MAX, a woman in her forties, talks to her female lover, Raleigh, who is in a coma.
The nurse said I could have a couple of words with you. [...] We're having a bitch of a time here with all your worldly goods, such as they are. I'm probably going to sell my car and buy yours from the kids. They could use the money. And, besides, I like the way your car smells. As far as the taxes and bills and all the business shit, Nicky's got a good lawyer....except you did stuff the Sears bill between pages 104 and 105 of Tennessee Williams' collected plays, so God knows where the Dept. of Water and Power will show up. Now all of this is just in case. This does not mean you have to take it seriously. You can change your mind. I'll keep my crummy car. I'm only telling you these things so you won't be worried about details. But you can sit up and shock the hell out of everyone, as far as I'm concerned. This place could use a little slap in the face, you know. Or...I mean, if that's too hard, right now, just move your index finger. Curse. Whatever. All miracles accepted. Clap if you believe in miracles.
This is terrific. I could sit here all day and talk, repeat all my old stories and you can't even tell me to shut up. Except you aren't laughing and that's really what's kept me talking all these years.
(Pause)
Actually, I'd love to hear you say SHUT UP. Go on, go ahead. Just for old times sake. Give it to me good. C'mon. SHUT UP, Max. Huh? How about it...please. Please tell me to shut the f--k up!
(Pause)
God, you're beautiful. You're not supposed to be that beautiful. This is intensive care, remember?
One on One, the Best Women's Monologues for the Nineties
Applause Theatre Books, New York, 1993
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