Too early for Opera

Sunday morning.
Jill and Paul had a hard time with the kids yesterday evening and were hoping to sleep in longer. The family came from Manchester and were expats in Germany due to Paul’s job as an engineering manager. The house they moved into, perhaps better described as a villa, was in the town of Grünwald, one of the richest areas south of Munich, consisting of six rooms with a large garden and swimming pool. Since it would be a four-year stay for the job the company paid for the entire move and schooling for their kids – an offer no one could refuse.

A year had passed since the move. The kids have adapted well to German culture and international school. Jill stayed home as a full-time housewife, cleaning and dusting three bedrooms, a guestroom, an office, living room and organizing a massive kitchen. But it wasn’t the house that was the problem; she had a harder time adapting to the new culture and language. Friends her age were hard to find and the kids only contributed to her frustrations. Charlene was thirteen and Jack was eleven; Both of them often fought like cats and dogs, and last night one could almost see the fur fly.

The morning seemed peaceful. In the master bedroom upstairs the sunlight shone through the curtains onto the bed next to Jill’s face accompanied by the soft sound of a bird singing near the window outside. The blissful moment came to a rude end with a crashing noise in Charlene’s bedroom nearby, as if some things had fallen off her trophy case.
“Hey! Get out of my room you creep!” yelled Charlene.
“Reading more gooey romance novels?” asked Jack with sarcasm.
“Piss off!”
Jill woke up frustrated with the memories of last night. Was it going to start all over again?
She felt too groggy to get out of bed to do something about it.
Kids
Teens
Why me, Lord?
Someone ran downstairs as fast as they could. She wanted to pull herself out of bed to see what the matter was, but couldn’t.
Maybe it will all go away.
Jack made it to the bottom of the stairs without being pursued by his crazy teenage sister. He went to the stereo shelf in the living room, pulled out a CD and placed it in the player.
It was Mozart’s Zauberflöte, (The Magic Flute) which they got last week when they saw the opera at the national theatre in Munich. He chose the scene on the second track where Prince Tamino was in danger from a giant snake and turned up the volume – loud. The whole house roared with string and wood instruments, changing tempo from Moderato to Allegro in crescendo, followed by the voice of a lyric tenor singing a libretto in poetic German.

“Zu Hilfe! Zu Hilfe! Sonst biiiin ich verloren…” (Help me! Help me! Or I am doomed!).

Looking upstairs he waited for his big sister to come out, which he knew would be about…right…now.
Out of her room came Charlene, still in her nightgown, looking angry.
Jack lip-synced the opera; he had no problems understanding the language. He opened his arms as if he was performing to a sole audience – his dumb big sister, as if he was on a stage and she was up in a balcony box.

“Der listigen Schlange zum Opfer erkoren.” (The cunning snake has chosen me as its victim).

A wicked smile shown on her face as she saw her little brother perform to her.
Two can play at this game, Charlene thought.
She ran into Jack’s bedroom and found a toy sword in his closet. Grabbing the sword she ran downstairs toward the opera-singing Jack.

“Ach reeeettet mich! Ach schütezt mich!” (Oh save me, oh rescue me).

Three ladies, attendants of the Queen of the Night, appear on the scene and kill the serpent with spears, saving Prince Tamino’s life. Charlene opened her mouth and lip-synced the high note singing,

“Stiiirb Unnngeheuer! Durch meine Maaaacht!” (Die you Monster! Through our power!).
Charlene drew the toy sword between Jack’s arm and chest. Jack played along and fell to the carpet.
She knelt down next to him and continued to lip-sync; this time her hands were raised high in an operatic pose.

“Triiiumph! Triiiumph! Sieee ist vollbracht. Die Hellldentat. Er ist befreut. Durch unsere armes Tapferkeit.” (Triumph! Triumph!It is finished! The heroic deed! He is saved. Through our feeble bravery).

Jill, their mother, came downstairs, also in her nightgown.
“Ah, what a noise! Turn this off, it’s Sunday morning!”

Charlene was still lip-synching the part where the women were admireing the young prince who had fainted.
“Ein holder Jüngling, sanft und schön.” (A lovely youth, gentle and fair).
She punched Jack in the shoulder and said, “But you’re not!” She got up and saw her mom, turning off the CD-player. The living room became shockingly quiet.

“Are you all crazy?” Jill said.
“It’s his fault Mum,” Charlene said, “he just comes in my room and invades my privacy.”
Jill looked down at her son, still on the floor. “Jack, get up.”
“I can’t. I’m a dead snake with a sword in my side,” he said, still playing dead on the carpet.
“Get up you dead snake!” Charlene said while she kicked him one time in his back.
“That’s enough Charlene,” Jill stopped her. “Jack, get up and go to your room.”
Jack arose from his beastly demise and took his sword with him back to his room.

“And you too Charlene, back to your room, I still want to sleep,” Jill said.
Charlene started to go upstairs when Jill noticed her nightgown. It looked expensive and provocative. With the morning sunlight shining through a window, directly on the stairs, Jill was able to see Charlene’s breasts and panties through the gown. For a thirteen year old girl she looked more like sixteen and fully developed in every way.
Where did she get a see-through gown?
“Did I buy you that nightgown Charlene?” her mother asked.
“No, I did last week when I went shopping with my friends,” Charlene stopped to answer.
Some thoughts rushed through Jill’s head. “When I get up again, I need to talk with you. You just can’t buy anything you want to,” she concluded and went upstairs as well.

As she saw both kids shutting the doors in their respective bedrooms, Jill went into the bathroom, for a moment she accidentally saw her thirty-seven year old face in the mirror – wrinkles, grey hair and all.
“Damn,” she whispered to herself in frustration, and went back to bed.
Paul had slept through the whole thing.