Opposite me

Ondine never woke up by an alarm and she had always been that way. Due to a disease not of her choice, she had always been more of a child of the night. She had learned to find beauty and comfort in the darkness and now as a young woman of twenty-three, she embraced it.

When she was just a toddler, her parents felt safe enough to let her out in exposed sunlight bedecked with a silly sun hat and gobs of sunscreen, they discovered a horrible truth. At first it was all right, but after about a half hour of being outside running about playing with the neighborhood children, Ondine broke out in terrifying (and traumatizing) welts and sores, red and swollen. At first they thought it was perhaps just some freak accident, perhaps something in the grass too abrasive for their toddler's sensitive skin? The soil? Regardless, the incident did nothing for their conscience. It only made them more cautious and even more protective as they nursed their daughter's wounds for weeks, all the while feeling horribly guilty during the process.

With extreme caution, they allowed their daughter to have play dates with her friends inside at her house, where they could control and investigate various factors. Ondine's parents were delighted that she had no reaction to the neighborhood kid's hands or clothing, but still worried it was some type of severe allergy. She simply couldn't stay inside all of the time, could she?

As she grew, and her words and thoughts developed, Ondine’s cries and whimpers turned into somber complaints of her eyes hurting during the day and that she wanted to stay inside and play. This started to worry her parents.

Unsure of what to do but wanting only their daughter’s comfort and safety well within their power, they adapted to her requests. She remained inside for most of her days, and where it seemed sad, Ondine’s mother was able to be far more hands on with her. This allowed her to mature very quickly, as she sat in on her mother’s book and wine club every week and watched as her father paced in his office doing the monthly house budget and numbers.

A year and a half passed before Ondine had another incident and it forced them to take action and take her to a specialist. The family was on holiday at the beach, and they thought if it had been an outside allergy there were no flowers, grass, or soil at the beach so she could be fine. But this time the pain was so excruciating it made the little girl vomit and shake with tremors from terror as it opened old wounds and created new ones. After getting numerous expert's opinions and a hijacked holiday weekend, it was discovered that Ondine had inherited a rare blood disease hiding in a recessive gene that was incurable and something that she would always have. Oddly enough, she was allergic to the sun and its UV rays.

As she grew even older, her father became obsessed with finding an answer, a cure, anything that would allow his daughter to live a "normal" life. She was told that she would just have to be cautious and, what was the phrase, to cover up.

Being very mature ahead of her time, with good reason and with not much of a choice, upon finding out the news, Ondine took it with a grain of salt, which angered her father. He couldn't understand why she was being so flippant, this was her life!

"Don't worry Papa," the young girl said, kissing his hand with her tiny lips and a grin on her face. She had always known that she was different, and as it had just been told to her, she could do nothing about it.

Despite her father's attempts at keeping her safe and mainly at home most of her life, she had developed into a ravishing and fiercely independent young woman. She had never wanted her parents to take pity on her. She graduated from high school with flying colors, got accepted to a great university that was heavily oriented in social sciences and art on a full scholarship. When she was in her junior year of Uni she moved out of her parent's country home and into the city so she wouldn't have to commute as much to her classes. It was a hard adjustment for them at first but they were very respectful of her space and independence. Though they called often and only showed up after being invited.

She quickly developed a routine; she never liked to think of herself as being "disabled" or unable to do what she pleased. She spent most of the time she needed to study at home or at a cafe up the street from her loft, and if it was a particularly bright day, she would wear long sleeves, dark pants, boots, and a stylish floppy hat. When she returned home, she would try to nap before her night classes.

Some days she would leave early in her window tinted car just as the campus was open and spent all day there in the library. On those days, she had a different reason to go on campus. Unbeknownst to her father who checked up on her regularly a few days a week, one of her favorite professors whom she had developed a bit of a special relationship with, Mr. Tussier held a small study hall and did a bit of tutoring in-between his classes. She didn't need any help, but she did enjoy the studiousness of it all. In fact, she even offered to help tutor as well, anything to be able to spend more time with him.

She loved the way he spoke and the way she could imagine it vibrating in his chest from how deep his voice was and if she focused hard enough it was as if she could feel the vibrations swimming to her, too. She mainly came to the library to listen to him talk. She supposed she found him attractive as well, he was a handsome man, though no visible wedding ring. He was fairly tall, lean, lush brown hair, and he always spoke with purpose.

She enjoyed study hall, but her evening class with Mr. Tussier was by far her favorite. He would turn the lights out except for floor lining low lights and show projected presentations as he lectured. So all she focused on was his voice. She would sit in the front row, always asking questions to make him talk to her directly or asking him to explain something in further detail. He had taken a bit of a liking to Ondine, forever impressed and flattered by her interest to learn. She had become his prized pupil.

She remembered the first day she arrived in his class, excited to be attending such a great University, and having no idea that her reputation preceded her. Being for the most part homeschooled, one would expect Ondine to have grown up to be quiet and homely, but she was the polar opposite. Once she entered into high school, she wanted there to be more opportunity for graduates who were also home schooled, whether it be because they had a disability or for other reasons, just as graduates from both public and private schools had.

She wanted to break the stigma that homeschooled children were weird, crippled with anxiety, or anti-social, and proposed a dual enrollment program with the University she wanted to attend. It boomed into a rather large deal, and was the reason she was able to go to school on a full scholarship and afford a very expensive loft in the city by herself.

Of course, not everyone knew this, but if anyone had been paying attention, her name surely would stand out from being plastered over all of the student and professor job boards and the University newsletters and website.

Mr. Tussier found the whole program fascinating and actually volunteered to do the study halls because of it, and when he gazed down at his roster and his newest freshmen, there it was: Ondine Komarov. He had never seen a picture of her anywhere, as for personal reasons there hadn't been any posted. So the sea of faces before him helped not one bit, but at the end of his first lecture of the year when the pupils started to stand and file out, he called her name to see who stopped. She did, looked up and met his eyes with a gaze like a friend had called her, not her professor. She looked confident, and not at all like a freshman.

"Mr. Tussier," she answered in response as she met him at his desk.

"Yes, Miss Komarov, why are you in my class?" He asked, looking over the syllabus as if the answer would lie therein.

"Sir, forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but I am on the roster," she answered back, hiding a little smile.

"Yes, I know that. But I assumed you were some brilliant genius who was nearly finished with University already. I had no idea you were to be enrolled."

Ondine smirked, holding her bag to her shoulder. "I am a brilliant genius. I just like to be treated the same as everyone else," she answered simply, waving him goodbye. "Nice lecture, Dmitri."

She had called him by his first name, and by their close proximity in IQ's, it showed that she saw them as equals. It was then Mr. Tussier knew that he would have to fight the urge not to fall in love with her.

She never told anyone about her fondness of Mr. Tussier worried that some phallic misconception could arise and flutter around campus. She would never risk his job as a professor for her seemingly innocent crush on his voice box.

Now, unbeknownst to Ondine, there were some mutual feelings. She never noticed how Dmitri Tussier would perk up any time she asked an unexpected question, or how his eyes would light up just a bit when she would challenge him on a topic that would turn into a healthy adult debate. He had never met such a striking young woman and such a sharp, clever one as well. He knew for the sake of his job, and his sanity, that they could never be more than their study halls, dark classrooms, and clever debates.

A few times he had been slightly risky and wrote "Thank you" or a quote from a novel on her papers she would turn in, as well as some constructive criticism in his editing that would surely start up a conversation in study hall.

Thank you? What does he mean 'Thank you'? She remembered first seeing that on her paper after it was returned to her. Even as a bright girl, she didn't understand, but after a few more times, she realized that he was thanking her for being herself, for showing such promise and genuine interest. Now she must never tell anyone, this was her favorite secret.