My Word Against The World

Eleven hundred

I believe that lessons cost. They cost. That’s just one of the simpler aspects of doing business with the universe. You pay for lessons and you will never get out of paying for lessons and sometimes it costs money (and I’m always glad for the lessons that cost money because those are the easiest to pay for) and sometimes it costs in other ways. Recently, I’ve had two lessons, both similar in that they carried price tags in American dollars, both similarly themed.

Part One: Three Hundred and Three

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the emergency room because I was having chest pains.

Before I go any further, I’ll just say that everything is okay now, so don’t worry.)

Yes, I had the requisite “Maybe I’m making too much of this” response, followed by the inevitable: The emergency room? I don’t have insurance. But what made the decision for me was Scotty’s having died in February of a heart attack. I thought: He must have had a similar response, ignoring the symptoms until it was too late.

I wonder if he knew he was dying.

Poor my brother.

I went to the emergency room and had an EKG and a series of chest X-rays and today the bill came in the mail.

Part Two: Seven Hundred Eighty-Seven

I bought the tickets to Singapore, and almost immediately regretted doing so.

Part of that regret is that, yes, the tickets were almost eight hundred dollars, and, yes, it’s a lot to pay to travel to a place that I wouldn’t necessarily have chosen on my own. Part of that regret is the fact that the plan was to meet a married man there.

(“was”)

After buying the tickets, I thought about how I’d feel if I were married and found out that my husband was going on a trip to meet another woman.

If I were married and found this out, I would not hesitate to leave him, get out of the marriage. But leaving is not a feeling. How would I feel?

I wouldn’t feel angry. I think a lof of women would feel angry, but I don’t think I would be. I know I would feel hurt. I’d feel shocked, hurt, betrayed, and that feeling would not be toward my husband only but toward the world. I would feel the kind of hurt that shakes more than one’s faith in a single relationship. I would be shocked that the world could offer this betrayal to me. It would affect my relationship to everyone and everything else.

I’ve weathered this kind of shock. I’ve been through it. I’ve felt this kind of betrayal. I’ve been hurt like this. A lot of women have.

I’ll admit that I tend to have somewhat ridiculously high standards when it comes to relationships. For some reason, I expect people to act honorably, with some integrity. I expect honesty and loyalty from others.

Of course, I’m not so naive as to believe that this kind of behavior is out of the ordinary, nor am I so delusional as to believe myself capable of sustaining this code of behavior indefinitely. I make mistakes, and others make mistakes, and so long as they are just that--mistakes--I think it’s fine. It’s when it’s intentional that it matters.

Ultimately, the point is that I’m not going to Singapore. I’m not going to Singapore, but I do have to travel. Why? Sadly, the tickets can’t be refunded. They can’t be refunded, but they can be changed. So I’ve started to email friends to find another destination. I have to and do want to travel, and the money’s already been spent. So I’m going. I just don’t know where yet.