He is the Imelda Marcos of Other Shoes

In the spirit of not being intimidating by anything, least of all unexpected Facebook messages, even on the day of my first auditions, an excerpt:

I imagine he finds out about this story.

He calls me, in a rage, how dare I?

He calls me, he's touched I was so touched.  He never knew.

He calls me, laughing, oh those were the good old days, we really tore it up then, huh?

He comes to the show, the lights go up at the end, I bow, and I see him there, in the back, crying or smiling or walking out.

He comes to the show, and I see him in the lobby beforehand.  I have to be taken out on a stretcher.

He comes to the show, and I see him in the lobby beforehand.  I salute to him, a glass of champagne in my hand.  (In this version, I am wearing a sparkly low cut backless gown.)

He comes to the show, and I see him in the lobby beforehand.  I am peeking out of the curtain, the door, backstage.  I curse under my breath and yell for the director.  Cut the scene where I look fat!  Cut the scene where I still love him!  Cut!  Cut!  Cut!

He comes to the show, and I see him in the lobby beforehand.  I am peeking out of the curtain, the door, backstage.  I curse under my breath and yell for the director.  Find the happy ending!  Put the scene with the happy ending at the end!  Put in the one where we get back together, the one where I still love him, the one where I already have another love of my life, the one where I'm single and happy and alone and loving life itself.

He comes to the show, and I see him in the lobby beforehand.  I am peeking out of the curtain, the door, backstage.  One of my actors sees me crying, and she calls everyone over.  We huddle in a circle, and sing something.  I am ready.

He comes to the show, and he brings his girlfriend, no, fiance.  Now, she's the one in the sparkly low cut dress.  With heels.  She doesn't have a backpack stashed somewhere under a seat, she won't change into sneakers later, her lipstick stays on throughout the entire show, and when I come out to bow, they're making out, they're laughing, they're already gone.

He finds out, and just sends me a letter.  It's long, rambly, and I can't figure out what he wants from me.  I realize the question should be reversed, but I'm still wondering.

He finds out, but he doesn't call.  He doesn't come to the show.  He doesn't care.

He doesn't find out.

 The True Story, or Vicious & Multiple & Untrue After All will premiere as part of First Person Arts RAW at the First Person Arts Festival (November 8-17, 2012).