Monologue
An Accident — Libby
Lydia Stryk
Libby: “She’s waking up. Her eyes flickered.” Someone said that. I heard them. They said they saw my eyes flicker. Well, I flinched. That’s what I did. I flinched. (She turns her eyes toward the door.)
Because YOU came too close! I didn’t flicker, okay? Let’s just get that straight.
I flinched. Poke something in someone’s eye. They flinch.
But you’re right. I’m awake. You’re perfectly right there.
(Looking around with her eyes)
I’m back. Back from. There.
Shadows. Softness. Echos. Someone asked me if I wanted to stay. I said no way. But I was trapped there, see? I was cramped there. I was trying to stretch and bend and find a room for myself. Find a way to stand up, lean forward, reach up. Get out. Hearing voices, noises. And then a door opened. And there was light. (A pause)
If I could just lift my hands everything would be all right. Everything in the world would be all right. (She studies her right hand.)
If I could just lift my right hand.
Maybe I can. I’ll just give it a try.
(She wills herself mentally. Nothing moves.) Well, maybe later.
I had a dream that a strange man was in my room. Oh, God. Oh, fuck.
Something terrible’s happened. Something very bad, it seems, has happened to me. I wonder what it was. I wonder what it was
I’m a little scared just now. A little scared. Where’s my foot? There it is. The other one is there. Hands attached to arms. Toes attached to feet. Feet to …? Where’s my body? It’s gone. There’s a big hole in the middle of me. Nothing’s there.
This isn’t nice. This isn’t very fun. Someone has to help me. Someone has to come.
God.
Well, well. So. Ain’t life a bitch. Well, well. So, so, so. You’ve got your mind. You know who you are. The name escapes me right now, but that’s not a problem. I know who I am. And I am in a hospital room. This is a hospital room. That’s clear. No doubt about that. There’s no one here right now. But somebody will come.
There was a man here. But he’s gone now. He was sitting over in that corner.
So. I don’t have a body, folks. I don’t have a body. The body’s lying on the bed, here, under my head. But I don’t have it, you understand? I, uh. I don’t have it. I don’t seem to. I can’t. Move. I can’t move it. I can’t move.
I can’t move. I can’t move.
It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It’ll be okay. It’ll be fine. No need to panic. Life throws some funny curves, doesn’t it?
If I could just move my toe. Wait! It moved. It moved. I moved my toe! I’m saved, I’m saved. I am. I am. I can wiggle my big toe. I can.
(Pause)
On my right foot …
That’s something. I’m going to hold on to that. That’s hopeful.
(She looks around with her eyes, taking in her surroundings. Her head and neck remian immobile. She spots the window.) I’ve got a view. Things are looking up! There’s a canal out there. And benches along it, look at that. There’s a sculpture. A bird of some kind. A big metal bird with metal wings. Or maybe it’s a plane! No, it’s Superman! And people. Would you look at that. Walking. Look at that. One leg, then the other, walking. That one’s running. Gallump, gallump. That one’s swaggering. (Imitating him) “Big man, look at me.” Lovers. Bumping into each other as they walk, like drunkards. Drunk on love. There’s a man sitting on a bench. He’s got his hands in his pockets. Sitting there. Probably gone crazy. Worn down by life. You’d have to be crazy to sit still. With your hands in your pockets. When you could be moving. Take your hands out of your pocket, man! Get up!
If I could sit up.
(Pause)
If I could just. Sit up. I would give everything. Everything in the world. Maybe I can.
(A pause, she tries.)
Well, maybe another day.
Don’t panic.
Libby.
(A smile alights her face.)
That’s my name.