(_Lacey enters a bare stage and addresse...

(Lacey enters a bare stage and addresses audience)

My father was a wonderful man who waited on me hand and foot when I was a child. Mother used to jokingly call him “the slave.” When I grew up, I expected to find a husband as loving and selfless as my father. Instead I found Frank.

I would always give Frank thirty minute back rubs, which he always asked for. He’d never give me back rubs unless I begged, and then only for thirty seconds. One time, I broke both my arms and they were put in casts. Despite this I continued with Frank’s back rubs. The doctor warned me that if I continued using the muscles in my arms that way, I would permanently damage them and have unbearable shooting pains for the rest of my life. I told Frank what the doctor said, and Frank told me I was exaggerating because I was lazy and didn’t care about how his back felt.

One day shortly after that, after a long time rubbing his back, my own was sore. And so I said “Your turn, and I want a half an hour because I always give you a half an hour, - what’s fair is fair.” And Frank said “I thought you gave me back rubs because you love me not because you expected something in return?” And I explained that I love him, but I also wanted something since I give so much. Then he told me I was just being selfish, and I needed to start trying to be a truly selfless person.

And so I tried to be selfless for awhile, but the shooting pains in my arms, which he also refused to massage, were so unbearable that finally I figured it would just be easier to kill Frank than continue trying to be selfless. And I know I should have just left, or something, but the apartment was so nice and why should I be the one to give it up? I’m the one who found it in the first place. And I suppose even then, there were other ways to handle things, but I couldn’t think of any at the time. Killing him was the best I could come up with.

The real problem with me and Frank was, I think, my inability to be assertive. To assert myself. I mean, had I just asserted my right to back rubs, and to my arms, and to my apartment which I found, then maybe Frank would have respected my needs and I wouldn’t have felt that killing him was the only option available to me.

I think I fluctuate between being too passive and too aggressive when what I really need is to find some middle ground between the two.

Sourced from the author's website Monologue Genie

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