(Sue talks to her boyfriend about how she escaped the violence in their house by retreating into fantasy.)

I’m sorry to tell you, Joey, but I happen to meet a guy out there. A salesman. Named Gideon. He’s real successful. Sells bibles to every motel in America. He sees me at a diner. Sits down. Tells me how trapped he feels. Even though he’s out there. And free. And on his own. You see, Gid doesn’t believe in god. And the more he fills every drawer in every room in every motel he can find, the more he grits his teeth, doesn’t say what’s on his mind, and ignores what’s going on in — in here. (Taps chest.) Till he thinks he might just disappear. I put down my fork. Take his hand. “Gid. Honey. I understand.” And he puts his hands on my face. Like this. Like no one ever did. And the words, they — they pour out my mouth.

(She stops, momentarily overcome.)

We make love in the parking lot. In the front seat of his Rabbit. On a stack of bibles. Right hand spazzing. Foot pumping stick. Window fogging. Seat steaming. Till it’s raining in the car. Till the water rises and washes us down the street away to — to some other place. And it was ALL. SO. REAL.

(She comes out of her reverie and stares at Joey.)

Every night the same. Right side. Curled up. On the bed I bought. Staring out the window. Listening to car after car. Hoping you wouldn’t come home. I’ve been away, Joey. I’ve been away and cheated every way possible. Even — Even here.

(Taps head.)

Don’t be surprised I’m leaving now.

You are welcome to use
this monologue for auditions.

Request the Script  |  See More Monologues