No Strings

Chapter 44--Carmen

I wanted to see the opera Carmen. The idea of what I perceived as a whore of a woman capturing her men with sexual wiles, but not being able to choose which man she wanted to be with attracted me. The catchy tunes I'd heard in advertising time and again. Though I wanted to go into advertising and stop being stuck in administration, I didn't think I had a hope of doing it.

I'd been told that the pay cut was unacceptable. As long as I received twenty dollars an hour from the office, I couldn't take a five dollar pay cut. Even without a second car there was no way we could make rent if I took this pay cut. I had come to believe him.

I asked this after one of his sorries trying to take advantage of the situation, but he still put it off.

"I don't like opera."

"Then I can go alone." I didn't have any friends left to go with.

"Do you know how much tickets cost for that?" he asked.

I shook my head. I had no idea.

"It'll be a lot of money. It will be a few hundred. I don't think we could afford it."

But I chased after him for it. I began to hide some of the money that I was earning so that he wouldn't find it. I started my own bank account without letting him know. I felt guilty doing it, but I wanted to see that opera. I thought after I saved five hundred that I could go. It couldn't be all that expensive. It would take me a few months.

It was when I saved about three hundred dollars that I decided on a whim to check the Internet at work. I wanted to see how much they cost. I stared at the screen for a long time. They were fifteen dollars for the cheapest tickets. The best seats were two hundred seventy five dollars in some places they were more, but I didn't want to see it in the orchestra seating. I wanted to see it in the the middle seats. Those were one hundred dollars.

I could afford that. Without a car, that was about a twenty dollar bill that wasn't going towards gas a month. I had plenty of money to go. But perhaps he didn't know. I lulled myself that day into thinking something like that.

I'd found some CD's of the opera at the second hand store. I sang the songs as I walked home though I didn't understand a single word. I didn't care if people stared at me. The singing was superb. I wondered what it sounded like on a real stage with a real orchestra. I needed to know.

I opened the door to our apartment singing the song. I found him sitting on the couch. I took off my headphones and said, "I found out that it's only one hundred dollars for tickets."

"One hundred dollars is a lot," he said.

"The cheapest ones are fifteen dollars."

"That's still fifteen dollars wasted."

"I saved up the money."

"What money?" he asked.

"Does it matter? We can go. I can write them off on my taxes."

He scratched his head and then neck. His lips tensed.

"It's still money that we don't have for rent."

"Don't worry, I calculated and we should have enough money."

"Whose going to pay for the tissues, the toilet paper, the food that comes into this house? Why is it always me?"

"I pay too," I said. I was getting ready for one of his fits.

"You are not going. We can't afford it."

"Are the household expenses that bad?"

The apartment was small. One bedroom. I found myself giving him the majority of my pay check. But his complaints were the same. I didn't pay enough. He was using his entire paycheck to try to make up for my deficiencies.

"Yes, they are. Be realistic here. How are we going to pay one hundred let alone two hundred dollars to go to see some opera?"

Our bill to go to the French restaurant was higher after he'd insisted on the best wine in the house. But I said nothing. There was no reason to try to appeal to him. I had no option, but to go along. I dropped the headphones. They dragged behind me as I went into the bedroom.

If he knew I was hiding three hundred dollars he would be mad. Perhaps I should give him that money. I'd been saving it one dollar at a time. There were always tickets for Carmen. I wanted to have some fun. I could see it with the fifteen dollar tickets too. I didn't have to pay the one hundred dollars.

Lying down on the bed, I stared at the ceiling. I wondered how I could see the opera without him. I felt the guilt rise up in me again. But we could make it if I insisted that we didn't have to eat out. I was fine with eating lower grade food. Sure my cooking wasn't that good, but I wasn't a total dunce. I could make grilled cheese sandwiches and still microwave the occasional thing.

For some reason I couldn't let go. I didn't know that this would take away my only solace left in the world.