Art Ache Read Online Free

Through my mouth. As the breath drops in, I connect with my truth.
    ME
    Lonely.
    As soon as I say the word, it rings so true I could pick it up and answer it.
    MARJORY
    Lonely?
    ME
    Yes.
    I’m paranoid now. I think she’s going to tell me that emotion is somehow wrong.
    MARJORY
    What emotion is underneath that? You feel . . .
    I take another deep breath. Another truth pops up. I can barely bring myself to say it, but I know it’s authentic.
    ME
    Sad. I guess.
    MARJORY
    You guess?
    ME
    Sad.
    MARJORY
    Sad.
    She raises one eyebrow. If I were casting someone to play her in a play, I’d have to choose an ice blonde.
    MARJORY
    Elaborate on that.
    ME
    Disappointed. Sad. Lost. Alone. Lonely.
    MARJORY
    Sad.
    ME
    Yes. It’s silly I know because I’m married, I’m busy, I have a child . . . but I feel sad. Lonely.
    And then I go for broke. What the hell, just tell her how I really feel. What’s really going on. I think we refer to it as the verisimilitude of the character. Whatever. All this deep breathing has released some deep feelings. Or maybe it’s the essential oils. All I know is that I feel like shit and I tell worthy Marjory all about it.
    ME
    I was walking down the mall the other day on my way to the bank, and I just started crying. For no reason. In public. I don’t think anyone could tell. I was pretty discreet. The tears just fell down my face. I felt alone. I was in a crowd of strangers just going about their business and I was going about my business and I felt/
    MARJORY
    /Alone.
    ME
    Yes. Sad. Overwhelmed. Like there was no future. Nothing.
    MARJORY
    How does your husband feel about this?
    ME
    He works. He’s busy. He’s/
    MARJORY
    /You haven’t told him?
    ME
    No.
    MARJORY
    That’s a concern. Why haven’t you told him?
    ME
    Um . . .
    Oh God, no, I’m going to cry. Not now, not here. But why not here? Here is the perfect place. But it feels so weird, so odd, so new age, so . . . not here, Persephone, not . . .
    MARJORY
    Here.
    She pushes a box of tissues my way.
    ME
    He . . . he’s never home. And he probably wouldn’t care. I try to tell him what it’s like, but . . .
    MARJORY
    What what’s like?
    ME
    My life. Having a child, putting my career on hold, trying to work at my bread and butter job to make ends meet but . . . missing my true job. Him working all the time and expecting me to be . . .
    MARJORY
    What?
    ME
    A wife.
    MARJORY
    But you are a wife. You’re married.
    ME
    I’m like his mother.
    MARJORY
    You wanted to be that sort of wife?
    ME
    No. The exact opposite, but that’s what I’ve become. He’s not aware of it. He’d deny it if I said it, but he just wants a mother. His mother. A stay–at-home wife who looks after him, the house, the child . . . I do everything. I cook, I clean, I look after our son, I shop, I plan, I write Christmas cards. I even thought about making a quilt the other day.
    MARJORY
    You have a problem with that?
    ME
    Yes! I didn’t go to university so I could make quilts. This isn’t what it’s supposed to be like.
    MARJORY
    What is it supposed to be like? Tell me.
    I want to stand up and cross to the other side of the room. I want to put my hands on my hips and stamp my feet, point at her and launch into an Arthur Miller inspired monologue so she’ll understand. But I don’t.
    ME
    It’s supposed to be . . . fulfilling. Connected. Enjoyable at least.
    MARJORY
    What is? Explain the “it.”
    ME
    Being a member of Generation X. They told us we could have it all. The career, the husband, the baby, the home. We could smash that glass ceiling and fly high.
    MARJORY
    Who told you that?
    ME
    Um . . . I don’t know . . . everyone. The women who ran with the wolves, the ones who broke the glass ceiling, Naomi Wolf and the beauty mythbusters, Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Germaine Greer, you name it, Julia Gillard. Julie Bishop. Bronwyn Bishop. The Archbishop? I don’t know. Everyone.
    MARJORY
    And how do you think it should be? Do you think you can have it