. She sighed again. Of course, Michael had a lot on his mind, and he was a minister, and he naturally ... She wagged her head as she thought about her husband, and about the past few months.Michael had gradually stopped showing any affection for her, or even any interest in her. He spent more and more time away from her, ministering to his "flock," visiting the sick, the infirm, the aged, preparing his sermons. And sex--forget about it. She gave out a sardonic little chuckle.From the first day of their marriage, Michael had been squeamish, finicky, prudish when it came to sex. It almost seemed as if he looked upon sex as debasing, distasteful, a painful duty to perform. And gradually he had shown, he had made it clear, that he wasn't interested in sex.When was the last time we did it? she asked herself. Two weeks ago? Again, she gave out a wry chuckle. And even then, it was ... She wagged her head as she thought about it. Michael had mounted her, had given her a dozen strokes, shot. It looked like just about everyone I knew was attending our big day, which was a long time coming. Sitting in the front row were my ninety-two year old father and eighty-nine year old mother. Both still had their wits about them. They had sold their large home to my son Mike years ago but still lived in a smaller home and still had servants helping them out. The wedding was starting. First coming down the aisle were the bridesmaids with the groomsmen, all family members. I have to say that I had nothing to do with setting up the wedding. All I was told was that I would be wearing a tux. Vicky took care of everything. First to come down the aisle was my daughter Sasha. Then, there was my son Mike and his wife, Lisa and her husband, followed by two of my grandchildren rolling out a white roll of cloth for the bride to walk on. I watched it all unfold in front of my eyes. I saw the flower girl as she threw down rose pedals, Vicky’s favorite. She was followed by the ring bearer. Then I.
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