The Greatest Mind I Ever Knew

Chapter 12: Give Me Everything

For the next two weeks everything between Lotan and me was perfect. He treated me like a princess for every second we spent together, and during those awful times when we had to be apart, he sent me countless, beautiful, long, romantic messages, describing how much he loved me and couldn't believe I really existed and wished he'd left France sooner to come and find me. We spent many late nights on the phone together, flirting, making promises to each other and exchanging 'I love you's.
               He came over for dinner with my parents and Leonardo a few more times. Every time he wooed them all with his musical abilities, charming manner and bewitching French accent. The ice seemed to officially break between him and Dad; in fact, my old man came to enjoy Lotan's company as much as I did! Although they were so different in character, Dad could have a more sensitive side when he wanted to, and when Lotan found out he liked to draw and paint like me the three of us found no end of artistic discussions to have!
               Mum absolutely fell in love with him. Flat out, brazenly, she told me one night, 'Olivia, I am in love with that man. If you don't marry him someday I'll dump your father and do it myself!'
               Both Dad and I hadn't really been sure to what extent she was joking, so I just laughed and he said, 'Ruth, if you ever dump me you'd have to talk me down off a hospital rooftop! Oh, amore mio, don't ever leave me!' He fell mockingly onto his knees then, grabbing at Mum's legs, fake crying and nipping her thighs. She yelped and shoved him off.
'You ridiculous man!' she laughed. 'Get up, big guy.'
               Dad stood up, winked and kissed her. A few months ago I would have called them gross and left the room, but now I stayed, smiling to myself.
'Please, God,' I remember thinking, 'please let me and Lotan still be this in love when we're fifty.'

But with all the excitement of Lotan's and my budding relationship, and the blessing of my parents, and the relief of everyone getting along so well, I managed to forget almost entirely about Lotan's sleep troubles. He'd swept me up so easily, and presented himself so enthusiastically, so eagerly, so normally to me, that it was easy to forget he rarely slept for more than an hour or two a night and when the sleep did come, it wasn't peaceful. I completely lost sight of the state of his mental health, believing him to be as carefree and happy as I was. So, when Valentine's Day came around and Lotan and I were finally permitted a second sleepover, it came as a surprise to me that he was still struggling.

We'd both been so excited to spend another night together - one where we weren't drunk, too. I couldn't wait to wake up beside my boyfriend without a hangover that made me feel nauseous, so I could roll over, smile at the sight of his sleeping face, kiss his lips, whisper 'Good morning, handsome' and make him breakfast.
                So for the two weeks leading up to Valentine's Day, I begged my dad every day to let me stay over with Lotan for the night, and Mum nagged at him too until he finally agreed. After all, the 14th of February was a celebration of love, so he could hardly forbid me and Lotan to spend it together! (But where I thought he'd been showing me a measure of trust, I later realised that Leo had boxing that night, so Dad had obviously just wanted the house empty to spend a romantic evening alone with Mum.)

My wonderful boyfriend made the evening even more special by cooking me a beautiful French dinner, complete with an expensive bottle of Château Duhart-Milon wine, and crème brûlée for dessert. While I was eating it he suddenly presented me with a silver necklace too! Its pendant was a ruby, heart shaped, similar to one my dad had bought for Mum when she was only a few years older than me! It meant so much to me that I kissed Lotan, nearly cried, and thanked him over and over and over. I'd always envied Mum's necklace as a child, and now I had one of my own. It was beautiful, and so intricately crafted that I asked Lotan to put it on me and wished to never take it off again. - Unfortunately, ballerinas aren't allowed to wear jewellery during their rehearsals or performances. That was a fun debate between me and Madame Favreau.
               After dessert I caressed the red jewel hanging around my neck for ages, while Lotan played a song on his piano which he'd written especially for me. My heart was full as I watched his hands play the beautiful tune. Again I marvelled at the length of his fingers, the width of his palms, excited to feel those fingertips on my skin later, but then I became far more engrossed in the sound of his music. It was stunning. His hands moved effortlessly around the keys, as if they were merely a part of the piano which required no thought. They were almost mechanical in their precision and yet, the passion with which he played made me feel all warm and mushy inside. I especially loved watching his fists ball tightly at the end, which he always did after a loud, dramatic, triumphant end to a song. It was as if he was saying, 'Hell yeah! I played it perfectly, exactly the way I had it in my mind!'
               He was so humble the rest of the time, I loved watching him be proud of himself for those few seconds.
               My Valentine's gift to Lotan was very lame in comparison: a watch. He still seemed to appreciate it, although the best part of the night was when I put on some red lingerie and his mouth actually dribbled at the sight! Then he chased me upstairs, both of us giggling loudly, and when he caught me he devoured me, as if my skin was honey and his sweet-tooth was insatiable.
              I probably fell asleep first. I was exhausted after working all day, and Lotan made me feel so comfortable and warm and safe that I often felt drowsy in his presence, whether it was the middle of the day or the middle of the night. Then, at some point, he drifted off too and we dreamed together for a while.
               But the twitching terrors began just as they had before. I'm a heavy sleeper so I didn't realise at first, but when I did finally wake up it was because Lotan's hands were shaking like autumn leaves in a strong wind against my skin, and his throat was making such loud, agonising groans that I instantly jumped up and flicked on his bedside lamp. He didn't react to the light. His eyes stayed creased shut, his Adam's apple continued to jump and down, and his head turned from side to side as if it couldn't get comfortable. Panicking, I rubbed my eyes, reminded myself to breathe, and slowly slid my hands onto his chest.
'Lotan.' I started off quietly. Then I stopped.
'What if it's wrong to wake him up? It didn't end well last time. What if night terrors are like sleepwalking, and you're not supposed to wake the person up? Oh, but, I can't watch this! He looks like he's in so much pain! I thought these fits had stopped!'
'Lotan.' I tried again, shaking his chest a little. It was sweating. 'Lotan! Wake up! You're having another nightmare, baby.'
               I took a deep breath when he still didn't awake. How could someone be so tortured by their own mind and not be able to escape it?
               Watching his pained face for a moment, I wondered how much worse this could get before he'd simply have to wake up. Did this always happen when he was alone? How did he cope afterwards? Would he continue to sleep through this fit and simply wake when it was finished, like nothing had ever happened? Would it ever finish on its own?
               On one hand I wanted to wait and find out, but my other hand continued shaking him anyway and I called one last time, 'Lotan! Wake up!'
               His eyes finally opened and he sat up like a shot again, his shoulder accidentally shoving into my chest. I quickly moved back a little, hoping the space might help. It didn't.
               Lotan clasped his head with both hands, groaning and cursing. He even gagged once. Then he swallowed some big gulps of air, and kept his neck bent until the pain subsided.
               'I'm here.' I whispered to him after a while, because his eyes were still closed and I honestly couldn't tell if he remembered I was staying over. I edged closer to him in the darkness and gently put my hand on his broad, beaded back. 'Lotan, are you okay?'
               His heavy eyes slowly opened at last. He turned his head to face me.
'No.' he rasped. His eyes were utterly bitter then, dangerously so, looking into me like the beady, dark eyes of a red kite before it swoops. I closed my mouth and moved away again.
'Can, can I do anything to help? I want to help you.'
               His eyes lightened a little, but stayed narrowed. Suddenly he grunted something and stood up. He put on some boxers, grabbed a t-shirt, then left the bedroom completely. I grabbed his dressing gown and threw it on before following him.
               'Hey!' I called out quietly, descending the stairs just as quickly as he had. 'Lotan! Don't walk off like this! Come and talk to me. Please. Tell me what you saw -'
'Go away, Olivia.' Lotan snapped at me, tugging the t-shirt over his head with trembling fingers. 'Don't see me like this, please. Go upstairs.'
'But I want to stay with you.'
               Lotan walked straight towards his piano, sat down on the stool, and opened the lid. Without a second's hesitation he started rattling off some messy, muddled waltz only Chopin could have written, his eyes shut tightly and head bowed low. I didn't know what to do. He was ignoring me, and playing so loudly that I couldn't have been heard over the piano even if I'd shouted - not to mention what the neighbours must have thought!
               For a few moments I watched Lotan play in the moonlit room, shifting from toe to toe. Eventually I couldn't stand being shut out any longer so I grabbed ahold of Lotan's hands and squeezed them tightly, mid-song. He instantly gasped and stared up at me as if I'd shot him.
'Olivia!'
'Lotan!' I countered. 'You can't do this in the middle of the night! It's not okay! You can't come down here when you should be sleeping. You need to be getting six hours of sleep at least, every night. And if you don't want to talk to me about it, then, then talk to a professional! You've had therapy before. You said it helped.'
               Lotan eyes softened, but stayed wide and shocked by my tone. I exhaled and sat down beside him. 'Sorry, Lotan. I'm just worried about you. That's all.'
'I don't want you to.' he muttered, slowly hanging his head in shame. 'I'm fine. I have this, these struggle, but I know how to er, er, deal with.' His weakened fingers slowly reached out and stroked the piano keys carefully. 'The piano helps me.'
'If it helped you, you'd be sleeping better already, Lotan.' I told him, sliding my fingers around his again before they could play another note. 'You need to talk to someone about your nightmares, my love, or, take some sort of medication, or just do something to help yourself. You can't live the rest of your life like this. It's not good for you.'
               My burdened boyfriend looked up at me again, his lips open and sighing. I let his hands slip away from mine so he could rub his eyes.
               After a silent moment he whispered,
'I-I want to be alone, Olivia. Please. Please understand.'
               That was certainly unexpected! I thought I was getting through to him! Surprised, I stared at him for ages until he glanced over at me, and returned his hands to their starting position on the piano. That's when I got cross.
'I don't understand you.' I said, standing up again. 'I'm your girlfriend, Lotan! I love you! I've cried with you and I've told you everything about myself and I've had sex with you! Why won't you open up to me about this? Why can't you talk to me?'
               Lotan's head drooped again, and his eyes slowly closed.
'I don't know how to making you understand.' he told me. 'Only music can, can, er, say how I feeling, at this times.'
'And words.' I said. 'Just talk to me, Lotan. Please.'
'No. Not all feelings we say with words, Olivia. This, this piano, this music, is my language. This is how I expressing myself. So listen, or go away.'
               In hindsight I can see that I definitely chose the wrong option.
'Fine.' I grumbled, sticking my chin up into the air and stepping away from Lotan's piano. 'Play this damn thing. Do whatever you want! Why should I matter to you any more than a bloody piece of wood!?'
               With that I turned on my heel and stomped back upstairs.
               If it hadn't been so late at night I probably would have gone home. It was horrible, just lying there on his bed for hours, taking deep breaths, listening to his mournful, dramatic tunes on the piano downstairs and wishing they'd stop any second.
'Why won't he even try to talk to me!?' I kept thinking. 'Why doesn't he want to open himself up to me? I want to understand him! I want to help him! I want to connect with him on a deep, emotional level. But he's not even trying.'