.. and to make matters worse he went so far as to chastise her for suggesting they to do those nasty things, those things he felt only the devil himself could have conjured up in her mind. Since that night, twenty-one long years ago, they made love on the average of maybe once every other month and only because she begged him too. Her wedding night and the subsequent honeymoon had been a huge disappointment to her and the only good thing to come from their entire week-long trip to Orlando had been their daughter Elizabeth.Mary sighed and walked over to the sink and washed out her coffee cup, the set it down on the counter and looked out the window into the backyard and saw her daughter lying on a lounge chair. She was wearing a nice conservative two-piece swimsuit and appeared to be sleeping while Alan swam laps in the pool. Once again she admired Alan's physique and wondered what he would be like in bed ... then she shook her head and said, out loud, "What's wrong with you Mary? You. I turned my face slowly away and opened my eyes. Around the room lay remnants of my life, things that had meant something to me once, things that lay as dead and lifeless as I felt. My flute lay on the floor, sheet music scattered all around. The memories haunted me. Images of my playing, my total surrender to the power of the notes and the melody brought a fresh rush of tears to my eyes. I had spent many years practicing and perfecting the talent of musician. There was a freedom of expression that had caught me and pulled me in. So many thoughts and feelings were spelled out in little black dots with lines and squiggles. Sad that I was going to let it all disappear into nothingness. My books lay in the opposite corner, near the shattered glass of the wine bottle. Dozens of stacks of books…novels, short stories, reference books, journals. I had loved to read. The stories on pages that took me to far off places and filled my mind with dreams and fantasies had been as much a part of me.
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