A Continuation of A Doll's House
Ten to fifteen years have past. It is now the late 1880s. We open on the Helmers' residence, now dimmer, lonely and more in shambles. Resting on the large sofa in the center of the room is Ivar Helmer, the youngest of Torvald and Nora's children, now fully grown. He wears a very worn-out but still fashionable green and deep blue suit coat, pants and thick black boots. Slowly, Ivar opens his eyes and sits up, rubbing his eyes and stifling yawns. Suddenly, a knock comes at the door. Ivar jumps up and freezes for a moment, his head darting back and forth before the knock comes again and Ivar dashes over to the door. He fiddles with the old lock, jamming and pulling to get it free. Finally, Ivar manages to undo it and opens the door. In walks Nora, now in her late-30s to early-40s and dressed in a modest cloak more suited to her age. Despite her age, she has a air of refinement and fortitude about her.
IVAR: Good day, madam.
NORA: Good day to you, sir. I hope I'm not intruding on anything important-
IVAR: Oh, no, not at all! (Regretful) Nothing much happens round here anymore.
NORA (Curiosity peaked): Might I come in? I feel I might catch a death of cold out here.
Ivar is taken off guard, but he steps aside. Nora enters the room, stopping short of the sofa. She approaches it.
IVAR: I hope you'll excuse this wigwam I refer to as a home. It's been some time since company has been a regular commodity-
Nora silences him with a delicate finger to her lips. She lays her gloved hand on the sofa. She looks up at the walls and the ceiling, all while still holding onto the corner of the sofa.
IVAR: I'm sorry, madam, is there something you came for?
NORA (Taken aback): I've come back to see what Torvald's been doing in all these years.
IVAR: Torvald Helmer?
NORA: Do you know of another?
IVAR: Only one. My father.
NORA (Stunned whisper): You never left. My faithful boy.
Ivar remains silent as his confused expression transforms into one of realization.
IVAR: M-Mother? Mother, is it really you?
NORA (Bringing him into her arms): Ivar, my dear, of course.
Mother and son embrace each other, making up for over a decade of separation. They separate once
more and take seats on the elegant sofa.
NORA: I have missed you so.
IVAR: Why did you ever leave?
NORA: Ivar...Your father forced me to leave.
IVAR: What? He would never have done a thing like-
NORA: No, no, no, not by his own will. (Referring to the house) I never lived here as anything more than a play-thing. Similar to those wood blocks which so entertained you as a child. Formless and meaningless to a fault. I had to escape, travel abroad, make my own path. This I have done to the best of my ability. I came back in part to see if Torvald had changed in any way... perhaps even moved on.
IVAR (Heart sinking): Mother...Did you-Did you wonder why I was alone here?
NORA (Worried): Why, yes I did.
IVAR (Hard for him to say): Father began his position at the bank after you left. Some years past and all seemed well. But then Father began facing financial troubles. He was always too proud to say what they were. You knew how he was.
NORA: All too well.
IVAR: Debts started flooding in. Soon Father was taken to a debtor's prison. Bob, Emmy and myself worked tirelessly to free him. Our efforts paid off, however briefly. Father slipped in and out of the jails before simply disappearing one day into thin air. We could only assume he was dead.
Nora wraps an arm around Ivar, which seems to comfort him somewhat.
NORA: Go on.
IVAR: Neither Bob nor Emmy wanted to keep the house as it reminded them too much of Father. I've been the sole owner ever since.
NORA: It must be difficult living such a life.
IVAR: There have been simple days and frustrating days in equal stride.
NORA: Ivar, you've weathered the storm multiple times over. If you can do it that much, you are safe.
Ivar embraces his mother once more.
FIN