Julia

"For the last time I am warning both of you to maintain the silence" yelled the librarian

Julia and I got to know each other on that day only as we both were holding the same book, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I am sure none of us was reading the book; I was there because I relished the secrecy of the library. I sit near the self of 'Fiction' because those books pilot me to the world of fantasy. The world outside of the library is unpolished and dry and Julia believes the same way too.

Days passed and we used to talk inside the library every day, hiding from the stern librarian and of course without interrupting the silence of the room. Though we both love to read a lot when we meet we pause our reading and start chatting about something else. It feels good. And this exchange in talks and silent laughter are the things that make the inside of the library exuberant. She dresses black every day, if not the same black but she tries different shades of black.

              "Black is the unmarried queen of colours," she says and I thought she wears black because she loves the game of Thrones very much and Daenerys was the unmarried queen of seven kingdoms.

Within a few days we originated a bond between us, she was a regular visitor of the library and that made me one too. I never asked her about her personal life and neither did she. The library was our world and we were the only active alive being inside the small world, the books were the doors that lead us to joy, horror and fantasy. Months passed and our bond grew stronger and also grew our art of talking without being noticed, especially by the rude librarian and who was an anti-hero of the small world.

It was that one day, she was late, I waited almost an hour for her and when I was checking out of the library she came in, looked at me, her eyes were red and I understood that she was crying. I checked in again and followed her to our seat in the corner. She said nothing, not even a word, I put my hand on her, and she still said nothing. We spent the whole day inside the library without even talking a single word. That was the day when I felt how painful the silence, for which I abandoned the crowded world can be.

              “It’s time, we are closing now” reminded the librarian in a very low voice. Maybe he could see her gloomy and dead face too.

We left the library holding our hands for the first time. We walked on the road for the first time together. After walking a good amount of distance, I felt the grip of her hand tighter, she looked very scared, and the tears that she was holding inside the library are now rolling down.

              “Tell me what is the matter, Julia," I asked but she remained silent

              “This is not the library, there is no rude librarian here” I continued but she remained silent.

After walking for another hundred meters I saw a car crash, the blood was still warm and the stains were, the police and some people were gathered around the spot, I looked at Julia she was scared so I took her to my apartment as it was closer to the library. I offered her a cup of noodle and without even uttering a word, she hugged me tight and slept on the sofa placing her head on my lap.

The next morning when I woke up, she was gone. I looked for her everywhere but couldn’t find her. I called her but it was unreachable. I concluded that she might have headed home. As usual, I finished my work and headed to the library. During checking in to the library I saw the newspaper of the day, with a picture of Julia, covered in blood and death. It was the car crash. I still couldn't believe how it felt at that time, I couldn't cry. I was confused.

              "Didn't you see the girl with me while I checked out of the library yesterday?" I asked insanely the librarian

              “No you left alone” he replied

I couldn’t understand what was happening. Maybe everyone was insane, maybe no one was telling the truth. I believed no one and entered the library, looked at the table, where we sit every day.  Julia was sitting there and today she was smiling.

Months passed, Julia was staying with me all the time, without even saying a word. The librarian noticed me every day. He thought I was mad and so do all the other people in the library. I didn’t miss a single day in the library as it was the only place where Julia felt happy; she was saying anything but I could see the smile on her face sitting in her favourite corner. After some days my parents came to stay with me, they thought that I was not well. I told them about Julia, they started crying. I don’t understand why everyone was behaving like this, maybe I was wrong.

              “Get ready, we have an appointment with the psychiatrist,” my mother asked me

              “Okay,” I agreed without hesitation. Because somewhere now I was also doubting the existence of Julia.

The appointment didn’t go well. The doctor tried his best to make me agree to the fact that Julia was not real. But how can I agree that someone is dead when all the time she is with me. I was dying to talk to her; I was missing our whispers in the library.

              “Please talk to me” I shouted at Julia “tell me that you are real”

The librarian came and this time he asked me to leave the library. I left and so did Julia. We sat on the roadside chair. It was getting unbearable for me. Maybe they all are right, maybe she is dead and maybe the line between life and death that kept Julia silent. I walked on to the road, Julia was sitting on the chair, I looked her back and the last thing I heard was the loud sound of the approaching truck.