31 Plays in 31 Days, #15 - "Gutted"

[breakinglight11]

This one I'm not quite sure about. It's another illustration of an important moment in the Hawking marriage. It's something that I'm pretty sure happened in one form of another, but finding the right way to depict it was tricky. Their marriage had its screaming fiery period and it had its icy withdrawn period, but it consistently never had them really being honest with each other about their problems. That can make it really hard to decide what they say— like, maybe they wouldn't say anything at all? But if this is the one moment where something on this subject busted out in twenty years, they've got to say something. But what are the right words for them to use? What would they actually say? This is a particularly low moment, where I have a bit more leeway for them to be more emotionally extreme than usual, but I want it to feel true to the nature of the characters.

Content note for recent stillbirth.

Day #15 - “Gutted”
From Mrs. Hawking
By Phoebe Roberts

REGINALD HAWKING, a decorated soldier, mid thirties
VICTORIA HAWKING, his wife, who recently suffered a stillbirth, mid twenties

London, England, December 1864
~~~

(VICTORIA sits alone in the parlor in a dressing gown. She stares sullenly, holds her body gingerly. Enter REGINALD, his whole manner subdued. She doesn’t look at him.)

REGINALD: That was the man from Hennessy’s. The stone’s been cut. They wanted to know what to put for the engraving. I gave him the name. Must have got used to it, I suppose. Do you think that’s foolish?

VICTORIA: I hardly think it matters now.

REGINALD: I suppose not. Still, I gave it to them. Gabriel Matthew.

VICTORIA: Matthew?

REGINALD: Yes.

(Pause.)

REGINALD: We’d settled on— had you forgotten?

VICTORIA: I can hardly think straight, Reginald.

REGINALD: Of course. I’m sorry.

(Pause.)

REGINALD: You’re out of bed.

VICTORIA: I can’t lie there anymore.

REGINALD: How are you feeling?

VICTORIA: How do you think?

REGINALD: Is it very bad?

VICTORIA: For heaven’s sake. I feel as though I’ve been split in half.

(Pause.)

REGINALD: Is there… is there anything to be done?

VICTORIA: I don’t know.

REGINALD: What do the doctors say?

VICTORIA: Nothing of use. Just to give it time. As if I had any choice in the matter.

REGINALD: I suppose they know best. But time will mend it, dear. It won’t be so bad forever.

VICTORIA: So they tell me. I can’t see that far.

REGINALD: You know, we could… when the time comes… try again.

VICTORIA: What?

REGINALD: We could try for another. Once you’re healed. This needn’t be the end of it— this sorrow.

VICTORIA: Oh, for God’s sake, Reginald.

REGINALD: It’s a bit of hope, Victoria! Don’t we need that?

VICTORIA: Hope for what?

REGINALD: That it won’t— always be like this! That it will be all right!

VICTORIA: But I’m not all right.

REGINALD: I know, darling.

VICTORIA: I’m not all right! I can’t think, everything hurts, I hardly recognize myself— Reginald— they ripped a corpse from me! Don’t you understand?

REGINALD: Dear Christ.

VICTORIA: I can’t— I can’t— just because you’re ready to pick up and carry on!

REGINALD: I am not carrying on. I am… gutted. I feel as though I’ve been… sleepwalking ever since. Like it’s all just a fog. I never thought anything could feel so lost. And then I think of what you’ve been through… and I… I…

(Pause.)

REGINALD: Oh, God, Victoria. I’m sorry.

(Pause.)

REGINALD: I’m sorry for this. Sorry for… everything. All of it.

(He kneels before her and puts his head in her lap.)

REGINALD: Forgive me, darling. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.

(Trapped and miserable, she stares helplessly for a long moment. Then, finally, she lays a hand on his head.)