A monologue from the play by August Wilson
LOUISE (forty-eight)
However it go he make it go that way. He remind me of Henry. That man walked out on me and that was the best thing that happened to me.
When he left I told myself say, “If you have to say hello before you can say good-bye I ain’t never got to worry about nobody saying good-bye to me no more.”
I ain’t never going through one of them good-byes again. He was standing upstairs in the hallway. Told me say, “I’m leaving.”
I asked him, “What for? After twelve years. Why you gonna leave after all this time? After you done used me up.”
He say, “It’s something I got to do.” Then he went on and gathered up his things. He left a razor and a pair of shoes.
They still up there… He got to the doorway and I told him, “Leave your pistol. Don’t leave me here by myself.”
He ain’t said nothing. He took out his pistol and handed it to me. I told him say, “I ought to shoot you.” We laughed and then he kissed me good-bye.
I ain’t seen him since. I got that pistol upstairs now. What I’m trying to tell you is, don’t let no man use you up and then talk about he gotta go.
Shoot him first.
