Henry: This pettiness here had to stop. We have to rise above. The work that we’re doing is not about the ego. It’s not about who gets the most attention, who gets the most money, who gets to be on the front page. That is not what we are fighting for. Is it?
Henry: Is it?
Henry: No, what we are doing here is far more important than any of that. What we are doing here is claiming our right to exist. Our writing, our newspaper is changing the world. It’s changing the entire fate of this country, and though me may be anonymous today, tomorrow we will not be invisible.
Austin: Why didn’t you come to our house?
Emily: Because no one can see me anyway, Austin. I’m invisible.
Austin: OK, clearly, I can see you.
Emily: Well, you’re the first person who’s been able to see me all day.
Austin: Is this some kind of weird psychological reaction to getting published?
Emily: I’m nobody, Austin.
Austin: You’re somebody to me.
Emily: Did you read me poem?
Austin: Of course. I’m so proud of you.
Emily: You are?
Austin: Yeah, honestly, you’re the only thing in my life I’m proud of right now.
Emily: Austin, what’s wrong?
Austin: Nothing, believe me. You’re poetry, that’s real. You have something that’s real. If I had something like that… well, I’d be happy.
Nobody: I tried to warn you.
Emily: What the hell is going on?
Nobody: You didn’t listen to me.
Emily: Who are you, and what are you doing in my kitchen?
Nobody: I’m Nobody. Who are you?
Emily: OK, this riddle is cute, but you’re a ghost, and you’re the only one who can see me, which means I’m dead. I died in the night, maybe. OK. That’s cool. All right, I’m cool with that. Um, it was painless, I guess. I wonder when my family will find my body. Maybe they’re upstairs right now about to pull back the covers to reveal my frozen corpse.
Mrs. Dickinson: I’ll just take the paper into the other room.
Edward: Give me my paper back please for god’s sake. ‘The May Wine’ by E. Dickinson. So this is what you were trying to keep from me. She’s gone and done it.
Emily: Does anyone want to talk to me about this or…
Edward: There’s no stopping her now.
Mrs. Dickinson: I’m so sorry, Edward. This is my fault. I should have kept closer watch on her.
Edward: You know what? It’s not too bad.
Emily: OK, you guys don’t need to act like I don’t exist. Hello?
Edward: She might make the family proud after all.
Emily: Oh my god, am I invisible?
Ship: Vinny, I can’t do this anymore. I am an ambitious entrepreneurial businessman, and I need a wife who supports me.
Emily: Ship, I can hear you.
Ship: I thought you were that wife, but what I have learned is, you’re not, even though you’re super hot, and I love your pussy.
Emily: You’re talking about… He’s talking about her cats.
Ship: I’m just gonna have to be a man about this and call it off. I’m leaving you, Lavinia.
Lavinia: Ship, we can all hear you in there talking to yourself.
Nobody: You’re not dead, and I’m not a ghost.
Emily: Really? ‘Cause you sure act like one. Appearing out of nowhere, haunting me.
Nobody: I’m not a ghost. I’m just a mystery.
Emily: A mystery? Wow, OK, and I’m supposed to solve you?
Nobody: You can try.
Emily: Look, as enticing as you’re making this, I think I’ll pass. Kinda have my hands full right now. It is the biggest day of my life, and I was expecting some, I don’t know, appreciation. Maybe a compliment or two. But here I am, literally invisible, on the one day where I’m supposed to be the center of attention.
Nobody: Maybe there’s an upside to your situation.
Emily: What do you mean, “upside”?
Nobody: Well, you’re invisible, which means you can find out the truth.
Emily: The truth?
Nobody: You can find out what people actually think of your poem.
Ship: You intimidate me.
Ship: You have all these modern ideas, and I just want you to be my traditional, normal wife.
Lavinia: OK, well, I’m not normal, OK. I am a twisted, witchy, creative, horny woman, and you can’t accept that. You can’t accept me.
Sue, Sue, you were right. You were right about everything. I want to be seen by people. I want to be seen by you. Sue?Emily
Emily: I don’t know what I expected, but this is worse.
Nobody: Come on. It’s not so bad.
Emily: Everybody just gets to talk about me, regardless of whether or not what they say is true?
Nobody: Guess you don’t know what it’ll feel like ‘til it happens. Fame, it’s kinda like death.
Emily: But I’m not dead, am I?
Nobody: No, you’re just…
Edward: This is ridiculous. You’re going to spend even more money on some experimental voodoo after we wasted a fortune on that silly opera.
Mrs. Dickinson: Emily is sick. She can barely get out of bed. What if she has the measles? Or worse, spiritual measles?
Edward: What the hell is that?
Mrs. Dickinson: I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.
Sue: Emily, this anxiety you’re experiencing, it’s natural. This is a big step for you and your career. You’re putting yourself out there, and it’s stirring up a lot of emotion. But that’s good. You of all people know what to do with emotion: Put it on the page. Write about it. Turn it into art.
Emily: But I don’t believe in myself anymore.
Sue: Wait, what?
Emily: I used to have this confidence, this power, but not anymore, not since I met him. And Sue, I hate to say this, but it’s your fault.
Sue: My fault?
Emily: Yes, because you pressured me into this. You introduced me to him. You started filling my head with all these ideas about fame. And as soon as I gave him my poem, I lost everything. The flow I used to have, it got cut off. I used to be inspired by everything. And then suddenly, the only thing that mattered to me was him – what he thought, how he felt. It’s like he invaded me. He’s all I can think about. I used to have a drive that came from somewhere else, and now it all comes from him.
Mrs. Dickinson: Get up, Emily.
Emily: No, don’t make me go.
Mrs. Dickinson: Today is going to be good for you.
Emily: But I hate my life, and I truly want to die.
Mrs. Dickinson: And that’s exactly why we need a spa day.