Nobody's Interesting Life

On Thursday I took Madeleine to the opera. A friend working on Ariane et Barbe- bleue gave me the tickets. I have not seen many operas and this particular show did nothing to increase my appetite for the art form. I am always impressed with the beauty and ability of the voices, however, having studied the craft of acting, I find it difficult to ignore the lack of believability in the performances. Moreover, the set design of this show, though detailed and elaborate, was, for the most part, confusing. By intermission, Ariane had opened the forbidden seventh door, found the lost and presumed dead wives of her husband, and was banished with them to the dark, hidden regions of Bluebeard's castle. Madeleine and I followed the rest of the patrons to the foyer. " Je vais aux toilettes , " informed Madeleine. "I'm getting a drink," I said. "Want anything?" " Un coke ," she said. I loved the way she said " un coke " and she knew i...

Madeleine and I walked home that night without saying much. Something I said at dinner upset her, but I thought it might pass. She held it until we arrived at her flat. Once the door was shut, her jacket and boots off, she started. "I don't like when you say those things," she said in french. "What things?" I tried to indicate in my tone that I was not interested in the conversation. "Sleep with a Jew," she persisted. "That was a joke, obviously." "Yes. Yes, I know it was a joke. But how do you think it makes me feel, saying those things? How do you think it makes me look?" "I didn't want to express my opinion, that's all it was." "Since when do you not want to express your opinion?" "I don't know. Since this time." The answer did not satisfy her. She went into the bathroom and shut the door. I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed. I stared at the bathroom door. Something was b...