Billy's Vote

Billy’s Vote

Pages 100 - 126

The ward had been slow all day, nothing to do but continue our Monopoly game. We’d been at it for a few days at this point, I don’t even know how many days it’d been since we first passed Go. Mac was the banker. I think Harding made him banker, said he’s smart with money. He’s smart with money alright, just not any of his own! Lost maybe $20 by then playing poker. No, I didn’t lose it. I got robbed!
Cheswick’s got a funny look on his face, the kind he gets before he throws a fit and stamps his feet at Miss Ratched. 

“Martini, roll the damn dice!” Martini ain’t paying him any mind, he’s got one dice in his left hand and the other in his mouth. I don’t think he even realizes he just chews on stuff. His mouth is like a vacuum, one of those big fields in space NASA says is sucking up light. I saw it on the news last week, the space programs aren’t just to win the race against the Soviets. They also seen big fields of nothing swallowing light, massive chunks of space gone in a flash. That dice ain’t so different, its shiny surface approaching the black chasm in the back of Martini’s throat.

“For god’s sake Martini don’t swallow the fuckin’ dice!”

Mac screams as he reaches into Martini’s mouth and yanks the dice out.

He’s like a father, yanking a tooth out of a petulant toddler. He wipes the dice off on his shirt and clacks them together in his hand, rolling them for Martini. Martini couldn’t care less, he’s drifted somewhere else now. I don’t know where he drifts when he’s got that blank, vacant stare. I wish I could see what he sees. We played for about an hour. Longest damn hour of my life.

“Could all acute ward patients report to the day room? Group therapy shall begin in 3 minutes.” Miss Ratched’s soft voice echoes over the loudspeaker. It’s not very loud in the tub room, almost faint. Like a spirit drifting in and out of the room. Maybe that’s what Martini sees. 

We scoot chairs to the dayroom, clear the tables, and all sit down. Miss Ratched is holding her folders and that notebook. That damn notebook. Mac calls it the “God damn motherfuckin’ book of the devil.” I wrote down something he said on Tuesday, he started blabbering about one of his past “flings” I hate when he does that. Can’t talk about girls like that, Mother warned me so.

“M-m-m-miss Ratched? C-could I talk a-a-a-about myself today? I-I-I-I just feel li-like it.”

She nods and we begin. I don’t share often, and usually when I do I talk about Mother. This time was different, I had other things on my mind. Mac talks about the military a bit. Got me thinkin’. I was almost an army man. Almost.

I felt like I talked for days, my throat dry as a desert by the time she asked me to get off the topic of my stutter. I couldn’t help it. I got lots to say, but my throat don’t got the time to say it. It’s in a hurry, it wants all words vacated and closed up. “Spit it out! C’mon, say it with your chest! Speak up, boy!”

I’ve heard that kinds of stuff all my life. Nothing’s new. Never new stuff on the ward. Miss Ratched moves the topic along. Now she wants me to talk about the girl. Mother never liked girls. Says they take me away from her.
“So, Billy, do you think your Mother is overbearing in a sense? I mean, me and her are old friends and I’ve never gotten that sense from her, but perhaps you could shine a light on your perspective.”
“I-I-I-I-I just f-f-f-feel there’s got to b-be a better way to be a p-p-p-p-parent! I don’t w-want to be just an e-e-extension of h-her! I’m n-not no o-octopus arm!”

“Yeah, Billy’s his own man!” Cheswick pipes up and stands on his feet, the little brat he is. Biggest middle-aged brat I’ve ever seen. I hate it, he doesn’t let a man fight his own battles. Ain’t nobody needs a little puppy like him chirping at everyone everywhere. 

“S-s-s–s-shut up Cheswick!” “Calm down Mr. Bibbit, our meeting is going to conclude soon. No need for hostility. Save your thoughts for the next meeting.” She intermittently puts her finger to her lips and shushes me, like she’s blowing candles between her words. “Now with that, I believe this meeting shall come to a close if nothing else is to be said.” Mac’s not happy, he’s still got something to say. He always does.

“As a matter of fact, ma’am, there does happen to be something. Remember that vote we had a day or so back – about the TV time? Well, today’s Friday and I thought I might just bring it up again, just to see if anybody else has picked up a little guts.”

“Mr. McMurphy, the purpose of this meeting is therapy, group therapy, and I’m not certain these petty grievances–”
“Yeah, yeah, the hell with that, we’ve heard it before. Me and some of the rest of the guys decided–”

“One moment, Mr. McMurphy, let me pose a question to the group: do any of you feel that Mr. McMurphy is perhaps imposing his personal desires on some of you too much? I’ve been thinking you might be happier if he were moved to a different ward.”

She cuts him off again, but this time ain’t nobody listening to her. She’s got that voice of daggers, but her words ain’t touching Mac. He’s a mountain of a man with skin hard as rocks. Mac kept arguing, he wanted that vote. In a way, we all wanted it. I put my hand up this time, I knew I had to. All us acutes did. I didn’t mean it as disrespect to Miss Ratched, I swear I didn’t.

But I felt like it told her something, something I’ve wanted to say for a long while. I had lots to say, and this time my hand had the time to say it. 

Why Billy?

I used Billy Bibbit’s character as a speaker since I feel a personal connection to him somewhat. Billy as a character struggles greatly with asserting himself to his mother and Ratched, and it’s specifically told he was institutionalized at the suggestion of his mother to Ratched, although he is a full grown adult and is not permanently committed. His character is something I personally relate to when it comes to assertion and confidence. In my writing I wanted to create a descriptive scene and show the amount that could go on in Billy’s mind as a character yet still preserve the very limited he speaks about due to his reservations. Billy is thinking a lot but not talking much.