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I loved John with all my heart and soul, but what we were doing could not in any way be perceived as a mother’s maternal love for her son. It was nothing more than pure lust on my part, and I imagined on his part too.“I know, Honey. I can’t either.” I admitted.“I need to know where this is going. I will not be able to stop wondering when you will come to my room or ask me to join you. I thought about this all day. We either need to stop completely right now, or you need to let me know exactly what you expect from me. I want you to be happy, but I can’t just be on call whenever you feel you need me, not after last night. I won’t be able to stay in this house if I have to be near you and always wonder if you will want to be with me like that again. I’m afraid to even kiss your cheek because of what I may do.”John was right. I manipulated and used him to fill that empty spot in my life with little regard for the consequences. How could I have been so naive as to have thought that I. In this aria, Marguerite is longing for Faust to appear. She goes through stages, panic, distress, but returns to her pensive mood.’ We listened, and as the song neared the end, Elena spoke up. ‘Faust…didn’t need to sell his soul to the devil for Marguerite’s love…did he, Alphonse?’ ‘That’s the irony, yes.’ I loved that I could share this evening with Elena, both of us riding the melodies, intertwined in the chords and harmonies. I wished that the night might last forever, but sadly, Berlioz’s piece too came to a pensive close. The maestro stood and turned to face the audience, who was soon standing with applause. He bowed, and motioned the two singers to center stage, where they took their bows. The vocalist then turned to the maestro, and whispered something in his ear. The maestro smiled knowingly to the vocalist, and, discreetly, to me. He turned to the orchestra, who reached under their chairs to retrieve another book of music. A single French horn pierced the air with a.
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