Normal Bill Is Dead, Scene 1

Scene

BILL and KRISTY’s furnished basement.
Time

The present.

ACT I

Scene 1

SETTING: We are in BILL and KRISTY’s basement. It is barely furnished with plain white walls and nothing on the floors, as if they had gotten halfway through finishing it before they got tired of the job. There is a bed surrounded by a bunch of medical equipment that just barely avoids being obsolete, including a heart monitor that beeps softly at regular intervals.

AT RISE: BILL is lying in bed, breathing heavily through his mouth. He hears something offstage and considers it briefly.

BILL
Kristy?

(KRISTY enters.)

KRISTY
What is it, Bill?

BILL
Could you get me something?

KRISTY
Get you what?

BILL
A glass of juice please?

KRISTY
We only have orange.

BILL
Only orange?

KRISTY
Yes. We’re all out of everything else.

BILL
I don’t really want orange.

KRISTY
Well it’s that or nothing.

BILL
Maybe water.

(KRISTY exits then reenters a few seconds later with a glass of orange juice.)

BILL (continued)
This is orange juice.

KRISTY
I forgot. And I think you should drink orange juice anyway, it’s better for you.

BILL
Put it on the table. Maybe if I get thirstier later.

(KRISTY puts the juice on the table. SHE sits in a chair next to BILL’s bed.)

KRISTY
How are you feeling?

BILL
Worse.

KRISTY
Still?

BILL
Yeah. It’s always worse. Always worse.

KRISTY
Maybe you’ll get better.

BILL
I’m not going to get better.
KRISTY
You shouldn’t talk that way.

BILL
I’m dying, Kristy. I’m on my death bed.

KRISTY
I know, Bill. Please stop saying that.

BILL
Could you do something else for me?

KRISTY
Sure. What do you need?

BILL
Could you move the car out of the garage?

KRISTY
What?

BILL
I keep getting this vision of the car crashing through the floor into the basement and killing me.

KRISTY
We’re underneath the kitchen.

BILL
Yeah, but the garage is right over there. If it crashed through the ceiling, I might still get hit with a beam or something.

KRISTY
But the garage isn’t over the basement. It’s over the ground.

BILL
Still, Kristy. The mental image.

(KRISTY gets up, and takes two steps towards the stairs, but then turns to BILL.)

KRISTY
Why do you want me to do that again?

BILL
Because I’m dying, Kristy.

(KRISTY accepts this and takes another couple of steps towards the stairs, but stops again.)

KRISTY
But if you’re dying, then it wouldn’t matter if you get crushed by a beam. Right?

BILL
How could you say that?

KRISTY
Well, isn’t it true?

BILL
Look, I ask you for one simple thing that will take two seconds--

KRISTY
All right, all right, Bill. I’m going.

(KRISTY exits. Only seconds later, she reenters.)

KRISTY (continued)
I moved the car.

BILL
You did?

KRISTY
Yup. All moved.

BILL
Didn’t take very long.

KRISTY
It’s a fast car.

BILL
Are you sure you moved it?

KRISTY
Don’t you believe me?
BILL
I just don’t know why I didn’t hear the car or why you finished so quickly.

KRISTY
If you don’t believe me, you can get up and see.

BILL
No I can’t.

KRISTY
Oh, but you can.

(BILL coughs a little bit, then gets carried away with himself and starts coughing violently.)

BILL
(coughing)
Help.

KRISTY
You OK?

BILL
(still coughing)
I’m coughing.

KRISTY
(exasperated)
Well try to stop.

(BILL notices KRISTY’s tone and stops coughing gradually.)

BILL
That was a close one.

KRISTY
Close to what?

BILL
I thought I was going to cough to death. Did you see me?

KRISTY
You’re not going to cough to death, Bill. Coughing is not a symptom.
BILL
But it could be a second disease. Feasting on my weakened organs.

KRISTY
That’s unlikely.

BILL
Could you do something for me?

KRISTY
What now?

BILL
Fluff my pillow?

KRISTY
Bill, what the hell are you talking about?

BILL
What do you mean?

KRISTY
Fluff your pillow? Are you serious?

BILL
Of course I’m serious.

KRISTY
What the hell does that even mean? Do you even know what that means?

BILL
Yes. You kind of hit it so the pillow becomes--fluffier.

KRISTY
And why do you need that?

BILL
I’m sinking into my pillow. It’s making it difficult to breathe.

KRISTY
It is, is it?

BILL
Yes. That’s how Christ died. When you’re crucified, your esophagus sort of closes and you can’t breath.

KRISTY
I thought crucifixion involved a cross, not a bed.

BILL
It’s not a very comfortable bed. Is this the best we have?

KRISTY
It’s the best we have in the basement.

BILL
I wouldn’t want you to move our king-sized bed down all the way from the second floor.

KRISTY
How considerate.

BILL
So just the pillow fluffing will be fine.

(KRISTY sits.)

KRISTY
I’m not going to fluff your pillow, Bill.

BILL
Why not?

KRISTY
Because that’s stupid. You don’t need your pillow fluffed.

BILL
Who’s to say?

KRISTY
That’s not even a down pillow. I don’t even think it can be fluffed.

BILL
You didn’t even buy me a down pillow for my death bed?

KRISTY
Stop saying “death bed,” Bill.

BILL
Why?
KRISTY
Because I want you to stop speaking altogether but I’m trying to take it slow.

BILL
What?

KRISTY
Two words at a time. We’ll eliminate the rest of the words by the end of the month. For now, just those two.

BILL
Stop making jokes. You need to accept that I’m dying. Everyone has their time. This is my time.

KRISTY
Time to what?

BILL
This is my time. To go.

KRISTY
It’s not your time, stop being dramatic.

BILL
I might not live to the end of the month.

KRISTY
You could live until the end of the year and you’re still not going to convince me to fluff that pillow.

(BILL huffs and puffs, struggling for words.)

KRISTY (continued)
Here. Drink your juice. It’s good for your immune system.

BILL
My immune system is powerless.

KRISTY
I’m sure it is. Just drink.

(BILL drinks a little bit of orange juice. He reaches over to put it on the nightstand next to him, but can’t reach it. He exaggerates the impossibility of reaching the nightstand. KRISTY watches him and allows him to flail around for a bit before taking the juice for him.)

KRISTY
Here, let me take it.

BILL
Thank you. And while you’re up.

(KRISTY quickly sits back down.)

BILL (continued)
Oh.

KRISTY
Yes. I’m sitting now.

BILL
I see. It’s just--

KRISTY
I mean, if I was still up--

BILL
I know. It’s my own fault.

(BILL sighs. KRISTY tries not to smile. They sit in silence for a few seconds. BILL begins breathing loudly with his mouth open, then begins wheezing. KRISTY can no longer stand it.)

KRISTY
Could you keep it down?

BILL
(no longer wheezing)
I’m sorry?

KRISTY
Do you really need to carry on like that? The wheezing and the panting, like you’re a dog or something.


BILL
(voice breaking)
Kristy, I’m sick.

KRISTY
You’re barely sick.

BILL
I’m on my death bed! The doctor used those very words, he said “death bed.”

KRISTY
First of all, that was only the fourth doctor we saw.

BILL
The other three were quacks.

KRISTY
Says who?

BILL
Says the fourth one.

KRISTY
Setting that aside for a moment, let’s say that the fourth doctor was right. So you’re on your death bed. So what?

BILL
Kristy, are you familiar with that term? Or its implications?

KRISTY
Bill, I’m not saying you’re not going to die. You may or may not be dying.

BILL
Of course I’m dying.

KRISTY
Maybe you are.

BILL
I am.

KRISTY
So if you really are dying, why can’t you just die with a little dignity?
BILL
What does that mean?

KRISTY
All the wheezing, the moaning, the whining, the complaining. I’ve had enough of it, to be honest.

BILL
I don’t enjoy it either, but I’m dying.

KRISTY
What do you want your legacy to be? What do you want your tombstone to say?

BILL
I don’t know, my name and the dates I guess.

KRISTY
“Here lies Bill who went down fighting?” Or “here lies Bill who went out something like a soggy Kleenex.”

BILL
Fighting? What’s the point of fighting. I’m finished. It’s over, Kristy. Just let me enjoy my last moments in silence.

KRISTY
You’re not enjoying anything.

BILL
That’s because I can’t concentrate on my enjoyment.

KRISTY
Who’s to say a little fighting wouldn’t do you any good?

BILL
Oh come on, Kristy, what good is fighting going to do?

KRISTY
Haven’t you seen those stories on TV, the ones about the people who come down with terminal diseases like you have--only worse, mind you--and they find religion or get some determination or what have you and they live through it. Why can’t you do that?

BILL
Well first of all, if we’re really going to discuss this, there’s nothing worse than a terminal illness, so your entire premise is flawed.

KRISTY
Don’t dodge the issue, Bill. The issue is your lack of spine.

BILL
I’ll thank you to not refer to my spine as it’s in a great deal of pain right now.

KRISTY
It’s all in your head!

BILL
So you don’t think I’m going to die.

KRISTY
I’m not saying that, Bill.

BILL
You are saying it! That’s exactly what you’ve said!

KRISTY
You don’t have to die.

BILL
Everyone has to die, Kristy.

KRISTY
OK, fine. But there are a lot of different ways to die.

BILL
Yeah, and they all end up the same way. With me dead.

KRISTY
You’re not there yet.

BILL
I’m well on my way. The pain--

KRISTY
There is no pain. Even the fourth doctor said there would be no pain.

BILL
The fourth doctor is a quack just like the rest of them.
KRISTY
You’re inventing all this pain, you sad sack, you’re trying to make people feel sorry for you or something.

BILL
What people?

KRISTY
Well don’t think I don’t see right through it. Look at you. Lazing around, without a care in the world.

BILL
Well that’s wrong. I can think of at least one care, and that’s without a whole lot of effort.

KRISTY
Do you realize our mortgage payments are late again?

BILL
(disgusted by its irrelevance)
Mortgage.

KRISTY
Yes, Bill. Some of us, believe it or not, will continue to function even when you’re not here anymore. Did you even think about that?

BILL
Who’s got time to think? I’m trying to survive over here.

KRISTY
Stop being dramatic, Bill.

BILL
Every breath I take is agony. Every muscle that twitches in my body is like a--a something painful, I don’t know. I’m too tired for metaphor.

KRISTY
Bill, the doctors said it would be painless. Even setting aside the fact that three of them also said that you weren’t dying--

BILL
The doctors. What do the doctors know about it?


KRISTY
Probably whatever they were taught when they went through a little thing called medical school.

BILL
Enough of your semantics. I’m on my death bed.

KRISTY
Oh, are you on your death bed? I hadn’t known that. I guess I’d forgotten, what with your heroic stoicism in the face of death, and all.

BILL
I am facing death. What else is there to talk about?

KRISTY
No wonder you’re going to die.

BILL
I’m glad to see you’ve finally come around.

KRISTY
It’s this negative “I’m gonna die and nothing’s gonna stop me” attitude. Pathetic. I mean, would it hurt to be just a little bit more positive?

BILL
Everything hurts.

KRISTY
Enough!

BILL
Well what do you suggest I do? Have you got a cure?

KRISTY
First thing I would do is take out all these machines.

BILL
These machines are keeping my alive.

KRISTY
You need a heart monitor to keep you alive?

BILL
Yes, I might.

KRISTY
It doesn’t do anything. It only monitors your heart.

BILL
But how will I know if it stops?


KRISTY
I think if your heart stops, we’ll be able to figure it out, between the two of us.

BILL
And this one here, I need this one too.

KRISTY
What does it do?

BILL
It’s connected to my veins.

KRISTY
These aren’t even real medical machines. Where’d you even get them?

BILL
I bought them from a guy who used to work at the hospital.

KRISTY
These things are antiques. And the whole attitude that you need these machines--that’s what’s killing you.

BILL
There’s nothing wrong with my machines.

KRISTY
You hooked them up yourself. You don’t even know what you’re doing.

BILL
I had the manuals.

KRISTY
This one is falling over.

(KRISTY rocks one of the larger machines back and forth. It wobbles.)

BILL
(clutching his chest)
Don’t do that!

KRISTY
Stop clutching your chest, Bill.

BILL
I thought that was it.

KRISTY
Enough! No wonder you’re dying.

BILL
Stop saying that.

KRISTY
No, really. How are you going to expect a bunch of white blood cells to work for such a whiny, gloomy, self-defeating little turd? No wonder they can’t do their job. It’s depressing. It’s like working in a hundred degree sweatshop with no windows and no ventilation.

BILL
So what do you want from me?

KRISTY
Just pull yourself together, for God’s sake. For your own sake.

BILL
I don’t have time to pull myself together.

KRISTY
No time? Your self-pitying little act is costing you at least another six months.

BILL
(waving his arms, in a frenzy)
So I get another six months. Wowee. Pardon me if I’m not tap dancing around the room at the prospect of another six months of mortgages and you, my lovely wife, berating me for my bodily weakness. What a wonderful gift! Every moment is precious! Especially the ones spent bickering. And being hen-pecked, those are my special favorites! It’s just a blast being around you, Kristy! Real swell, honey!

(Long pause. KRISTY looks down, ashamed. BILL sees this and is embarrassed as well.)

BILL
I’m sorry.

(KRISTY looks at him. She looks like she is about to say something, but dashes upstairs instead.)

BILL
Kristy! Come back here.

(BLACKOUT)

END OF SCENE 1