“I know. It is a good story.” He said.
“Thank you.” She said.
“I wonder. It is a good story.” He said.
“You told me this, anything else?” She asked.
“What else, It is good story… Everybody knows.”
“Yeah, it won the prize… So it is definitely a good story.”
“I know, how many stories you wrote?”
“Just one, you know just this one.”
“I know. This is a good story.”
“Yes. But how many times you say?”
“Why not I say that… Because..”
“ What is this ‘Because’?”
“Because… It is a good story.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Do you know that I am a booklover?”
“Yes, I know that.”
“Do you know that I am a book worm.”
“Of course, you are.”
“I love to see you knowing all this.”
“I love you because you love books”
“You are true that I love books. But…”
“But …what is this But?”
“But I don’t love onething…”
“Okay, you want to know this?”
“Yes, I want to know this.”
“Are you bold?”
“Yes why not?”
“Okay. Come with me.”
He is young. He is wise. He is beautiful. He is charming. She is young. She is wise. She is beautiful. She is charming. He is writing. He is a young writer. His stories win prizes. She is in love. She is in love with him. She wants to write. She wants to write like him. She wants to become a writer and she wants to win.
She wrote a story. It is a good story. She sent it for a prize. The story is good. So It won the prize. It is applauded as the good story.
How a first story is so good and how it got a prestigious prize? Everybody is in surprise. Everybody is in wonder. It is natural. She thought, so should be “he” too!
She thought that her uplift as a writer will make him her “husband” and she thought that he will be flat at her win as a writer and he will be very proud as her friend. Because he loves books very much and he is a fan of good writers. She is sure to win him as her dearest friend.
He took her to his flat. She does not know one thing about him. Wow! His library is full with the books from many languages. She knew first time that he knows French and he reads the original. There are many French books and magazines.
“Do you know French?” She asked him.
“Why not? My mother is a French woman.”
“So you know to read and write French?”
“Yes, Yes. I am writing in French also.”
“Wow…How many stories?”
“May be… more than a hundred.”
“I don’t know that you know French.”
“I don’t know that you read French.”
“Me? No… I can’t read French.”
“But I know, you read French.”
She is disturbed. She knows why. She got a French story from her close friend. She has a friend who knows French and reads French. Her friend said a good story she read. It is a French story she heard from her. It is good story… She thought then.
“Of course, I read French.” She has lied to know he is in love with French. It is to attract him.
“Do you read Beauregard?”
She is struck with unknown fear. It is the name she cannot forget. She knows this name.
“Sorry. I don’t know.”
“No, you do. You know this name.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I know I am damn sure.”
“But how is that?”
“It reminds me something. Yes, something.”
“Your story… good story.”
“Who is Beauregard?”
She knows that her prize winning story is by Beauregard. She knows that her story is just the carbon copy. Yet she questioned him.
He did not answer. She tried to escape from this doubt. She repeated her question.
“Who is Beauregard?”
“Do you want to know?”
“Yes” She answered boldly.
He took a magazine. It is getting published in English. It is about the young writers in French.
He opened a page. He handed it to her. She saw the photo of Beauregard. She read about him.
“Oh… You are a French writer also?”
“Of course… I am.”
“The good story… I wrote!” She whispered, “oh… It is your story’s carbon copy”