MvB (Part 3)

My wedding to Maury had been very elaborate.  I knew the message he was sending, and it wasn't one of love.  It was more along the lines of "hey, I'm 96 and I can still get a woman, suckers!" (although not in those exact words).  We both went into it completely guarded, with our own notions and without any altruistic love.  The ceremony with Beethoven was different.  

I loved him dearly.  

Never in my life had I felt so deeply for a person.  I even stopped noticing his outrageous habits. He would wake up in the middle of the night after tossing and turning for hours (keeping me up as well) and get out of bed to compose.  I loved his passion.  At times he was apologetic for disrupting me.  When his hands formed "I'm sorry", I knew he felt the same for me as I for him.  In our entire marriage, I never saw him apologize to another.  Not even once did he truly ask forgiveness, save from me.  I think he believed me a true equal, he treated me as his partner rather than as his servant (a common practice among his peers).  He loved my "spunk", that I would talk back.  I never called him by his first name, always calling him "Beethoven".  I could make him laugh easily and heartily and he I. 

He drifted to another world to write, though.  I could never reach him there, which was fine with me.  Eighteenth century Vienna intrigued me, allowing me to spend hours watching the people cook, eat, and interact.  I promised myself that I would tell no one of the future, since I might make a paradox.  I hid my iPod (I know it's cliche but I really can't live without it, even when married to the greatest composer of all time I still miss my Hanson) so it would remain a technology only within the 21st century.  I was concerned about Beethoven's digestion, so I made him drink only filtered water.  This seemed to soothe him.  

We spent our summers in the woods, only he and I.  It was a wonderful time.   I would take his long walks with him, and take them alone when he was busy sketching.   Beethoven was a proud man, he didn't want others to know he was losing his hearing.  So he kept his interactions with others to a minimum and talked through paper.  I tried to hide from his closest friends and students (who became friends) because I didn't want them asking too many questions. 

This was a blessed time, indeed!  Days in the woods, nights by the piano.  I sat next to him while he played me his newest creation.  He never watched his fingers, only my facial expression.  I could not look at him while his hands sang to me.  I could only close my eyes and drift into his mind so filled with sounds and beauty.  The music was so familiar and yet so different to hear when the composer's heart was beating next to mine.

After our fourth summer in nature, I discovered I was with child!