Dickinson (2019–…): Season 1, Episode 6 - A Brief But Patient Illness - full transcript

How's she doing?

Not too good.

Been in bed almost a week now.

I suppose if it's her time,
then it's her time.

The Lord takes who he wants.

Sure does.

- Maggie, I'll take that upstairs.
- No. I don't mind.

I said I'd take it.

Very good, sir.

How is your head?

Aching. It's like thunder.



Well, I've ordered the whole house silent.

Here.

Please try to eat.

There you go.

So, Dr. Brewster will be here
by the early afternoon.

I don't think that's necessary.

You're all peaked and ashen.

I'm not taking any chances.

Get some sleep.

Damn.

Mrs. Boltwood's cousin
just passed from yellow fever.

It's going around.

Emily doesn't have yellow fever.
She has a headache.

Don't get yourself all worked up
until the doctor's had a look at her.



Good. He's here.

Who's here?

The doctor isn't expected
until this afternoon.

It's not the doctor.

It's the portrait painter,
Thomas Elliot Moody.

I'm sitting for him today.

A painter? Heavens.

Send him away.

Mother, no!

Do you know how long I've waited
to get a session with him?

He's already done
all of the girls in Amherst.

He just finished
Jane Humphrey's portrait last week.

He makes everyone look so beautiful.
I have to sit for him.

He can return another day.

- Wha...
- When Emily's health has improved.

There won't be another day.
He sails to Europe next week.

Your vanity astonishes me, Lavinia.

Thank you.

Your sister is ill.

Which means
there are extra chores to be done

- and you'll need to tend to her.
- That is not fair.

It's always about Emily.

You want me to tend to her
so I can get sick too

and die without ever having
a beautiful portrait painted of me?

It'll be like I never even existed at all.

Should I let him in?

He's got a very assertive knock.

I shall leave that decision
to your conscience.

Okay, so...

I'll do it.

Consarn it.

Need some help?

Who are you?

My name's Ben.

Where did you come from?

Worcester.

That's not what you were asking.

Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.

I'm Benjamin Newton,
your father's new law clerk.

And I'm helping him out
until the election. And if he wins...

keeping up his office here.

You must be one of his daughters. Lavinia?

Emily.

Your father said you've been sick.

Right.

I just needed a book.

From up there?

Yeah.

That's my shelf.

I'd think that your shelf
would be a bit lower.

Or in your own room.

My father buys me books,
then begs me not to read them.

He fears they joggle the mind.

Bit of a mixed message.

Let me grab it for you.

It's that one right there. The green one.

Emerson.

Cool.

"In the long sunny afternoon
The plain was full of ghosts

I wandered up, I wandered down..."

"Beset by pensive hosts"

Dirge. I love that one.

It's spooky, right?

Most people quote love poems.

Nah, I prefer a dirge.
It's like a different kind of love poem.

Yeah.

So, you read a lot of poetry?

As much as I can.

But a lot of what's called poetry
isn't really poetry, you know?

What do you mean?

See...

if I read a book

and it makes my whole body so cold
no fire can warm me...

then I know that is poetry.

If I feel physically
as if the top of my head were taken off,

I know that is poetry.
These are the only ways I know it.

Is there any other way?

Well...

here you go.

Thanks.

So, is your wife here in Amherst too

or will you travel back to Worcester
to see her?

Yes.

Either way.

Well, I should get back to bed.

I'm not sick.

Okay.

I'm just pretending.

Why would you pretend to be sick?

So I can write.

I'm a writer.

Actually...

I'm a poet.

I had a feeling.

Maybe you'll let me read
one of your poems some time.

Would you like to?

Only if it takes the top of my head off.

Please don't tell my dad, okay?

About me not being sick.

Solemn oath.

Oh, shit. That's the doctor.

- Can you get upstairs without...
- I'm invisible.

Do I look pretty?

Please...

remain still.

Will you make sure to make me look pwump?

Excuse me? I can't understand you.

Pwump.

What are you trying to say?

Plump. I wanna look plump.

It's fashionable, you know,
no one wants to look skinny.

I will paint...

the truth.

The truth?

And how is your stool?

Fine. Thank you.

How's yours?

And your vision?

Any spots? Or strange hallucinations?

Not any more than usual.

Do you often hallucinate?

No. Just, sometimes I see...

See what?

Death.

It was not Death, for I stood up

And all the Dead, lie down

- That's good. I got to write that down.
- Just lie down.

Just lie down, my dear.

Try to rest.

There's never an easy way to put this.

Your daughter is going to die.

No.

God, no.

Her symptoms are spotty.

But as there've been more than
100 reported cases

of yellow fever within a mile of Amherst,

I'm quite comfortable
making that diagnosis.

I knew it. Mrs. Boltwood's cousin.

- "Tell all..."
- Tell all the truth

"The truth..."

But tell it slant -

Dammit,
isn't there something you can give her?

Some medicine, some balm, something?

What about leeches?

I hear those have been effective
in many cases.

They really haven't.

Dear God.

I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Dickinson.

My examination makes clear

the disease
has already advanced to her brain.

There's nothing more
that any of us can do.

Can't we just try...

the leeches?

Emily.

Does that feel good, my darling?

Thank you, Mother.

My poor child.

This is all my fault.

No. No, it isn't.

Yes.
This all comes from my side of the family.

I'm afraid you got
the Norcross constitution.

Frail. Susceptible.

I'll be all right.

My daughter...

I must unburden myself
of this long-kept secret.

Maybe... don't.

When I was a student at Yale,
there was a night. One heady night.

A party.
There was an abundance of cherry rum

and one of our most respectable professors
stripped himself naked

and ran across the green.

I know I've failed you as a mother, Emily.

Seriously, don't worry about it.
You're fine.

The truth is,
I never really wanted children.

Mom!

- You didn't?
- No.

I must admit that I partook.

On top of the rum... there were oysters.

I binged upon them late into the evening.

So many oysters. I was intoxicated.

And then
those wicked bivalves overtook me.

There was a girl.

Dad, it's okay.

Her name was Lucinda.

She was a maid.

Much older than I.

And although I was betrothed
to your mother,

I succumbed.

But then I married your father...

and one thing led to another.

And then the three of you were born.

And now...

here you are in this awful state.
And... and...

You realize it was all worth it?

No. I realize I was right.
It's pure agony.

No one,

no one should have to bury a child.

I have tried, I have always tried
to set a good example for you children.

What the f...

Are you sure this is a good idea?

Messing around with everybody's emotions?

If I can finish one poem...

then, yes.

Are you finished already?

I've finished the face.

The rest is a rough study.

May I see?

If you like.

Not to your liking?

It's just...

I wanted to look better.

You look just like this.

Couldn't you have made me prettier?

I paint what I see.

You want something different?
Paint it yourself.

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

I don't know if you'll like Emerson's
essays as much as his poems.

But they've certainly
made an impression on me.

Did you underline this?

Maybe.

"Our life is an apprenticeship
to the truth"

that around every circle
another can be drawn;

that there is no end in nature,

but every end is a beginning;

that there is always
another dawn risen on mid-noon,

"and under every deep a lower deep opens."

Speaking of truth...

I'm not actually married.

But...

you wear a ring.

It was my father's,

and I started wearing it
to remember him by.

And then...

I discovered that it helped
to stop the prying questions

and the endless set-ups
from a thousand Mrs. Dickinsons.

- Wow.
- No offense to your mom.

Oh, none taken.

Lot of power in a little gold band.

A wedding ring as freedom.

That's a new one.

Marriage itself is a bit old-fashioned,
don't you think?

"Take this woman to have and to hold."

Just sounds a little like...

Imprisonment?

- Exactly.
- Yeah.

So, you don't want children?

I love children. Other people's.

But if I had my own...

I wouldn't have any time to read.

I feel like you are reciting
my own thoughts.

Struck a chord?

The whole piano.

You ever swim in this lake?

- My father doesn't let me.
- Why not?

He's afraid I'll get sick.

Well, it's too late now.
You're already dying.

True.

That water, it looks tempting.

"Tempting"?

I bet it's freezing.

Well...

I bet it warms up.

Oh, my God.

Too bright Too bright

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth's superb surprise

Hey.

- Can I come in?
- Yeah.

Your hair.

It's damp.

Night sweats.

Yeah.

The doctor said there isn't any hope.

There's, there's always hope.

I can't imagine life without you, Emily.

Do you remember
that time we put on the bumblebee opera?

Yeah.

That was a pretty fun waste
of an afternoon.

We hummed for so long I got a sore throat.

You were very committed
to that performance.

And nobody's as fun as you, Em.

I don't wanna lose you.

Austin, you won't.

I've already lost Sue.

Now you could go too.

I thought Sue was writing to you.

She only wrote once.

You said twice.

I lied.

I'm sure she misses you.

Are you?

I'm not.

I'm sorry. This is so selfish of me,
going on and on...

spending what could be your last hours...

like this.

Just whining about some girl.

I understand.

And she's not just "some girl," she's Sue.

Yeah.

Sue.

I don't understand her.

But I know I love her.

Because, somehow,
I love not understanding her.

I'd rather spend the rest of my life
not understanding Sue

than marry someone who made sense to me.

Does that make any sense?

Yeah.

I think I get it.

Emily, can you please, please not die?

I finished it.

I want you to read it.

Don't, don't open it now!

Not while I'm in here.

Okay.

Read it when I'm gone.

You mean... when you're dead?

Dude, no,
I mean, like, when I'm in the other room.

Gotcha. Will do.

Now, I have to
go make a miraculous recovery.

Would anyone like some tea?

Tea sounds nice.

Do we have any peppermint?

It's a ghost!

No, Mother. It's actually me.

Emily, shouldn't you be in bed?

It's the most amazing thing.

I woke up this morning
and the headache was gone.

I don't feel dizzy, no more sweats,
I feel... wonderful.

Told you she didn't have yellow fever.

Praise be. Let's get some food into you.
Something that'll stick to your ribs.

I'm sorry if I scared you, Mom.

Yes, well, it's good you're out of bed.

Now you can go wash the sheets.

It's okay, Dad.

I'm not gonna die.

Well, I will one day.

But probably not for, like,
a long, long time.

He likes the poem. He likes it not.
He likes it. He likes it not.

Who cares if he likes it?
He's going to like it, right?

Emily?

Sue?

Is it really you?

Not a figment of my imagination?

I'm real.

But you're out of bed.

Yeah.

Up and at 'em. Feeling good.

But in your letter you said you were sick.

I was...

feeling fatigued.

Your letter said you were dying.

Well, I was dying. Of loneliness.

Because you weren't writing me back.

That's not what you wrote.

Haven't you ever heard of a metaphor?

Dying isn't a metaphor.

Not to me. Everyone in my family died.
I take death literally.

And... you scared me.

You really scared me.

I'm sorry.

Emily, whe...

When I got your letter,
the one that said you were sick...

I realized you're the only one I have.

Without you,
I might as well not exist here.

You're the only one who truly loves me.

That's not true.

- It is.
- No.

My brother loves you.

What?

Austin came to my bedside when I was sick.

Or when I was not sick.

He confided in me.

About you.

About how he feels.

And, Sue, he adores you.

And I think...

you should marry him.

Tell all the truth but tell it slant -

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind -

Sue?

Austin.

What are you doing here?

I came back.

But... for who?

For you.