Carol: My Dearest

Monologue in the persona of a women who has been domestically abused.

]Act 1, Interlude (Carols monologue)

A man (the husband) wearing a black suit is seated in a green plush arm chair holding a glass of whisky, positioned as if he is watching something. Behind him is a huge AV screen which is creating a silhouette of him when illuminated.

The screen turns on. Carol reads from a piece of paper her final words to her husband.

Carol: On my wedding day, my mum told me the first seven years of marriage are the hardest (pause) after that it’s easy.

I married you, my (pause) lover three years ago.

I didn’t think it would be this hard dearest.

After the first month, I began to smear the numbing cream under my left eye.

she goes to touch the bruise on her face.

“Who’s Sorry Now?” by Bonnie Francis 1985 starts to play on repeat.

(cheerfully sarcastic) ahaha, Nothing, a little bit of Loreal foundation can’t cover up. After all, It’s not my lover’s fault that I’m so clumsy.

I didn’t think watching you scream at me from the top of the stairs would be constant. I thought at first you were just stressed. That it was just a phase. I imagined you, my lover, would kiss me on the cheek before you would leave for work, not the sting of a sharp slap.

(happy and proud) Yesterday you sent me a rose stem thick with thorns without the petals, they would have died anyway you sneered. That is what my life has become, (pause) a rose that has all the beauty on the top and then underneath the ugly, sharp, sincere truth. But I do wonder when those petals will die.

Last night I cooked your favourite my dearest, a pasta dish (pause) Spaghetti Bolognese. The kitchen smelt of mouth-watering Italian spice swirled with an alcoholic red shiraz. I was sure you, my lover, would be happy. After all, it was our third wedding anniversary.

(happy)

I wore my little white dress; a dangerous endeavour, every house wife knows the risk of a spillage when playing with the red juices of wine and bolognaise. (pause) Every possibility to ruin the pure white lace. But gosh did I look like I was a movie star, like Marilyn Monroe with white powdered cheeks, long painted lashes and cherry red lips.

(Pause)

I poured myself a glass and waited for you, my dear one, to come home. By 9:00pm I placed the meal in the oven to stay warm, away from the cold chill. By 11:50pm I placed the meal in the fridge. That is when I heard you, my dear, the familiar trumpet of the door’s loud slam. At last my gentle lover was home.

(overly happy) Your breath smelt like a devil’s rectal explosion, laced with the burning acid of whiskey. It curdled the air. But yet my dear, I welcomed you home with open arms.

(Pause)

That was my mistake. (pause) It would be my last.

(Pause)

By 11:56pm, you took a fist of my hair and threw me to the ground.

At 11:57pm, I tasted the familiar metallic syrup in my mouth. My cherry red lipstick streaked as you, my lover, kicked in my stomach.

(Pause)

At 11:58pm, your new art work of purple and blue emerged from my skin. My dearest you were always such an abstract artist.

By 11:59 pm the dog was quiet, it gave up howling.

And finally, by the stroke of midnight I knew this fairy tale did not have a happily ever after. My pure white dress was tattered and filled with red stains, after I had been so careful. My mascara was smeared from my cheeks to my chin. And I thank God that I blacked out.

(Happy)

My dear prince.

My dear lover.

My dear husband.

I will no longer be beaten or harassed by you. I have loved you faithfully for a painful three years. I’m sorry my dear, I am not strong enough to finish the next four.

I deserve a kiss before my lover leaves for work.

I deserve a life-long lasting rose, one that will bloom through the coldest of storms with every single petal still attached.

I deserve to have the perfect dinner, like the Lady and the Tramp.

I deserve my Prince Charming and the perfect happy ending.

I have packed my bags and signed the divorce papers. I am taking my German Shepherd as you are not a man therefore, my dog is not your best friend. I am selling my ring to go abroad. I will study my dream with the same intensity your sickly eyes stared me down as you watch me turn black and blue.

Now all that you will ever see of me will be my red cherry lips smiling in our wedding photo through the photo frame I smashed.

Music stops playing.

So my dear once lover, I will not kiss you goodbye and I promise you that when I walk out that door I will not cry.

Screen goes black.