Taking Silk

Taking Silk ( monologue )

// It is Ireland - winter 1902 //

IN HER SPARSELY FURNITURED PARLOUR AN OLD WOMAN SITTING UPRIGHT ON A
WOODEN CHAIR . MUSES ;

It's certainly not silk Shamus .

No , I know silk and this is not silk , feel

how lifeless it is . . . If this were real silk it'd be moulding itself
over my outstretched palm , all soft and senuous like but this strange
stuff . .

This is just lying flat , a dead thing.

Mind you it looks silky enough , glistening smooth , but silk it is
not.

No Siree . . . If anybody knows silk -- I should .

Reams of it I had on my Wedding Day .

Reams of it . Long lingering folds , clinging cool , warm , sliding ,
whispering against my trembling legs.

My youthful bodice wrapped tightly ,
breathing quietly , holding me in , easing me out , enfolding my
nervousness.

Aye , and none of your foreign Chinese
rubbish but the very best Irish silk from
the very best costumier in O'Connell
street and not a whimper about the cost
from poor father.

Three fittings it took to get it just-so .
No word of complaint from the patient
seamstress -- delicately letting it out
three times , no never a word , just a
knowing smile and another handful of
pins .

" Must have you looking your prettiest on your big day dearie " and
another handful of pins -- a spilled tuck here , a teasing dart there
.

" Is that the ring dearie ? Lovely , such a cluster of little diamonds
, emptied his wallet that day eh ? "

I didn't tell her that you'd bought it
second-hand from Hookie Hymies'
Pawnshop .

It's the thought that counts .

I posted her a tiny primrose laced box
with a crumbling square of wedding-cake to sleep upon .

"That's daft " You said . " It'll attract rats "

* * *

THE OLD WOMAN STIRS , DRAWING HER CHAIR NEARER THE WINDOW TO CATCH THE
DYING RAYS OF THE WINTER SUN .

* * *

Oh yes , there were rats Shamus but not all of them had four legs
.

Rats could be poisoned . Powdered glass sprinkled over a spoonful of
spuds and they skulked away to stink up the sewers .
They got what they deserved .

I have to cofess Shamus , there were times when I looked down at your
whisky slobbered snoring mouth that I was sore tempted to salt your
spuds the same .

A burst liver I'd have told them , had they asked , but I doubt that
anybody would've asked .

Many times I turned a blind eye for the sake of harmony , forgave you
for all your selfish acts -- but God only knows Shamus that try as I
might I can't ever forgive you for what you did with my gown.

My Bridal Gown . . . my bright billowy Bridal Gown .
Willingly I accepted the brass curtain ring you squeezed on my maiden
finger .

I knew money was short -- I didn't marry you for money .
I married you Shamus because I loved you , that's why I married you ,
because I loved you. Never understood that did you ? In sixty long
years you never understood that , did you ?

But what you did Shamus . . . what you did Shamus . . . pawning my
beautiful dress .

" Darlin' " You said , remember ?

" Darlin' , you'll never need it again , we're married 'til death us do
part , I'm your man now and only yours , I promise"
That was the first promise you broke and the last time you called me
Darlin' and my dress , sold off to some other foolish girl I suppose .
Sold and far away and this is not silk Shamus .

See it doesn't return the candlelight , sort of takes the light into
itself . Unnatural . Silken threads would
glow .

Perhaps when they saw our shabby address on their fancy order-forms
they knew we couldn't afford the real thing , they must have felt sorry
for us , they've given us so much of this stuff .

A wee keepsake won't be missed eh ?

* * *
THE OLD WOMAN REACHES UNSTEADILY FOR A PAIR OF SCISSORS . SNIPPING OFF
A TRIANGULAR EDGE SHE CRUSHES THE MATERIAL .

* * *

It's this new fangled Health Service I blame . If old Doctor Harrison
had still been alive , matters would have been settled long ago.
His mustard poultices cured all our ailments but his yellowed poultices
didn't save our baby , did they Shamus ?

" Some things are not meant to be " You said .

" I'll buy you a wee kitten " You said .

Aye , a kitten to kill a rat !

If I'd had my silk dress I could have sewed a swaddling shroud , buried
our little girl decent . . . couldn't I Shamus ?

Not a solitary tear did you shed , plodding all the way to the cemetary
dry eyed , griping about getting your cheap wedding-suit dampened by
the summer shower .

Different matter when that floosie from Chester street passed away with
pneumonia . Cried like an orphan for days you did over that slut
.
Even that I forgave you.

Then the good Lord judged you -- gave you the sickness .

Visited that Sanatorium every day for months I did when you got the TB
.
You lying there with your pasty shrunken cheeks and spindly legs and
now look at the rosy bloom on your face .

They done you proud Shamus , they really have . You're healthier
looking now than the day you raised my fluttering veil , eagerly
crushing your coarse lips on mine . Sucking the very breath out of me
.

* * *

SLOWLY SHE EASES HERSELF FROM THE CHAIR , LEANS OVER THE COFFIN AND
UNLACES THE DEAD MANS' SHOES .

* * *

Where you're going , you won't be needing these . 'Til death us do part
.
You're nobodys' man now Shamus

Hookie Hymie will allow me a little something for such a fine pair of
brogues or perhaps he'll swop them for a ream of purest silk . That'll
be fair Shamus , won't it ?

* * *

THE SILENCE IS BROKEN BY THE WHEEZING OF A CLOCK. IT CHIMES THE QUARTER
HOUR . SQUINTING SHE TURNS TOWARDS IT .

* * *

My , my . . . How time flies , I hadn't realised how late it was
.

I'll have to get the dinner on .
Shamus insists upon having his dinner dead on the hour .

* * *

SETTLING HERSELF IN HER CHAIR , THE WIDOW CRADLES THE SHOES .
SOFTLY HUMMING A HALF FORGOTTEN SONG FROM HER YOUTH .

THE SPENT CANDLE CASTS ITS' LAST GROTESQUE SHADOWS OVER THE OPEN
COFFIN.
ONLY SPECTRES REMAIN .

END

A Rostov circa 2002

1040 words