WEEK 3 (Monologue): Living Here

Monologue

Hank, late 30s, sits on a chair at the dining room table. He holds a stack of mail in his hands.

Hank: All these letters. None you will ever read again, and each addressed to Mr. AND MRS. Wellborne. (opens one up and reads) “Dear Hank and Dora: The wedding was marvelous! I can’t believe you two went through all the trouble to find a white peacock! Shirly was stunned. Sam and I wouldn’t know what to do without friends like you. Cheers, Tara.” (closes the letter, opens another) “Dear Hank and Dora: Thank you for the space uniform. Donna and I will put it to great use! Dora, your husband has one hell of a sense of humor! Hank, you have the best wife a man could ask for. As they say, if a man walks beside a great wife he too will rise to greatness! Love you two! Cory.” Oh, there are hundreds more I could read to you, Dora. Just come back to me. Come back home! Our house (pause) - my house – waits for you to fill its walls with the scent of freshly baked banana bread, the ones full of nuts. The bed is lumpy on one side, hoping you’ll hide its shape. The stairs still creak as if expecting another pair of feet upon them. The exposed rectangles on the wall wish that your smile would be put back up, to conceal the blatantly empty space. And the front door is jammed, no longer able to open to smiling neighbors or the fresh scent of car exhaust. (walks to the freezer, opens) The ice has all melted, unable to retain its form. (closes door and returns to seat.)

Hank: Funny thing is, Cory warned me about all of this. Warned that you’d leave one day, get tired of the life we were living together. How come I never suspected it? We could talk about everything, couldn’t we? Your voice was so soft and quiet. I had to ask you to repeat yourself a few times to hear you, but I wouldn’t mind it. It would silence the neighbors’ dogs barking to the moonlight, it would silence the car alarms that ceased to break, it would even make the tiniest whisper stop to listen because everything you said had a powerful meaning behind it. Even if it was as simple as “I need to pee,” it had such fervor in its meaning! But the most meaningful words were those you repeated every night at midnight, “I love you,” that struck me the hardest. (sighs) Now with you gone, all I hear is noise, thousands of voices, maybe even millions, talking all at once! (starts getting upset) Don’t try to explain yourself. If you wanted hell, I could have given it to you! So don’t tell me you quit. Don’t tell me it’s not worth it. I never gave up on us. (tries to calm down, stops his tears, breathes three times to settle) I want to know why you would leave me. Weren’t your smiles true? Weren’t they real? Every time you smiled I assumed you were filled with happiness. But happy people don’t end their lives. People who love you don’t take their love away. Was it something I did? Is there a way to apologize for it? Can you ever forgive me for whatever I did that harmed you? (starts crying again) Dammit! Tell me what to do. A whisper, a sign, anything.

(knock at the door)

Hank: (trying to compose himself, then gets up and goes to the cabinet door. Opens it once, closes it, opens it again and speaks into it) No one is home at the moment. Can I take a message?


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A later scene.


Hank: I remember that day more vividly than this present moment. We had just returned from a quiet stroll to the pet store on Fifth and Main. She found a dog she thought would best fit the house’s needs. We told this baby (gesturing to house) that it needed a companion since she and I would be away for a while, on a trip for a couple of months to Cochiti Canyon, New Mexico. A spiritual relic, really. Surrounded by red rock, blue sky, and the comfort of the land pulling us in with its majestic beauty. A Native American promised it’d get us back to our roots. (opens a cabinet, then closes it.) These doors haven’t opened for anybody since she left. You’re the first to arrive, the first to give a damn.

Karen: What are you looking for?

Hank: A right. A reason. Why are you here, Karen?

Karen: I –

Hank: Are you here because you feel obligated to be here? You were never close to Dora when she was living here, and now that she’s out you choose to come by.

Karen: You know our past, Hank. You know why I’m here now. Maybe now we can try to work it out? Start anew?

Hank: Karen… you don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say those words. But under these circumstances, I don’t know if I can accept it.

Beat.

Karen heads for the door.

Karen: Well, my offer still stands. I know she left you, but I never will. Not ever again.

Karen grabs the knob on the door. Hank takes her hand away from it and draws her in, kissing her.

End scene.