Perhaps That's Enough

CHARACTERS

• NARRATOR - Observes and frames the scene

• NORA - A woman waiting, remembering

• MUNYING - Nora's helper

• MARK - Heard only through the letter

SETTING:

Late afternoon. A modest room. A window faces the light. The air smells faintly of cigarettes.

NARRATOR 

It’s late afternoon, the air smelling faintly of cigarettes. Nora sits by the window, listening to the slow rhythm of her own breathing.

(A pause. The room is quiet.)

MUNYING 

Manang? A letter has arrived. From America, I think.

NORA

From him?

MUNYING 

Yes, manang. Shall I read it to you?

(Nora nods) 

NORA:

Please.  

NARRATOR 

Munying unfolds the paper. The sound is small but sharp, and for a moment, Nora feels the weight of the years held in each fold. 

MUNYING (reading):

My darling Nora…

NARRATOR 

But as the words begin, it is not Munying’s voice anymore that she hears—it’s his.

MARK

There’s a vast expanse of sea by Liberty State that stretches toward a row of towers—stark grey yet golden when I catch them at the right hour. The sun here is gentler; I can go about with just a cap, and when everything turns soft yellow at four p.m. I remember you—your hair shining, your skirt caught in the tall grasses outside your yard. No, I do not forget—and am still very certain that you’re the best among us both.

(A brief pause)

Sometimes I gaze at the waters and imagine pulling you from a wave, smiling, smug, full of stories. I’d kiss you then, and no one would bat an eye. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder—perhaps that’s true. I think I’ll adore you even more across time and distance, despite the thickening of skin and the enlargement of a stomach that’s home to very little.

Are you eating well? Have an extra serving for me. I live mostly on packed rice and long hours now. I’ve grown, though part of me remains the same. Is it too late to wish I had stayed home just for a few more summers—just long enough for us to be sure? I still hear your voice from Hong Kong, sharp and alive. Better to have it ringing in my ears than not at all. What of it? We'll feel better in the end. 

I’ve kept all your letters. You might think them tedious now, but I read them still. All sweet words, unfit for me. I tried to understand the silence between us—the wall neither of us could cross. Maybe that was our kindness to each other, to let distance be.

Lately, Jersey has worn me down. I’ve been feeling more sick—not much sleep, heater’s broken and the cold water bites, you can imagine. Yet through it all, I think of you. Do send me the pictures, if you can. I’ll let myself miss you now—fully, honestly. Perhaps that’s the only way to keep you close.

Yours still,

Mark 

(The letter ends. Paper rustles softly.)

NARRATOR: 

The words fade. Silence fills the room. 

(Nora’s fingers tremble slightly as she grips the windowsill, steadying herself.)

MUNYING: 

Do you want me to put it away, manang?

NORA: 

No. Leave it here. Thank you, Munying.

(Munying exits. Footsteps grow lighter.)

NARRATOR: 

Nora lights a cigarette. Smoke curls into the air, blurring the lines of the late afternoon light. She imagines the sea he spoke of—vast, golden, endless.

(A pause.)

NORA: 

Perhaps that’s enough.