We interact as an engaged couple, and eventually, inexorably and impulsively, we canter to our wedding ceremony in May of 1974.
She joins the Lamb’s Players. As performers in a nonprofit theater company, we are what people call starving artists, and we are dirt poor. Our apartment has a few chairs, an old beat-up coffee table and a TV with no working picture-tube, so all you get is sound. A blank TV makes no difference to me but; it does to Mary.
From day one, I sit on the floor in front of the scratched up coffee table we bought at a garage sale, listening to some old TV movie, while over and over dealing out poker hand after poker hand. My actions never register with Mary; my cards are invisible to her because she thinks my card play is nothing more than passive tomfoolery.