Bitter Tears, Bitter Tears
Setting: Two chairs [Note: I hear this play done with Feena playing the lines with the emotions and actions as written, but I can also hear it done with Feena speaking the lines in an emotionless monotone. Would be interesting to see the differences in each.]
Roy: I didn't want to say it either, Feena, believe me. I love you. I do. It's just that...
Feena: Dismay. Dismay. Dismay.
R: Please don't be like that.
R: I understand, but, over time...
F: Recrimination, subtle insult.
R: That's not really true, and, to the extent that it is true, I apologized... many times.
F: Lingering anger.
R: Are you still mad?
F: Denial of obvious.
R: You are... you're still mad about last September.
F: Further denials and blatant projection.
R: Why would I be angry about that? I apologized. I screwed up. I know that. I've admitted it and apologized over and over again.
R: Then why did you say you forgived me if it wasn't enough? I did a bad thing, but I was honest about it. You tell me that you forgive me, but you bring it up all the time to remind me how hurt you were... or are.
F: Demonstrative accusation.
R: How can you say that! I owned up to it; I owned up to it out of my own guilt. You persist in this manipulative game of forgive-me, forgive-me-not.
F: More demonstrative accusation.
R: Listen, Feena. It isn't even about that.
F: Only tangentially-related demonstrative accusation.
R: That doesn't make any sense! What does that...
F: Almost entirely delusional and very frantic demonstrative accusation.
R: What... I don't even know what that means.
F: Pulling back from edge.
R: Besides, it's not about any of...
F: Coy recollection.
R: It's not about...
F: Bolder recollection, allusion to sexual proclivity.
R: Yes, of course, but, let me finish...
F: Recounting of passionate moment.
R: I'm not here to talk about that.
F: Hint of immediate sexual gratification.
R: No. No, Feena, I have to tell you why I...
F: More blatant sexual reference, slight desperation.
R: Don't say that; we both know it won't get at our real problem.
F: Desperate query.
R: I don't think this is something we can fix.
F: Desperate counterstatement.
R: Even if we could fix it...
F: Desperate encouragement.
R: Even if we could fix it, and I doubt we ever could, but even if we could, it wouldn't be what I want.
F: Desperate mumbling.
R: I need to leave, Feena. I can't stay with you. The first year was so nice, but...
F: Excessive agreement.
R: BUT... the last two have been a descent into malaise, argument, distrust, one wild allegation after another, and...
F: Wild allegation, wild allegation.
R: Why do you think last September happened in the first place?
F: Understated cynical barb.
F: Vicious personal attack.
R: Say what you will... the truth is I could have handled the distrust, the allegations, the angry arguments, because I thought you were worth it, but you never opened yourself up... to me.
F: Spurious claim.
R: That's all I wanted, and I told you that over and over: Please talk to me, tell me what you're thinking, but, no... nothing.
F: Rabid counter-accusation.
R: Feena, I wanted you to be open and honest. Your words often go one way, but your emotions go the other. Unfortunately for you, I could read you like a children's book. A children's book gets old very fast.
F: Attempted mean humor.
R: So, I need to go. We need to go. You're not a bad person. I loved you.
F: Disbelieving anguish.
R: I've tried to fix this thing... us... for a long time. It's time to let it go, Feena. (reaches out strokes her hair) I'm sorry, but it will be better for both of us. It will.
F: Bitter tears, bitter tears.
R: I'm... I'm sorry. (chokes up a little, falters a bit, then goes to her for one last awkward kiss on the cheek) I... I... have to go, now.
F: Bitter, bitter, bitter tears.
R: (leaving, turns around) Good-bye. (he's gone)
F: (looks up) Statement of honest relief. (walks off the other way, whistling)