Chapter 3
Otto visited the library for about a month after that, quietly hoping, longing to see her again. Sometimes, Norman would accompany him, to study together. Yesterday the two of them stayed out too late, getting distracted midway through their study session. When they got back to their dorm, he got half-changed into his pajamas before collapsing onto his bed. The next morning, he woke up to his arm being violently shaken. Otto’s eyes slowly opened to see a panicked-looking Norman leaning over him.
“Your first class is at seven, it’s six-fifty,” Norman stated.
Otto stumbled out of his chair, now fully awake, quietly wondering why his alarm didn’t go off. Once dressed, he checked the time. 6:55. He regretted his trip to the library. He thanked Norman for waking him up. Otto ran out of the building to his first class, barely holding onto his books. When he entered the classroom, he tried to be as quiet as possible, but the loudness of the old door made everyone in the class look at him as he entered and took the walk of shame to his seat. The professor continued his lecture, pretending that Otto hadn’t just interrupted. At the end of the class, the professor gave told him that he should be spending his nighttime sleeping instead of studying.
The day went as slowly as any other day, Otto wishing that he could fast forward through this part of his life instead of living through it again. When his classes finally ended for the day, he didn't go back to his dorm, instead going back to the library. This time he was going to study for his classes instead of reading senseless poetry he didn’t even like. When he got there, he made a b-line for the table furthest from the front to avoid being interrupted by the chilly air as the doors opened and closed.
Once situated in one of the mildly comfortable mahogany chairs that boxed the table, Otto started to sort out his class notes from most difficult to least. When done, he took out a second set of notebooks full of notes with neater handwriting and a pen. He started with his Physics notes, then Chemistry, then down to his English notes. He was there for hours, barely noticing the buzz of fellow students around him, and the fact that he was hungrier than he'd ever been before. He barely noticed the student that decided to sit across from him but paid them no mind, determined to finish his work.
After an indeterminate amount of time, the person across from him grabbed his left hand. Otto jerked his hand back, his head snapping up to see who had grabbed him, fully prepared to give them an earful, but all words left him when he saw who it was. It was her. It was Rosalie. She was more beautiful than he ever remembered.
“I have been trying to get your attention for a minute now.” She said, voice full of concern. “I’ve been watching you for the last three hours and you haven’t moved. I moved across from you an hour ago, hoping that you would do something, but no.”
“I needed to redo my notes from today and a bit from yesterday.” Otto stated meekly. She let out an exasperated sigh like she had already known him for years.
“When was the last time you ate?”
There was no clock in sight, so Otto just shrugged.
“Do you know what time it is now?” Otto hoped that she would know. His hunger was now hitting him and he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to eat something that night.
“It’s almost nine.”
Shit.
“Should probably get back to the dorm,” he balked under her rueful stare, “six hours is probably enough studying today.” Retaking notes took him a lot longer than he thought. He was thankful that it was a Friday, considering that he hadn’t gotten to the homework part of his work.
Rosalie snorted, a noise that was startling coming from one so pretty yet achingly familiar, “Yes, it probably isn't. Have you eaten anything at all whilst you've been here?” Otto shook his head, embarrassment flowing through him. “We are going to go eat.”
“We?” Otto did his best to hide his excitement with confusion.
“Yes.” Rosalie insisted. “We.”
“But I don’t even know your name.”
“Rosalie.”
“Otto.”
—
After a while, the two of them found a 24-hour diner that was roughly a twenty-minute walk from campus. The style of the diner looked like the late fifties or early sixties. Otto thought it looked very old, almost commenting on it, then remembered he was in the early seventies, so he remained silent. Neither of them spoke a word to the other until after they had ordered, Otto was too nervous to talk to Rosalie.
“I’ve seen you in the library before,” Rosalie commented before sipping her lemonade.
“Really?” Otto asked, confused. He doesn’t remember seeing her. “When?”
“Twice,” She answered. “Once a couple of months ago and yesterday. I saw you reading poetry that first time. I wanted to come talk to you, you were sitting with a friend, and I chickened out.”
“Got the courage?” He asked incredulously. “To talk to me?”
“When I first saw you, I thought you were cute, but I didn’t want to bother you, seeing that you were with your friend. I regretted not saying anything because I thought I would never see you again.” Rosalie explained. “Then I saw you yesterday, again in the poetry section. That’s when I decided that I had to talk to you, but I was too nervous. You are obviously smart enough to be here, and you read poetry. You’re like my dream guy.”
Rosalie blushed deeply like she didn’t mean to say that last part. Otto smiled at her. He missed her blush.
“Does this mean we’re on a date then?” Otto asked hopefully.
Before he got his answer, their food came, and Rosalie busied herself picking at her limp fries. This wasn’t the confident Rosalie that he knew, this was someone else. Someone less confident, less sure of herself. He knew that Rosalie never talked about her previous relationships, he had tried asking, but soon found out it was a sore subject.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Otto offered softly. “I apologize for being too forward.”
“No, no,” Rosalie quickly stated before swallowing her mouthful. “It’s just… my parents have set me up with this guy. He’s very clingy. When I came here, I thought we would separate. But he got accepted into Boston University, which is like, a fifteen-minute drive from here. His parents bought us a house between our campuses. I had to tell him I was out late for an all-girls study group so he wouldn’t tail me.”
She fell silent as if to realize what she had said. She looked as though she was about to apologize, but Otto didn’t give her a chance: “Don’t apologize, you don’t need to.”
“Well, I’ve just complained about my love life, what about yours?” She asked after a beat of awkward silence.
“There isn’t a lot to say.” Otto said. “One girl in highschool. She’s the reason I learned poetry. The ending was kind of messy, but we’re on good terms.”
They talked for a bit after that, Otto insisting on paying for Rosalie too when they were finished. They walked back to the library, the street next to which Rosalie parked her car.
“I hope to see you again, even if it is as just friends.” Otto said.
“Me too.” Rosalie agreed, smiling at Otto before getting into the driver's seat.
Otto watched her car disappear around the corner before walking towards his dorm. As he walked away, he thought over his time with Rosalie. He wondered why Rosalie had never told him about this guy she was dating. Clingy isn’t the most fun to date, but it doesn’t sound like someone you don’t talk about. It sounds like something that you would laugh over with your partner before casting pity on said person and whoever they have ended up with.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he was at his dorm until his hand was on the door handle. Otto quietly opened the door, in case Norman was asleep inside and tiptoed to his desk. He pulled out his spare notebook and a pen, moving close to the window for some light.
September 13, 1974,
I met Rosalie today. She sat across from me in the library. She asked when the last I ate was, and when I said I didn’t know, she took me to a 24-hour diner. I asked if it was a date, and she told me about her clingy boyfriend. He followed her here, went to a school close to her, and she has to lie to get away from him. I wonder why she doesn’t just break it off. She doesn’t seem as headstrong in that division as I expected. I don’t mean to sound like a jerk or anything, but why doesn’t she leave? Could he be holding something over her? Is that why she didn’t want to talk about him? I hope she can come to trust me enough to tell me about her life.
Signed,
Otto Octavius
He closed the book and walked it back over to his desk, tucking it back where it belonged. When he was done changing into his pajamas, he crawled into bed. Sleep didn’t come as easy that night. He was concerned for Rosalie, thinking about all of the possibilities of how that relationship ended. She never talked about it in her first life, so it must have been bad.
Otto woke up with a jolt, again not remembering when he fell asleep. He looked over to Norman’s bed, and what he saw wasn’t what he had expected. He expected to see Norman gone or at work at his desk, but what he saw was a stone-faced Norman sitting on his bed.
“Where were you last night?” Otto had never heard Norman use this tone of voice, at least not at this age.