by Ella Carmen Greenhill
Setting: A bed.
Time: A cold February afternoon.
Character: HOLLY, late 40’s. Beautiful and tired.
(HOLLY sits. She wears a white dressing gown.)
“You look nice”!
“You look nice”?
What sort of rubbish last words are they? If they are my last words, which to be honest with you, I think is quite likely.
Now “I love you”
or “never forget me”
if I had allowed myself to be really soppy I could’ve said:
“I will always be with you… right here” like E.T, with a lift of my frail hand as I reached up to touch her cheek.
But no, I’ve just said something that no-one really cares about, a comment that leaves no lasting impression whatsoever.
(She is annoyed but mellows quickly.)
She does though. She does look nice.
They all do, they all make an effort when they visit. Put on a pretty dress or a smart shirt to show me…
To show me they’re ok?
That they can use the washing machine without me? I dunno.
She’s small…looks very small today.
I wanna hug her but I can’t so
I just put my hand out a bit and she holds it.
Her hands are cold and…
Is she shaking because she’s cold? Continue reading