No, this was so wrong, he does not like lillies. He loves sunflowers. He should not be here, all alone, surrounded by those cold flowers, when he had always longed for the warmth of the 'happy flowers' making him smile.
Deep desperation penetrated...
That's why he loved movies. The wonder of watching emotions and stories unfold. And observing Lisa's face was just like being wrapped up in the storyline of a classic silent flick. No words- yet the whole story playing right there on the character's face- in her eyes. The blue silver screen before him revealed it all. Mercury and nitroglycerine. It was thrilling- and intimidating as hell.
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For one horrible second he feared the final scene would consist of her pulling away in horror. The monster was close- the heroine would fall victim to the ravenous hunger of the villain any minute now. The behemoths driving him: his ravenous desire for love battling the lust for recognition. Talk about lust blinding the passion of the soul...Once he had sacrificed his human love, the other half of his soul to the altar of his music. Lisa, as much as he had adored having her as his wife, had started to be the source of anger, of confusion, of constant emotional turmoil. She had demanded the impossible: his time, his support, his attention. Why was it so difficult - no, impossible- for her to be contented with his love?
Wasn't that how all great romances ended? The blissful couple walked into the sunset, holding hands. The door of their happy home closed behind them- leaving the audience in the belief that from now on it would be nothing but perpetual paradise. How stupid and ignorant to see himself as the author, the main protagonist, and the audience in his own love story.
The door had closed behind them, alright. Someone in his head called, "Cut! It's a wrap!" Then what? Of course- he went back to his life as usual. How different could this thing called marriage be to life as he had always known it? Life on his own terms. The little woman could just be happy she had scored him: the greatest entertainer that ever lived. How fortunate was she- The daughter of one king, the wife of the other. Lucky Lisa. When her face and mood didn't match the prescribed happiness and good fortune he tuned it out to and ascribed it to 'female' issues. Her issues. Certainly not his problem.
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He felt lucky, too. He had won. She had finally left that loser, had dared to spite her mother, and had proven she wanted to commit. They got married. Finally, he could check that box. And redirect his energies where they needed to be. On his work. All was safe on the homefront.
