Category Archives: love

ROUGH TRANSLATION

[A U.S. born Latina wearing nurse’s scrubs and a name tag that reads, “Rosa Hernandez.”)

“People think being a nurse is pretty straight-forward… you just help whoever needs help.

But sometimes is not that simple.

Like once, when I had this patient, an old Mexican widower who seemed very distinguished despite being in the final stages of dementia… There wasn’t much we could do for him, just make him feel comfortable while he was with us.

When his condition worsened and he became violent, the only solution was to keep him sedated…

From that point on, he seemed to forget English and only spoke in Spanish. This was a big problem for his children because none of them spoke a lick of it…

So when one of them saw my name, they grabbed me and asked me to translate.

But despite all appearances, I barely speak Spanish and only half understand it.

They seemed so desperate though… I couldn’t refuse.

So I listened to the old man, caught a word here and there, like “agua” or “frío” and then I made up the rest.

When his time came, we reduced the sedatives so he could say goodbye to his children… Oh, and did he ever!

Again, I’m not that confident about my Spanish, but I could swear he was saying how angry he was at them, how lonely he had felt the last years of his life, how ignored…

He had especially harsh words for his older son, whom I’m pretty positive he called the disappointment of his life.

To be fair, it was hard to tell if he really meant what he was saying, or if it was the drugs and dementia talking.

He rambled on for a while until he passed.

His children immediately asked me what his last words meant… So I told them: “He wanted you to know he loved you very much.”

They were all very thankful… especially his older son.

And that’s why I say my job’s not that simple…

I’m not sure who I helped that day.”


Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016

A SLOW DANCE

[A 60-year-old man, bald but still attractive. He looks at peace with a content expression.]

“Susie and I were married for thirty years. We were happy, really happy.

Our best friends, the Olsons, were happily married too… that’s probably why we bonded so well.

Stuart was a nice guy, easy to talk to, good heart…

Lizzie, his wife, was… is beautiful, smart, full of life… Definitely something else.

We were so close we would go on vacation together, spend the weekends, sometimes we’d meet up after work for a drink.

Then, one day, Lizzie and I noticed my wife and her husband seemed to be getting even closer… I knew by the way Susie looked at Stuart; Lizzie saw how Stuart laughed at Susie’s jokes.

At first, we didn’t give it too much thought. After all, their personalities were very compatible, so it was only natural they got along so well.

In a way, Lizzie and I allowed the relationship to grow. We’d even encouraged them to just go together to the movies or to dinner when we weren’t up to it.

And yes, of course, we had our suspicions. Lizzie or I mentioned the possibility of them having an affair… and then we’d kid each other about our jealousy, our insecurities…

Then, not long ago, Lizzie called me… Stuart had confessed he was in love with Susie.

I asked my wife if she felt the same way about Stuart and she confirmed it. The following week they moved out and rented an apartment, ready to spend the rest of their days together.

Soon after, Lizzie and I did the same…

We thought they would never leave.”


Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016

THE BARRICADE

EXTENDED VERSION

[A man in his mid-forties. He wears a suit unbuttoned at the collar, without a tie. He appears stressed, even tormented. There are big bags under his eyes]

“My wife and I were trying to conceive for years.

When all the other options failed we resorted to adoption.

After months of waiting, we were assigned to a young couple not able to care for their unborn baby… a boy.

The adoption agency said we could take him home right after the delivery, that the parents preferred it that way.

And so the baby was born on a Sunday night… and we were driving him home from the hospital by Monday at dawn.

We were so excited… especially my wife.

I was happy too, of course… but I was still getting used to it… you know, to the idea that from one moment to the next I was a father, that I was supposed to have a connection with this baby….

I didn’t have it yet, but I was confident I’d get there…

Then, just a few weeks later, we found the baby unconscious in his crib; he was very weak, pale… we rushed him to the hospital and waited while they ran tests… they were the longest hours of my life, I swear…

Long story short… he had leukemia.

He had a fifty-fifty chance of making it… and, of course, we swore to fight along with him, to do everything we could to keep him alive…

But on the inside, I was grappling with this horrible dilemma…

Should I let my love for that baby grow inside me, even if he could very possibly die at any moment?  Or should I keep a safe distance, guarding myself against whatever might happen?
It was not really a dilemma… the truth is I knew I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t love that sick baby… I didn’t know how.

My wife, unlike me, put up no barriers; she just loved the baby with all her heart… And that made it even harder for me to pretend, to conceal the fact that I didn’t feel anything for him.

But no one noticed it… I was by his side at the hospital every single night, I insisted on a second mortgage to pay for his treatment… I cried whenever he was in pain… although it was probably more for myself…

At the end the baby, my son, made it… the illness receded, like a miracle, and he started to grow as a normal child

He’s now four. His name is Eric, after me.

I still can’t get myself to love him.”


Are you an actor or director interested in using this monologue? Contact us in ABOUT MONOLOGY!

 Copyright Abel Gonzalez 2016