the coast to the aquarium and waited his turn in line, more excited than he had been since he was a kid to see the aquatic life. Except this time he wasn’t just going to just see it.
He went to the first tank and breathed in.
So that’s what crab smelled like.
He made his way around to the different exhibits, ignoring the irritating gawkers who were more interested in his schnoz than they were the exhibits. They were pathetic. Beyond that, they didn’t know what they were missing.
A little girl walked up in front of him, stopped, and stared.
“I lied a lot when I was a kid,” said John. “Just like Pinocchio.”
The little girl ran and hid behind her mother. John chuckled.
He moved on to the next tank and smelled octopus for the first time. After that it was lobster, then penguins and manta rays. Dolphins, sharks, and sea lions were next, followed by starfish and eels. And then the potent smell of salmon.
After, he returned to the cliff just in time to see the sun setting over the ocean. It was spectacular, a view he never got in the city. But more than that, it smelled beautiful, like a symphony of scents if he could be so bold. This time he was able to recognize the distinct sea life from the aquarium in the salt breeze. It was magical.
When the last light of dusk vanished John got back in his car and made his way to a seafood restaurant. He had seen it earlier when driving through town and it had smelled heavenly. He ordered the surf and turf and a nicer glass of cabernet sauvignon that he would normally spring for.
The wine did not disappoint. There was an earthy smell, but he also detected something fruity... pomegranates! When he finally let the wine reach his tongue he was in ecstasy. There were strong hints of oak and just enough tannin to pique his taste buds. There was an eruption of other tastes that added to the enjoyment, but he didn’t recognize them. Maybe he would take a wine tasting course. Finally, he understood what all those snooty wine people were talking about. Until now he thought they were making things up.
The main course arrived. The prime rib had a flavor as rich and colorful as Fourth of July fireworks going off in his mouth. The prawns were dripping with a garlic and butter sauce, sizzling hot. He took a bite, then closed his eyes to the outside world. Nothing could make this moment more sublime.
He finished his dinner. Despite the wonderful smells of flan, lemon merengue pie and chocolate cake from nearby tables, he was too stuffed for dessert. He made his way into the bar and sampled another glass of cab. This entire night may have been beyond his budget, but he didn’t care. Food and drink had never tasted this good.
He sat at the bar listening to a smoky blues tune and inhaling the aromas from his drink when another scent came to him.
Dove soap.
He spun his chair around and found the redheaded waitress from the diner, this time in her civies, smiling at him.
“We meet again,” she said.
“You see so many customers that I didn’t think you’d recognize me. Other than maybe for my nose.”
“What I remembered most about you was how much you were enjoying your food, not what your nose looks like.”
“Please,” said John. “If my nose was any longer it would be a foot.”
She laughed. “Okay, maybe both. But nothing wrong with that. You’re memorable.”
John looked down at his glass. “Hmm. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sorry,” she said. “Can’t. I’m here with friends.”
John nodded knowingly. So that’s as far as it goes.
She waved her beer bottle towards a small group over by the window. John felt silly, offering her a drink when she already had one. Worse, he had doubted her.
“I just wanted to say hello. Hey, stop by the diner sometime if you get the chance.”
“I’ll do that,” he said.
He watched her walk over to her friends before he turned back towards the bar. He swirled his wine and inhaled the aromas.
Memorable, he thought. He sipped his wine.
I like the sound of that.