A Library and Some Time Travel
The sight of various students filing in and out of the library was one I wasn’t going to miss once I secured a job. The uncultured brats scampered about, relentlessly sabotaging the neat and precise alphabetical order. I mean, seriously, how excruciating can it be to merely put a book back where it was initially? Apparently volunteering at a library didn’t grant you the advantage of shouting at everyone in the vicinity so I had to keep my mouth sealed no matter how much I was pushed to the edge. My sole task was to be of guidance to strangers and of course, arrange each book according to alphabetical order.
Which is undoubtedly what I was up to Saturday night, placing back a copy of “fifty shades of grey” in the adult section from where I located it at the children’s one (whoever that took it upon themselves to pull a trick like that is certainly going to hell). Whilst doing so, I scented a whiff of cologne that was all too familiar. Perhaps he was a meter away, perhaps he was a mile away, I would’ve recognized that cologne even if I were dead. Which HE was, by the way. Or at least supposed to be.
He approached me with the same smug facial expression he was a professional at wearing, the same laid back aura escaping his every feature and just like that, I felt my heart penetrate back to its original life form, the layer of coldness slowly draining away.
“Hey, you!” As expected, it was that same husky voice that called out to me. “I got bored waiting at home so I just decided to join my Princess right here!”
The thing sounded just like him. The cringe-worthy pet name, the energy he radiated, everything led to the conclusion that this was really him. But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He reached out to grab my hand which I instantly pulled away and a sort of hurt flashed across his eyes. I felt like the villain in a fairytale doing that but I couldn’t help it, this man was my first love for eight years who also died on July 24th, 2017. Him just showing up here felt like another mischievous trick played by some immature who desperately wanted to target my weakest point. Placing a book where it clearly wasn’t meant to be was all fun and games but this was a bit of a stretch.
“Who are you?” And the cold side was back. “Or should I say, WHAT are you?” I could sense the vulnerability in my tone, the kind that tells you when someone is nearing a breakdown but I was firm, the most firm I’d ever been with him whilst he was alive and I could tell he took notice of that as well. He was certainly in utter shock, an emotion he was trying to conceal but not very effectively at that. He had the tendency to be as closed off as he could possibly get, even when he didn’t necessarily need to be. It was something I never fully understood about him but loved him all the more for this reserved side of his personality.
“What do you mean, Bee? I don’t think I quite understand?” And then, as if a little lightbulb went on in his brain, he added, “Oh! You’re angry because I didn’t pick up the phone! Forgive me, my love, I had to take care of some work issue…” And then it hit me! This whole scenario gave me very strong and sensual déjà vu, almost as if I’d literally lived through this conversation before. Which, although seemingly far fetched, was the most believable explanation my brain could conjure up at that point in time.
“What year is it?” I asked, interrupting his lengthy justification for not picking up my supposed phone call. His face reformed to showcase confusion once again and he took a few seconds before ultimately responding with just the year I expected, 2011. I’m sixteen according to him, or his time, or whatever this was. Upon glancing down at myself, I came to notice that I wasn’t wearing the clothes I had on merely a few minutes ago and was instead dressed up in apparel quite girly for me. Now that I knew he wasn’t technically a ghost, not right now anyway, it was the appropriate time to figure out how I’d traveled back eight years without some sort of wacky transportation. And had the whole world gone back? Or just him and I? My mind was going haywire and I had yet to take care of the unhinged lover who was staring at me very intently, possibly having second thoughts about joining me here.
And then he was gone. Just like that. One moment he was gazing at my concerned expression and the next, he wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t exactly poof into thin air, no. He just disappeared and in all honesty, this brought about a tad more confusion to my already overloaded brain. Before I could completely register the unrealistic nature of the events unfolding before me, he was there again. This time, really tiny. He gave off the look of a kid twelve or thirteen years of age and this time I, too, was tiny. From being at least 5 foot and a few inches off the ground, I had shrunk immensely.
He was approaching me, same expression, same behavior, same everything. This was the first time we met. This was exactly how we met. I had the memory etched in my mind like a pretty detail on a ruined piece of clothing. I should run away. I would never know him and hence, I would never have to live through his death. He would be a nobody to me and I wouldn’t be forced into spending a lifetime weeping his loss. He was nearing closer and closer. I had about ten seconds to take away. Ten seconds to amend my life and myself, ten seconds to avoid a lifetime of grieving. The golden ten seconds eventually came to end and now I was face to face with a miniature version of the love of my life.
“Hey, Bee! Wait – no! I meant Bianca! Sorry, I was just thinking of bees. Not that I think you’re a bee!” the blabbing was just as I remembered distinctly. “Never mind. Anyway, hey, Bianca.”
What do I do? Do I say what I said all those years back, throwing back my head whilst laughing, giving his self-esteem a boost? Or do I merely turn away? To be fair, he did die because of me, shielding me form a robber who had decided to pull the trigger on me. It’s always the cliches that show themselves to be true. And I loved cliches, I truly did, but unfortunately, my life was a twisted sort of cliche because otherwise if it had played out as it did in the movies, he would’ve ended up in the hospital at the most; not dead.
“July 24th, 2017,” I instantly started. “Don’t come back home, I won’t either and both of us will be alive. Inform the police that there’s been a robbery at our house at 8:15 pm sharp too.” I hadn’t exactly planned that out at all. It just flowed out of my mouth like a downstream river. I just knew that I needed him in my life because otherwise, I’d basically be dead. I also didn’t want to endure his death so this option was the best of both worlds. All he had to do was remember. But he thought I was mental. He eyed me strangely, clearly not sure how to react to this turn of events.
“Come on then, quick staring at me and write that down!” I demanded and as expected, he promptly obeyed, taking out a small piece of paper he’d saved for me to write my number on (a past experience had taught me that). After he was done asking me to repeat my words several times and had safely written the reminder down in clumsy handwriting, along with promising me he won’t throw the paper away, I wrote my number on the side of it and gave it back to him.
My height went back to normal although my appearance couldn’t have been more different. I had a very classy dress on, one I couldn’t imagine affording, and my library volunteer tag was missing. It took me a minute itself to digest my novel look and then I saw him, crystal clear. He was in the aisle next to the one I was fixed at.
“Hey, are you done borrowing your freaky books, Bee?” He called out to me. “I’m really bored and hungry and really wanna go back home so we can binge-watch the new show.” Wait a minute! What if this was another déjà vu that I merely failed to remember precisely. What if it was 2012? Or 2013?
“What year is it?” I asked him, shakily. I didn’t know whether my little plan was even slightly effective or not because at this point, I really couldn’t be sure.
“Why, 2010, of course!” He declared and instantly I felt the blood drain out of my face. I was still stuck in a time before his death. When he glanced at my horrific facial expression, he became really confused and slightly scared. “You know I was just kidding, dear. It’s obviously 2019.”
