Monologue: Curley's Wife

I could have been somebody. A Hollywood star: glamorous gowns, diamonds for eyes and rosy red lips, a life of divine elegance. My face painted on the walls of cities and shone upon the big screens. I could have been in the pictures! Have a life allied with incessant happiness; joined like a magnet to never ending joy.
Now I’m here. Trapped in this prison with Curley, on this god damn ranch. Life before Curley was free, no care in the world. Just me. I was naive but the sky was the limit. I only married him to escape my old lady; to escape to dread of living the entirety of my life, isolated from happiness. I dreamt that married life would bring me love and happiness. I was stupid and ignorant of reality.
I now stare into a vast bottomless pit of isolation. Look at me. A sad life, resorting to a bunch of old bindle stiffs: a nigger, a dumb dumb and a crippled old man. I resort to them, whilst my husband abandons me to go into town and pay for his company. You think I don’t know where he’s gone? He’s gone blowin’ our jack whilst I stay, desperate for company, and resorting to the loneliest of them all; and liking it cause there ‘aint nobody else!
My dream was possible. When I was fifteen, I met a guy from the movies. Said I could go with the show, only my old lady wouldn’t let me. Said I was too young. The night I met Curley a man who said he could put me in the pictures. He said that he would send me a letter soon as he got back to Hollywood. I never got that letter. I bet you my old lady stole it. She didn’t want me getting something she could only dream of. I decided I couldn’t live with her no more, so I married Curley. I bet you I wouldn’t be living like this if my old lady had let me go.
Me and her lived just outside of Salinas until I got married. Our house was one of ten balanced on a gentle slope. The small space between the river and the road provided each house with three small rooms: a kitchen, and two bed rooms. Out front was a small piece of...