Monologue

 

Monologue
Ruth Hetherington

 

(Tiffany is a twenty-six-year-old hairdresser who is about to be married. The conversation takes place in the hair salon talking to her regular clients.)

 

Yes lace, my mum’s favourite. She picked it. Mum has always loved lace. She said that was what she wanted, but her mum wouldn’t let her. My dress has long sleeves; mum says they are more classy. It’s got a v neck and it’s long with a short train. Mum insisted I had that – wants it all top show, you know. It is lovely though and suits me…. I think. I’m having cream roses to match the dress. That’s the one thing I overruled Mum on. ‘Not white, Mum, cream.’ It will all work as my bridesmaids are in a metallic brown, you know the colour of eye shadow you bought when you were fourteen, sounds odd but honestly at the venue it’ll look fantastic – match the gold room. The venue is magnificent – it’s a hotel. I fancied a small church wedding but Mum set her heart on The Grand Hotel. Do you know it? Oh yeah, everyone knows it. Her friend’s daughter got married and she was determined. ‘What’s good enough for Sisley is good enough for you!’

 

How’s the wedding going then? Ugh that’s all I hear. I wish everyone would stop keep going on about it. I mean it’s not that big of a deal, is it? Well it’s like it’s not even about me anymore. Nobody is interested in me and Dave anymore, just the day. I’m trying to think about life after and I just can’t seem to. It’s all confusing and I want to just think about it with Dave, but mum keeps bringing out lists of guests, flowers, food… You name it and she has a list. Honestly I can’t get anyone to talk about anything else, apart from Kelsie. Kelsie’s a good friend. She understands; she would do anything for me, she’s said so. She’s been my best friend since school. Crikey, the things we did. Oh I wish I was there again. It’s odd really, I couldn’t wait to leave the place and have some fun. Now I almost wish I was back at school. Life was easy then, being just with my friends.

 

So, Kelsie, what colour do you want your hair this time?

 

Do you remember when we were at primary school, when we used to do those weddings at playtime? The ones where it was planned on the day and the rings were made of gold paper. Those weddings were great, they didn’t mean anything… the rings could be torn off in an instance.

 

‘How are you then, Tiff?’ How am I? What does she want me to say? Oh I am fine thanks, you know – just broke my ex fiancé’s heart and tore my mum to pieces. How do I feel? I feel hollow, heartless, hurtful. Relieved though. It will be better in time for everyone. But I keep asking myself, did I really do that to someone? Will it be better? No one knows what really happened, just me and Kelsie. She always understands. We’ve had the pact since school. If we needed to get rid of a bloke, we knew how – you know. Get him off the other. Literally. You just do the deed, seduce him and then tell him it doesn’t mean anything, to forget it ever happened. So that’s what Kels did for me – ‘course everyone started gossiping and it all came out in the open and I was off the hook. Couldn’t possibly marry him now could I? Forget me, I said, forget the wedding, forget all we planned. Forget it.

 

Just… just please forget it.

 

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