This monologue deals with a womans pent up feelings and emotions.
REBECCA: So it just seems it's me and you. Now sit and be quiet while I let this food cool down. Just finish up on these shirts, I'll do the towels, then feed you and let it settle, and then finish the tea towels.
One job at a time, Becky, just focus.
(Rebecca finishes off two more shirts. The chorus of ‘All Alone On Christmas' by Darlene Love is on the CD player, when she stops speaking.)
Ok. Now let's just sort you out. So we have the food and the spoon and it's just you and me. Just a small portion, there we are. That's it chew it, move your mouth, open and close. That's it. Well done. It's easy isn't it? Yeah, course it is. Now you haven't got much to eat now, just a little more. Enough to fill you up, yeah? I don't want to over feed you; don't want you getting fat now. Not at your age, you can't do anything about it.
It's all up to us.....
(She sits and watches him eat)
Better than real stuff. If only that were true, you'd be the luckiest person in this room. Getting something that you deserve and at least enjoy.
Something better than all this.
Something special and deserving and satisfying.
My! You're hungry today, more so than last time.
All gone. All gone now. No more for you today. Don't look at me like that; I can only give you what I've been told.
Please don't look at me like that. We can't always have what we want in life, you'll soon learn that. I learnt soon enough, why shouldn't you learn now.
God, its not your fault is it. I'm sorry if I looked nasty, I just cant...
I'm not very good at all this, it's just because...well...
You know it was different before. Before all of this, before your dad and me. It was exciting and different. That's what I miss mainly, the differences, the change, it was always something new. And new normally meant exciting. Now don't get me wrong, I don't dislike your dad or hate him even. It's just that I feel differently about him, hah, how ironic. Now it's me with the differences. You don't get that do you, irony? I can't explain it. Ask your dad when you're older. But ironically I feel comfortable with your dad but not fulfilled, not like before.
Before, I could have something different every night.
Someone different every night.
A different dick each night of the week if I wanted.
And it felt good, no it felt great. I loved it.
One phone call and I could have half a football team if I wanted. Sounds sordid I know but it wasn't, for me it was normal, it was Eden. Like a paradise.
I don't like continuity, or similarity. You'll probably never understand or care to but they're fascinating. So many shapes and sizes and colours and textures and smells and tastes. All different but all mine. Now it's just James', only his, every night and every day, just the one. One, same size; one, same colour; one, same taste.
And now I have you and my husband. Every day I have you both, and I can't be me, I can't be the person I love to be. All because I'm no longer Rebecca the Lover or Rebecca the Slut, I'm now Rebecca the Mother, the Wife, the Organiser, Provider, Life Giver, Supporter. And I don't want those names.
I don't know what to do with them.
What they want to do with me.
And you can't help me, all you can do is stare up at me, blinking and dribbling, and causing these feelings. But I can't blame you can I? Because you're the innocent one, you're the one that was brought into this world by us, it's our choice not yours, but you choose it yourself didn't you. Why couldn't you have been one of the ones that never made it, got stuck on the edges, pushed aside by an infertile sperm, and left to die on the inside of my womb, waiting to be washed away into the plug hole, never heard of or remembered, nameless and harmless. Why?
I was innocent.
That night I was innocent.
The night that you fought your way into my body and set up home for nine months, like a hermit crab. Then you just discarded my warm, comfortable, secure shell for this dangerous, open casket waiting to be cared for by prepared and well equipped adults. Hoping that we will care for you, that we will provide for you. Just lying there and hoping.
Just like I had hoped.
I want to give you my heart this Christmas but I don't think I can. And I don't think I can give my heart to your dad. Because I don't think my heart is there to give. It's not mine to share anymore. And for that, and only for that
I am truly sorry.
‘Give me your heart for Christmas
Wrap it with joy and cheer
Let every beat seem to repeat
Our love will last each moment of the year.
Just give me your heart for Christmas
Only your love will do
And with each sigh
You know that I
Have given you my heart for Christmas too.
Open it wide for me.
And then in return
My love will burn
As bright as every candle on the tree
Give me your heart for Christmas.'
(Rebecca picks Joseph out of the cot and holding him awkwardly causing him to gurgle and move, takes him through to the kitchen. As she walks off we hear ‘Winter Wonderland' by Tony Bennett on the CD player. Rises to a crescendo and fades out, as lights fade, leaving a small Christmas tree with lights straining to be seen. As music disappears, lights go out.)
End of scene.