(The room is richly furnished, and it is filled with evidence of life; the expensive leather furniture is worn in places, scratched in others. There are unidentifiable stains on the exquisite Persian rugs. The fireplace has a few charred logs in it still- there is a large chunk of the mantle missing, and scratches in the wall around it. There are three ceiling to floor windows, with heavy dark blue velvet drapes. They are drawn, but a little light escapes around the edges- there are ceiling track lights casting a bright glow on the occupants of the room; a single candle is lit on the table. Along one wall is a sideboard covered in liquor, the expensive kind that you never see in the bottle, only in elegant crystal caraffes. There are three glasses lined up there, two empty and with lipstick stains, and one half-full with a chipped stem. The sideboard has teeth marks on it. The WIFE and MISTRESS sit on either sides of the room, in identical chairs in the foreground. They are staring at each other, not saying anything. The SON reclines on the couch, his eyes closed. The HALF-BROTHER paces restlessly, practically vibrating with barely suppressed energy. The DAUGHTER-IN-LAW sits in a straight backed chair, behind the others. She stares at her hands.)

MISTRESS (standing suddenly): Look at us. Look at us!
(She is wearing gray; her hair is very curly and very blonde, but at the moment it is tied back in a bun. She is wearing no make-up, and it is obvious from the redness of her eyes that she has been crying. Apparently, she is the only one.)

WIFE (lazily): What's there to look at?

MISTRESS: We're such- such an overdone cliche! The wife, the children, the lover, all waiting outside his bedroom, waiting, waiting, waiting-

WIFE: Waiting for him to die.

MISTRESS: Stop it! How can you just sit there like that and just-

WIFE (sharply): Do stop making a scene. This is hardly the time or the place for it.
(The MISTRESS sits down suddenly and buries her head in her hands. The WIFE smiles a tight-lipped smile.)
It won't be long now. Then you can cry all you like, and everyone will see you and say "Look at her, see how she carries on. I wonder how much she's getting from him- must not be enough, why else would she go on, and on-"

HALF-BROTHER: Shut up.
(The DAUGHTER-IN-LAW flinches when he speaks, and her shoulders slump even further.)

WIFE: You belong here even less than her. If there's anyone here who should be silent, it's you. (snidely) There are three people in this room who belong here, and the claim of one of those three is shaky at best. (She glances pointedly at the DAUGHTER-IN-LAW, who doesn't notice.) So sit down and stop making a nuisance of yourself.

MISTRESS: Don't speak to him like that!

WIFE (standing): Why not? l'll speak however I want to whomever I want in my own house! Who are you to tell me what to do?

MISTRESS: Your house? Your house- oh, that's a good one! Why did you marry him? (standing) Why? Tell your own son, why don't you, why you married his father. Tell us all, why don't you. (savagely) This isn't your house- it never was.

WIFE (angrily): I beg your pardon.

MISTRESS (suddenly hysteric, she rushes across the room and slaps the WIFE and starts shouting): YOU NEVER LOVED HIM! Never! All you ever cared about was his money, that's all and you never gave a damn, not once about him. You _never_ loved him!

WIFE (ignoring her red cheek, she just stares at the MISTRESS): (quietly, smugly) And he never loved you.
(The MISTRESS puts her hand to her mouth in shock, and stumbles back to her chair. The HALF-BROTHER looks from the WIFE to the MISTRESS and back again and finally goes to stand beside his mother. He places his hand on her shoulder and glares at the WIFE, who smiles and sits back down.)

SON (eyes still closed, still reclining on the couch): Shut up, all of you. (HALF-BROTHER opens his mouth. SON raises one hand and points at him without opening eyes.) _All_ of you.

WIFE: Oh, don't start. Go back to sleep- you're the one I was talking about, anyway. There's no point in your being here- there's no point in any of your being here-

MISTRESS: Especially you.

WIFE (as though she hadn't been interrupted): And you all may as well just go home. He won't die tonight, the old fool is too stubborn to let us off easy.

DAUGHTER-IN-LAW: (very quietly) Stop it.

WIFE: She speaks! And here I was thinking my son ripped out your vocal chords.

DAUGHTER-IN-LAW: (still staring at her hands, now trembling slightly) Oh, he tried that.

WIFE: But he failed. I'm not surprised.

DAUGHTER: Haven't you said enough? (looking up) Don't you think its about time you just put it all to rest and moved on?

MISTRESS: She's having too much fun, can't you tell?

DAUGHTER: You're right. (louder) Look at you- all of you. You're pitiful.
(The SON opens his eyes and sits up, slowly. The DAUGHTER-IN-LAW stands up and walks as far away from him as possible, to stand beside the sideboard.) Do any of you even care that he's dying in that room, all alone? That maybe, just maybe this might be the time to stop thinking about yourselves and have, for just ONE MINUTE some respect for the dying?

SON (ironically): You're one to talk about respect, wife.

HALF-BROTHER (moving away from the MISTRESS to stand beside the DAUGHTER-IN-LAW. She turns to face the wall, away from all of them.): Leave her alone. It was your own fault you know. If you hadn't been such a-

MISTRESS: Oh, for God's sake, can we all stop getting so hung up on who slept with who? That's what started this whole mess in the beginning- we're all too selfish and self-absorbed to give a damn about anything but ourselves and look where it's gotten us! Look at us!