Pipeline

by Dominique Morisseau

  (A knock on the door.)

  Yo, I got company—lemme call you back. I got more bitchin’ to do. That was only half.

  (She hangs up the phone. Goes to the door.

  Fuck. It’s Nya. She looks distressed.)

  NYA: Jasmine.

  JASMINE: Hi … … …

  NYA: Can we talk?

  JASMINE: Okay … … …

  (Jasmine steps aside. Nya enters.)

  NYA: I came up to get Omari.

  JASMINE: I figured that.

  NYA: He was supposed to be here. With his things. Meet him downstairs. But he’s not here. Not in his room. Nowhere.

  JASMINE: Really?

  NYA: You know where he might be?

  JASMINE: Sorry, Miss Joseph. I don’t know.

  NYA: Are you sure?

  JASMINE: I’m sure.

  NYA: Did you see him at all today?

  JASMINE: Earlier. I … I saw him earlier.

  NYA: And did he seem—upset? Was he himself or …

  JASMINE: I know what happened. I mean, I wasn’t there. Didn’t see him actually put his hands on … … … But I was informed. I was in class at the time. He was having a bad day, I think.

  NYA: A bad day?

  JASMINE: Sometimes somebody mess with you on the wrong day … it’s like THEY don’t know it’s your last straw. But they ain’t seen how many times you been sucked of everything you got. They go pickin’ at you like lint and be lookin’ surprised when you knock ’em flat the hell out.

  NYA: Jasmine.

  JASMINE: Yes.

  NYA: He’s my only son. You know?

  JASMINE: I know.

  NYA: I don’t … I’m not here to hurt him. I’m here because I love him, and I want to help make things all right. You understand that?

  JASMINE: ’Course I do.

  NYA: So, I need your help.

  JASMINE: Miss, I don’t know.

  NYA: Okay. I hear that. It’s just … you’re the one he talks to the most. Did you know that?

  JASMINE: Am I?

  NYA: Absolutely. The most. And if anybody … if he would tell anyone his plans … more than anyone in the world. It’d be …

  JASMINE: Me?

  NYA: Exactly.

  JASMINE (Almost proudly): Wow. That’s real.

  NYA: Jasmine, I don’t want to make a big deal of this to the school right now. He was supposed to get his things and be waiting for me downstairs. This is our normal routine. His counselor left him to go and pack his bags. And now, no Omari. If I ask the school, they’re going to sound the alarm. Make more of a problem. And then whatever trouble Omari is in, he’ll be faced with more. You understand?

  JASMINE: God, Ms. Joseph. They are unreasonable.

  NYA: Okay. What does that mean?

  JASMINE: He’s not a criminal.

  NYA: I know that, Jasmine. I don’t think he’s a criminal either. I just want to know where he is.

  JASMINE: Sometimes people push you too far. Make you feel like an animal from another jungle. Like you don’t belong even when you’re here. Cuz they got expectations that you of the wild. So you become the expectation. But it ain’t born in you, know what I’m sayin’. It ain’t what you want to be. It’s what you become. That’s the crazy of Fernbrook.

  NYA: Jasmine.

  JASMINE: He’s my heart, Miss J. I love him.

  NYA: Then tell me where he went.

  JASMINE: I ain’t no snitch.

  NYA: Snitch?

  JASMINE: I still come from what I come from. This place don’t change that.

  NYA: Jasmine, you know where he went.

  JASMINE: Not exactly anyway.

  NYA: What … what does that even … what does that mean?

  JASMINE: I got ideas. If I’m in his head right. But I don’t know nothin’ for sure.

  NYA: Give me some ideas.

  JASMINE: I can’t do that. Don’t ask me. Please, Miss. I’m not his betrayer.

  NYA: His betrayer?!?

  (Nya breathes. Composes herself.)

  I’m … trying here, Jasmine. To be calm. I’m trying not to unravel. Unleash.

  JASMINE: I don’t wanna see you unleash.

  NYA: I know you think you’re being … This isn’t an act of loyalty. Not for real. In your head, maybe. But not in reality. In reality, you’re sentencing him to … … … I need to find him.

  JASMINE: You look real stressed, Miss.

  NYA: I’m very stressed. He’s my son.

  JASMINE: I understand. I know what it feels like to love him hard. Believe me.

  NYA: Do you.

  JASMINE: I mean his unpredictability is manic. It’s excruciating sometimes. Like nails going straight through the heart muscle. But inside, you know he’s like an infant needing some kinda nurture. And there’s a sweetness to him that make you wanna give it. Make you wanna give up everything to hold him tight.

  NYA: Jasmine, this is not helping.

  JASMINE: Did you ever like me, Miss?

  NYA: What?

  JASMINE: When I’d come over. You hardly ever really … it’s like you was polite but not nice. I know the difference.

  NYA: I don’t see what this has to do with—

  JASMINE: I’m not trying to grill you or nothin’. I was always just curious. Like if I did something wrong I didn’t know about. Sat in your favorite chair once or drank the last of some juice I didn’t know was near empty. Like if it was some action of mine or just my presence alone. I would understand either way. I just always wondered.

  NYA: Jasmine, I don’t dislike you.

  JASMINE: Yeah, but you don’t like me either, right? I mean, “I don’t dislike you” … that’s like passive-aggressive, sorta. It’s not committing to loving or hating. It’s almost worse. Like indifferent.

  NYA: I … don’t know you well enough to … It’s hard to like someone you don’t know beyond a few hellos.

  JASMINE: Someone smart and cute—most days.

  NYA: Still someone you don’t really know.

  JASMINE: Someone with a heart so big the sky couldn’t hold it.

  NYA: Someone I’m sure is great in her own way.

  JASMINE: Someone definitely great in every way.

  NYA: Okay, sure.

  JASMINE: But someone also dating your son.

  NYA: My only son.

  JASMINE: Exactly. Like the way you just said that. That was kinda like … I mean that was almost a threat.

  NYA: A—what do you mean?

  JASMINE: Like—and excuse my language please—but it was like: Yeah, bitch, that’s my only son and you trying to take him from me or whatever.

  NYA:

  …

  …

  …

  JASMINE: I said excuse my language please. I hope you heard that part.

  NYA: I heard that part.

  JASMINE: Okay.

  (Pause.)

  NYA: Jasmine, do you have any brothers or sisters?

  JASMINE: This like a bonding question? Or an interrogation question?

  NYA: Whatever kind comes with an answer.

  JASMINE: I’m an only child. Like O. We connect that way.

  NYA: I see.

  JASMINE: But I have one older cousin and one younger. Both boys. They like brothers to me sometimes.

  NYA: You ever know what it’s like to care for them? As a woman? Worrying about what can happen to them when they leave out into the world every day?

  JASMINE: Um … they just my cousins, so …

  NYA: It’s a gamble, Jasmine. All the time. You send your young man out into the world every day, or away for a weekend. A semester. A school year. But you don’t know … you have no idea if they’re safe. You have no idea if one day someone will try to expire them because they are too young. Or too black. Or too threatening. Or too loud. Or too uninformed. Or too angry. Or too quiet. Or too everyday. Or too cool. Or too uncomposed. Or too mysterious. Or just too TOO. You don’t know, Jasmine. And it’s frightening. It leaves a tremble in your
heart on a daily. And if someone could ease that tremble by unveiling just a little piece of the puzzle … It would mean everything. You know what I’m—You get me?

  JASMINE: Men are a puzzle, straight up. I get you.

  NYA: I know you want to protect Omari. I know you care about him deeply.

  JASMINE: So deep I got indigestion over him.

  NYA: But keeping his whereabouts a secret. That is not helping him. You hear me? Not even a little bit.

  JASMINE: What you gonna do if you know? Go follow him? Convince him not to do something he set his mind to? You really think that’s possible?

  NYA: I wouldn’t be worth my salt as a mother if I didn’t.

  JASMINE: Miss Joseph, I know you think maybe I’m not good enough for your son. My parents think nobody’s good enough for me. I get it. Nobody’s good enough for nobody. But me and Omari, we got something real and even if you think I’m worthless, I’m still gonna love him.

  NYA: I don’t think you’re worth—

  JASMINE: Nah, you do. You don’t want to, but you do. I can smell when I don’t make sense to somebody. I make you afraid. Just like O makes my parents afraid. It’s like you send us here to become these different people. You want us to have so much and you want to protect us from ourselves. You love us and we know that. But you hate us too. You hate us having a mind of our own. You hate that we can’t be exactly what you imagined in your head. And that scares you. That we don’t belong to you. That someone can come along and we might love them more than we love you. You hate us for that. We can feel it inside and it will make us leave and never come back.

  (A moment.

  Nya moves closer to Jasmine. Almost threateningly close.)

  NYA (A chilling tone): Where. Is. My. Son.

  JASMINE:

  …

  …

  …

  (Jasmine and Nya have both nearly stopped breathing. They stare into each other.)

  JASMINE:

  …

  …

  …

  NYA (Threateningly): Jasmine.

  JASMINE: Maybe the train station.

  …

  …

  Or the bus.

  NYA: To go where.

  JASMINE: Didn’t say. But he said it was goodbye.

  NYA: Someone come to pick him up?

  JASMINE: Caught a ride with Brian. He told the counselor he was coming up to pack his clothes. They let him go and he …

  …

  …

  Snuck out with Brian.

  (Nya gasps.

  Another audible failure.)

  I tried to convince him not to go. To stick out his fate like a man. But he … didn’t want to be a burden no more. To you.

  (Nya’s breathing accelerates.)

  NYA: Why would he—

  JASMINE: They videoed him, Miss. It’s gonna go viral. Somebody already sent me a text.

  NYA: Jesus.

  JASMINE: He thought he’d bring so much shame. He thought he’d ruin you.

  NYA: And he didn’t mention a place? I need to know now. I need to know.

  JASMINE: I’m telling you everything I know. Betrayal all day.

  NYA: Think for a minute. I need to know before I leave. I need to know if he mentioned any other place.

  JASMINE: I told you what I know for sure.

  (Nya eyes Jasmine’s bags of clothes. Registers them for the first time.)

  NYA: You planning to go home early for the weekend?

  JASMINE: Hunh? Um …

  …

  …

  NYA: Jasmine. Do not bullshit me. You planning to meet him somewhere?

  JASMINE: I was plannin’ on … searching.

  NYA: Searching where?

  JASMINE: The train station. The buses. I swear that’s it. I don’t have nothin’ else. He kept sayin’ he had to do this on his own. Had money from his father. Child support stash. Said he would be okay.

  NYA: Has he called or text you?

  JASMINE: No. I wish, but no.

  (Nya walks close to Jasmine again.)

  NYA: Listen to me. Listen. If he calls, texts, gets online, or does anything to reach you, you call me immediately. You understand me?

  JASMINE: He won’t, Miss. You’re cut out and so am I.

  NYA: Just do what I say.

  (Nya storms out.)

  6

  Nya’s living room. Darkness except for one lamp.

  Nya smokes a cigarette. Pours herself a drink. She is sleepless.

  Donny Hathaway plays. Nya sips and smokes, interchangeably.

  The door rattles. She sits up, alert. The door takes a minute to open. Finally it does.

  In walks Omari.

  NYA:

  …

  …

  …

  OMARI: I’m back, Ma.

  NYA: …

  …

  I see.

  OMARI: I um …

  …

  …

  NYA: Where’ve you been?

  OMARI: With some friends.

  NYA: Friends.

  OMARI: Was tryin’ to catch a bus over to Philly.

  NYA: Philly? What were you gonna … Philly???

  OMARI: My boy Rashad. Got a small crib there. From when his father passed. Said he had a couch … … …

  NYA: So that’s the plan, hunh? Run off and not face any of this. Leave me here to deal with the mess. That’s the plan?

  OMARI: It was somethin’. Don’t know ’bout a plan.

  NYA: Well what happened? Plan go awry?

  OMARI: Naw I just …

  …

  …

  (Omari fights the urge to cry.)

  I don’t know, Ma. I just came back.

  NYA: I see.

  (A moment of silence.)

  OMARI: You been smokin’.

  NYA: You’ve been fighting.

  OMARI: I—

  …

  …

  You wanna hear? Or you even care.

  NYA: Don’t do that, Omari.

  OMARI: Do what?

  NYA: Ask if I care. Put this on me. Deflect. That is not going to float right now.

  OMARI: I’m not trying to deflect, Ma. I’m askin’ if you care to hear or if you prefer not to hear cuz maybe the details won’t make it better right now.

  NYA: I always care.

  OMARI: I’m not saying you don’t.

  NYA: Then yes. Tell me the gory details. I want to know what devil got into your hands and made you attack your teacher.

  OMARI: You don’t understand, Ma.

  NYA: Make me.

  OMARI: I wanna start by sayin’ I’m not justifying. There is no way to—I’m not justifying. But everything I say now is just the how. You know? The how and why. But not the excuse. I’m not making none of those no more. I’m done.

  NYA: So give me the how.

  OMARI: I couldn’t see straight. That’s what I know for sure. It’s like I went blind for a second. No insight and no outer. I was just trying to get through the week.

  NYA: What blinded you, Omari?

  OMARI: He kept questioning me. In class.

  NYA: Questioning you how?

  OMARI: Didn’t feel like being bothered. I said that to him, Ma. I told him I wasn’t in the mood for being questioned.

  NYA: Omari, he’s your teacher. He has the right—

  OMARI: Nah … he don’t. Not how he was doin’ it. Been doin’ it a lot and I was sick of it. We get to discussing the reading. Native Son—Richard Wright. And he start asking questions. What made Bigger Thomas kill that woman? What were his social limitations? What made the animal in him explode? And who he lookin’ at when he askin’ all these questions, Ma. Who he lookin’ at?

  NYA: Omari.

  OMARI: Like I’m the spokesperson. Like I’m Bigger Thomas. Like I’m predisposed or some shit to knowing what it’s like to be an animal.

  NYA: Omari, watch your mouth.

  OMARI: You hear me though? You hear what he doin’? He st
art picking me out. Askin’ me to answer. What did I discover when reading the text.

  NYA: He’s your teacher. He’s supposed to ask you about the text, Omari!

  OMARI: Nah, he ain’t. He ain’t just questionin’ me about Native Son. He ain’t just talkin’ text. He sayin’ somethin’ else. Something beneath the question and it’s like I’m the only one who can hear it.

  NYA: That doesn’t give you the right to lose your cool, Omari. That doesn’t give you the right to be the animal.

  OMARI: But it’s all he seein’. Won’t leave me alone. I said, Mr. don’t pick on me today. I ain’t got nothin’ to offer. But he won’t leave me alone.

  NYA: A teacher is supposed to engage you. Even when you don’t feel like it. That’s the teacher’s job. I’ve told you that repeatedly.

  OMARI: We not talking a teacher doin’ their job. We talkin’ provoking. We talkin’ agitating. We talkin’ singling me out. You know that, Ma? On a day where … Where I don’t FEEL like being singled out. We talkin’ respecting my space.

  NYA: You’re in SCHOOL. You’re not in your personal space. You’re in a collective space. A space to engage and be questioned and be stimulated and be provoked. That is education, Omari.

  OMARI: I’m talkin’ biased education, Ma. I’m talkin’ disrespect. He knows. He knows he wasn’t … … … he was sayin’ somethin’. Asking me. In that room. In that way. In front of all those students. On THAT issue. He was sayin’ somethin’ directly to me. I know he was.

  NYA: Even IF he was, even if … what are you telling me? You telling me that makes you attack him? You’re trying to draw some perpendicular line here? I’m not seeing where these things cross.

  OMARI: I told him to back off.

  NYA: You said that already.

  OMARI: I told him, Ma. And he kept digging.

  NYA: And then???

  OMARI: And then he says, Mr. Joseph, your perspective is mandatory here. Tell the class your perspective, or take a zero for the day.

  NYA: Still not seeing.

  OMARI: You threaten my grades. You threaten to punish me in front of the class because I don’t want to be your token responder. That’s bullshit.