The Greatest Mind I Ever Knew

Chapter 22: More More More Musics

'I'm going to call Jonathan.' I told Lotan two days later. Here's why.

The night before I'd done something I really shouldn't have. Hindsight is a great thing, but desperation is powerful, so I decided on Lotan's behalf that the reign of his nightmare-riddled insomnia was over. Since our sleepy conversation about how to fix his problem the night before, nothing had changed - in fact I woke up the next morning alone again, to the sound of Lotan playing dramatic tunes on the piano as if we'd never spoken in the first place! So I took action.
               Lotan and I had a nice day together. It was a Sunday, so we spent a lazy day at home, never even changing out of our pyjamas. We ate too much snack food and drank lots of tea and watched pointless soap operas which probably rotted our brains, and made Lotan say things like, 'If he in love with this, er, lady, why he doesn't tell her? Why he's telling her sister instead? He knows the sister loves him! She is obvious!' and, 'So her son is returned, but she forgetted she has a son, because of the er, this, er, hit on her head? Surely is easy to prove! They should do a test together, and see they are mother and son! These people are very many idiots.'
               While Lotan got frustrated over the outrageous plots of Mum's favourite programmes, I reclined beside him on the sofa with smiling lips and Joshua lying on my chest. Every now and then Lotan tried to take him from me, but I always clung on and said, 'No, he's mine! I'm the one who had to get fat and rip my 'flower' open to bring him into this world - go make your own baby!' To which Lotan would reply that I was a cruel woman, and then he'd wait until I grew resigned to the sound of his beautiful, low, French voice again and steal him from me quickly.
               We had our meals together like the close-knit little family that we were, then we put Joshua to bed, and we spent some time downstairs, hoping the baby monitor stayed silent. Lotan serenaded me for a while with a nocturne he was writing about a night he spent under the stars when he was in the army. He'd chatted with his old buddies around a campfire in the Saudi Arabian desert until the morning. He told me he'd felt God there. I thought that was a bit fantastical, but then I felt God in the melody, so I started to believe maybe he really had! Lotan Dufont could truly capture any concept with those 88 small piano keys.
               As the peaceful evening went on, I began to crave affection from Lotan, but he seemed so engulfed by his own music that he didn't initiate it at all. He didn't even look at me in a remotely flirtatious way: when he did occasionally open his eyes to me, he seemed only serious. Focused. I couldn't be surprised: he was handsome, messy-haired and sexy in an effortless kind of way, and playing magical, skilful songs on a piano, while I was a flabby lump of exhaustion and hormones...
'Can I really blame him for not 'ooh la la'ing over me every night?'
               Soon 8pm rolled around, and I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, so I stood up from the sofa and cleared my throat. Lotan's song was fading out to a delicate finish. At the end of it he looked up at me expectantly. I smiled and said,
'That's really nice, baby. I like this song. But I'm ready to go to sleep now.'
'What! Is so early!' he whined, frowning a little. 'You are very tired?'
'Yeah. Aren't you?'
'No, dear lady! I want to making you feel very happy first, before sleeping.'
               My pulse quickened while I looked down at him. But Lotan wasn't on the same page as me at all that night. While I was beginning to fantasise about a nice, hot bubble bath with him, where he'd pull me onto his lap and kiss the back of my neck and shoulders and do all sorts of unseemly things to me under the water, he was thinking of much more stressful things. My excitement dulled when he drew a breath and said, 'We are not planned our wedding yet, my love, and, I think, maybe, you want to? I think this planning will make you happy, or, er, maybe not, if you don't want to marry me anymore.'
'What?' I asked him quickly, and sadly. 'What are you talking about, Lotan? Of course I still want to marry you!'
               He chewed his top lip.
'You are sure? Because my sleeping is still broken, Olivia. Is not fixed, yet. For this reason, maybe you not wanting to marry me.'
               My confused eyes widened as they stared down at my fiancé. His throat swallowed a lump.
               After a long time I still couldn't think what to say to this miserable man. How could he possibly think I'd refuse to become his wife because he had nightmares!? Sure, they bugged me, sure, I wanted them to go away, but there was no chance in hell I'd let them separate us again!
               Lotan looked down at his piano and shut his eyes. That was when I knew his mental health was really struggling. He hid it well a lot of the time, but this conversation, these doubts he had, these fears, showed me how much he really worried on the inside. So when I unfroze, I slowly perched on the edge of Lotan's piano stool beside him, took his hands in mine, and said quietly, 'My love, nothing will ever stop me from wanting to marry you. I love you so much. And, I know you love me too. So let's, just, love each other! Let's make it simple. I know you don't sleep well and I know you're trying. I'm not going to put any pressure on you anymore. I'm just going to love you, and support you, until this problem goes away.'
               Lotan's dark eyelashes twitched, then his lids opened, and he looked up at me with wet, pitiful eyes. I tutted and pulled his head into my chest. Stroking his hair, I finished, 'Please don't make me wait much longer, Lotan. I want to marry you soon.'
               He was quiet for a long time, but eventually he sniffed, swallowed, stroked me too and said,
'Okay. We get married very soon, dear Olivia.'