Day 1 - 1728 Words.

A movie adaptation of a great comic book hero once said that every story worth telling is about a girl. I don’t know if that’s true of every story, but I do know it’s true of mine. She wasn’t the girl from next door. Hell, she wasn’t even from the next state over. She was, however, the girl who sat next to me on the first day of my medieval history class my first day of college.

Her name is Elaine.

I don’t know which classroom it was. I don’t even remember which building. It was one of those huge lecture halls you find at a major research university, the kind that seat five hundred students. The people in the back are sleeping or doing the crossword puzzle in the school paper; the people in the middle are talking or playing solitaire on their laptops, and then there are the people like me and Elaine.

We sit in the front row.

I didn’t see her walk in the door. I was getting my notebook out and getting ready for class. One of the problems with being obsessive compulsive is that you have to have everything just so. It varies with each person, but part of my obsessiveness, or compulsiveness – I’ve never been clear on which is which, I’m just sure I’ve got both – is meticulous organization of school materials.

No, I didn’t notice her until she spoke.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Is anyone sitting here?”

I looked up.

I knew – at that very moment, without hesitation, without deliberation – that this was the woman with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. So, of course, I stuttered.

“N-no, no one is – I mean, um, you – I – no.”

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

My eyes must’ve doubled in width.

“Not at all.”

And it was as easy as that, three words and the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen was sitting beside me, all on my first day of my first year of the beginning of the rest of my life. Elaine had hair past her waist and glasses with tiny wire frames. She looked like a librarian, and that made her perfect.

“I’m Elaine,” she said, extending her hand for me to shake it.

I stared at her hand and gulped.

“I’m... M- um, my name is – it’s very nice to meet you. Miles, I’m... Miles.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Miles.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Have you heard anything about this professor?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” I didn’t really care about the class at this point anyway; for all that I’m an overachiever and meticulous about schoolwork and whatnot, the entrance into my life of perfection embodied by a woman had erased all other priorities. She will be mine, I thought to myself, channeling Wayne Campbell. Oh yes, she will be mine.

I fumbled for something to say. “So, what are you majoring in?”

“History,” she said. “I’m focusing on medieval. France, mostly.”

“Wow. That’s, um – you’re really... Isn’t it early to know your major so thoroughly?”

“I know what I like. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m majoring in astronomy.”

“Well, see. That’s pretty specific.”

“I guess I, uh, I know what I like, too.”

Yeah, I like you, I thought. I managed not to say it. Which was an achievement, really.

“Oh, look,” Elaine whispered, and pointed to the front of the class. The professor had gotten up and looked like he was beginning to lecture. Some friends of mine had told me that on the first day of class in college, the professor just gives you the syllabus and sends you home. Some friends of mine are liars. This professor felt the need to drone on for the full hour and fifteen minutes of class. I didn’t mind, though. When I got bored with medieval history, which happened rather quickly as it was all church history and no warfare in today’s lecture, I just watched Elaine. She was in her element. The professor would make a joke; everyone else in the class snored. Elaine giggled. Her nose wrinkled up when she giggled. It was the most adorable thing I had ever seen. She smiled a lot. She nodded whenever the professor said something she already knew. Less than an hour in her presence and I was one hundred percent smitten.

By the end of class I had told myself at least a hundred times, “You must ask this girl out. You must. Now.” The end of class came, and she started to put her things away. I turned to her.
“So, I, uh – I was wo- um. I thought maybe we could – I – it was really nice meeting you,” I managed to blurt out. I winced. That was not exactly the smooth move I’d imagined while ignoring the man standing at the front of the classroom blathering about the rise of the Carolingian dynasty.

“You too,” Elaine said. “Well. I guess I’ll see you Thursday.” And with that, she was gone.
This was Tuesday. Forty six and three quarter hours until I would see her again. It stretched before me like an interminable wasteland.

As soon as I got back to the dorm, I sat down at my computer and got online. I’d been playing this online game since right before I left for college, and I was just beginning to feel some camaraderie with the other players. So I went into the game chat and started talking about Elaine, because she was all I could think about. I rambled on at length about her beauty and grace and how smart she was. The other players were remarkably indulgent of me; no one fussed at me for being chatty, no one told me to take it to email. Which is good because if they’d told me to shut up at that precise moment I probably would’ve left in a self-righteous huff and never joined the game again.

Instead, a private chat window popped up from a player going by the name DarkProphetess. That was Cassandra, probably my best friend in the game. Cassandra was her real name. And she knew mine, too. That made us special, because a lot of people were really hesitant to share their real names with their online friends.

“So when’s the wedding?” she asked.

“Hardy har har,” I typed in response. “Very funny.”

“Seriously, though. Are you going to ask her out?”

“I tried today. It was kind of ridiculous. You should’ve been there.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

We went on back and forth like this for half an hour or so before Cassie said she had to go. She was egging me on, I was demurring. I felt pretty good about the whole thing, though; I trusted Cassie, and if she encouraged me to go for it it must be a thing worth doing and a thing of which I was capable. After all, she knew me better than the few friends I’d made at college. If I couldn’t turn to her for advice, who was there?

Wednesday was a blur, twenty four hours spent waiting for Thursday. On Thursday morning I was psyched. I was ready to go. Today I was going to ask Elaine out. Cassie had encouraged me, my friends online had told me to go for it, I’d even called my brother Adrian and asked him for advice. He told me to be myself. It didn’t seem like especially good advice, as the last time I’d tried that I looked like a bibbling idiot, but I thought I’d give it another shot. Adrian had always been successful with women, so he must be doing something right. Maybe I should try to be him.
No, I told myself. You are great. You are the man. You are going to amaze her with your suave demeanor. She will be in awe of you.

I sat in the same seat in the front of class. Elaine sat next to me just as before. “Hi,” she said. “Miles, right?”

“Hi.”

And then we were off – class had begun. Oops. Well, there was still after class.

“So, um,” I began once the professor was done. I think today he was talking about feudalism? It really didn’t interest me. I spent the whole class watching Elaine, again. “What do you – what are you doing now?”

“Oh, I have another class,” Elaine answered.

“You – oh, I – um, which one?”

“Medieval Latin.” She rolled her eyes. “I am studying France, so they make me take Latin. Crazy, huh?”

“Y- yeah, crazy,” I said. Anything to keep her talking to me. “Oh, well, um, okay. Because I thought... well, I just – “ Elaine checked her watch.

“Miles, I really like talking to you, but I have to go. My Latin class is all the way across campus. See you Tuesday?”

“Sure, Tuesday.”

“Great. See you then!”

I slumped down in my chair, deflated. Yes, I, Miles Spartin, was champion of the world. All women bowed before my prowess. I was charming and suave. And completely incapable of speaking coherently to the woman of my dreams.

The next few weeks passed in much the same fashion. I spent a lot of time thinking about Elaine. I came up with a million great ways to ask her out, and I put none of them into action. I kept asking her empty questions. What part of campus did she live on? What P. E. was she taking? Had she taken the required swim test yet? None of these got me any closer to my immediate goal, which was to get her out on a date.

Then it came time for the first of our two midterms. I don’t know why the professor insisted on calling them midterms, since they were obviously not in the middle of the term, as there were two of them. I guess “test” didn’t have the right amount of gravity.

I turned to Cassie for assistance. I shot off an email to her the week before the midterm.

“Can studying for a test constitute a date?” I asked.

“If there’s good food,” came the reply.

“Details, woman!” I tapped on the keys. “Should I ask her to a fancy restaurant? Is that too suspicious? That doesn’t look like studying.”

“Too complex for email. Call me. 206-555-1187.”