Pipeline

by Dominique Morisseau

  NYA: Did you also cuss like that? Or are you reserving that disrespect for me personally?

  OMARI: I’m sorry. I’m just amped. Making a point.

  NYA: You haven’t made a point yet. You haven’t given any indication for how your behavior was warranted. You haven’t done anything but speak as if you’re above reproach. And you’re NOT.

  OMARI: Forget it, Ma.

  NYA: No, let’s not forget it.

  OMARI: No, LET’S. I knew you wouldn’t … … … I knew this was futile.

  NYA: This is your third strike, Omari. The worst one. You put your hands on your teacher! You attacked your teacher.

  OMARI: I pushed him! I didn’t attack.

  NYA: You think they care about your semantics?!

  OMARI: I pushed him and he fell against the board.

  NYA: You slammed your teacher against the board.

  OMARI: Now THAT’S some semantics.

  NYA: And it’s been recorded by students. No one is going to see anything different. Do you understand that?

  OMARI: I tried to get up and leave. He wouldn’t let me leave. That’s unreasonable. I told him I wasn’t in the mood. I told him!

  NYA: They don’t care about your mood!

  OMARI: Exactly! They don’t care, Ma. They don’t care what space and place I’m in. I know me. I know how to learn. I know when I’m good and when I’m not. And I said it. I’m not good. I said that.

  NYA: Then you ask for permission to be excused. You say you need to speak to your counselor, immediately. You don’t just walk out in the middle of a lesson as if you are some sort of king or god that no one can tame.

  OMARI: Tame?

  NYA: Damnit, Omari.

  OMARI: Tame.

  NYA: Do not do that. Do not twist and remodel this convo and change the meaning.

  OMARI: I’m not changing anything. I’m repeating. Verbatim.

  (Pause. Nya takes a breath.)

  NYA: So why are you here?

  OMARI: Hunh?

  NYA: What’d you come back here for? Had nowhere else to go?

  OMARI: I just …

  …

  …

  Ain’t wanna leave that way.

  NYA: So what is this? This is our goodbye? You coming to tell me goodbye?

  OMARI: Ma …

  NYA: You dropping out? Leaving school? A school your father and I vetted for you. A school that was supposed to—

  OMARI: Give me all these opportunities. Make me a better man than I’d be if I just went to your school. If I just stayed here. In our neighborhood. (Pause) Don’t give me his speech, Ma. Those is his words, not yours.

  NYA: Your father thought it’d be best—

  OMARI: Better than staying with him. “Omari just ain’t survivin’ in this neighborhood. He’s too smart and could be something, Nya. But not in this hood. Let’s send him upstate and out of both of our hair.” That’s what my father thought. That’s where his money is going.

  NYA: Don’t DO that. Don’t speak for him or me or us. Don’t interpret. You’re lost in translation.

  OMARI: I’m not lost.

  NYA: You are. Shit. You are.

  (Beat. Omari walks over to his mother for the first time. He takes the cigarette out of her hands.)

  OMARI: Gonna kill yourself with these.

  (For a moment, Nya doesn’t move. She allows her son to dictate the space. He cleans up her drink. Puts the cap on a half-finished bottle of wine.)

  You celebrating my disappearance?

  NYA: Omari—

  OMARI: Not funny. I know. But it’s like … like a homegoing or somethin’ up in here. I ain’t die, Ma.

  (A gasp. Nya exhales against her will. Talk of his death can do that to her. He notices.)

  Sorry.

  (Pause.)

  We should, um … get food or somethin’, right? I’m starved and … … …

  …

  …

  I’ll cook us some pasta.

  (Nya walks over to Omari. She grabs his face.)

  NYA: What did I do? Tell me.

  OMARI: Ma, don’t do this.

  NYA: I need to know. If I hurt you … if I misstepped. If I forgot too much or didn’t know enough …

  OMARI: Ma, this ain’t you.

  NYA: I have tried … like religiously … like an ongoing prayer … to protect you. I have tried to buffer you from it all. Tried to flee you and free you. Follow instructions from your father. From other mothers. From my own mother. From whomever. And I still don’t … … … I don’t have the answer.

  OMARI (Shaky): What you want me to say?

  NYA: They could press charges.

  OMARI: What you want me to say?

  NYA: They could take you from me and I wouldn’t be able to stop them.

  OMARI: I don’t know what you want me to say. I just … … … I don’t know what.

  NYA: I want instructions.

  OMARI:

  …

  NYA: I will take a bullet for you. I will suffocate the sun for you. I will steal the sky for you. I will blind Moses for you. I will strip the wind and the rain and the forests for you. Before I let you die or rot or lose your freedom, I will surrender my own. You know that? I would die if you could be born again without this oppressive rage. I just … I don’t know what to do. I need you to tell me. Tell me how to save you. Tell me how to give you another life. Tell me what will take this failure away. Because I have listened to everyone else. I’m ready to listen to you. Guide me. Give me the answer. Just give it to me and I’ll do it. I swear.

  OMARI (With heartbreak): Ma …

  …

  …

  I don’t …

  …

  (Omari falls silent.

  Nya stares into his face. Touching him gently. It is too much for him.

  He pushes her away.)

  I’m hungry. Gonna cook us somethin’. You gonna eat?

  (He walks toward the kitchen.)

  NYA: I’m going to sit here. And wait for instructions.

  (Omari turns away, and goes into the kitchen.

  Nya clings to sanity.)

  7

  Images of school-day disruption: kids walking through metal detectors; teenagers smoking weed on the steps of school or somewhere nearby; teen couples up against a wall kissing, in a stairwell getting intimate, etc.

  Omari’s voice as the images run. He is in undefined space.

  OMARI:

  We real cool. We

  Left school. We

  Lurk late. We

  Strike straight …

  We … We … We … We …

  Strike

  Strike

  Strike

  Strike …

  (Lights cross-fade from Omari to Nya.

  She is in a classroom, checking papers. It is lunch period. Over the PA system:)

  PA: Ms. Joseph, please call the main office. You have a visitor. Thank you.

  (Nya rises from her desk and goes to a wall phone. She dials and listens.)

  NYA: Hey, Hasselhoff, it’s Joseph. Yes. He is? Really? (Pause) Um, shit. Shoot. Yes, send him up. Thanks.

  (Nya takes a breath. She fixes her hair. Puts on some blush. Goes for a cigarette. Bad idea. Puts pack away and sprays freshener.

  A knock at the classroom door.

  Nya takes another revealing breath.

  Okay. Now. Go.)

  Come in!

  (Xavier enters. He is handsome and well groomed.)

  XAVIER: Hi, Nya.

  NYA: Hi, Xavier.

  XAVIER: Sorry to stop by during school hours. They said this was your free period. I didn’t get your message until this morning. Lost my phone yesterday. Had a million clients to track down. Marketing accounts went crazy—

  NYA: It’s fine.

  XAVIER: I just took a half day. Left the firm and came straight down here.

  NYA: Okay.

  XAVIER: Can we talk about what’s going on?

  NYA: Yeah. Sure. Okay.

/>   XAVIER: He hit a teacher?

  NYA: Pushed him. Into the smartboard.

  XAVIER: Jesus. Why?

  NYA: I’m not sure. He was upset. Said he was having a bad day.

  XAVIER: A bad day?

  NYA: Said he felt harassed by the teacher. More than the other students. He felt targeted and wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

  XAVIER: That’s no excuse.

  NYA: I told him that.

  XAVIER: Where is he now?

  NYA: Home. I think—home.

  XAVIER: You think?

  NYA: I—yes. I left him at home. He’s suspended. They’re going to deliberate and decide whether to expel him. And also press charges. That’s where we are. Letting it cool over the weekend. I’m hoping some of the steam will blow off and they’ll be more lenient.

  XAVIER: This is his third strike.

  NYA: Yes it is.

  XAVIER: They’re not going to be lenient with a third strike.

  NYA: I’m just hoping. He says he didn’t slam the teacher. But on the video, I think it looks like—

  XAVIER: Video?

  NYA: Yes.

  XAVIER: There’s video?

  NYA: The kids. Phones.

  XAVIER: How did they … … … I thought phones weren’t even allowed …

  NYA: They’re not.

  XAVIER: Then how in the hell … … … They’re gonna use that against him.

  NYA: He wanted to run away. He tried to run away.

  XAVIER: This all happen yesterday???

  NYA: I tried to call.

  XAVIER: My phone. Shit.

  NYA: Yeah.

  XAVIER: I give you Sheila’s number?

  NYA: I don’t recall …

  XAVIER: I’ll give you her number. Next time you can’t reach me, call her. She’ll reach me.

  NYA (Not a pleasant thought): Yeah. Okay.

  XAVIER: Damn, O. How did it get to this? How did he get this far over the line?

  NYA: I don’t know.

  XAVIER: He say anything to you? Give you any answers?

  (Nya laughs to herself. Incredulous at this line of questioning.)

  Something funny?

  NYA: You think he gives me answers?

  XAVIER: I’m just asking. He ought to. He’s supposed to answer to you. He’s your son.

  NYA: He’s your son too.

  XAVIER: I know that, I—(Taken aback) What … what is that?

  NYA: What’s what?

  XAVIER: That just felt like … a little bit of … accusation …

  NYA: I didn’t do that.

  XAVIER: No???

  NYA: No.

  XAVIER: Okay.

  NYA: Okay.

  XAVIER: Because we said we wouldn’t do that.

  NYA: We’re not.

  XAVIER: Co-parenting.

  NYA: Yes exactly.

  XAVIER: Not a blame game.

  NYA: No one’s blaming.

  XAVIER: Okay.

  NYA: It just sounded like …

  XAVIER: Yeah?

  NYA: You said, “He’s your son.”

  XAVIER: Yeah but mine wasn’t—

  NYA: It just sounded like.

  XAVIER: I’m talking about him. You’re his mother. I’m saying he’s the son. He should be giving answers when he’s questioned. He’s the son.

  NYA: Yes. Right okay. But you said he’s my son. Not THE son.

  XAVIER: I meant THE son.

  NYA: Okay.

  (Pause.)

  XAVIER: I’m thinking … … … I’m thinking he needs a change. A big one.

  NYA: Yes.

  XAVIER: Maybe he should come stay with me.

  NYA: You and Sheila.

  XAVIER: Sheila still has her own place. That’s … that’s not what it’ll be like.

  NYA: I don’t know about that.

  XAVIER: It’s important. Maybe they won’t press charges if we … … … if we tell them that we are changing his circumstances. I’ll pull him out of Fernbrook. He’ll get enrolled in the school in my neighborhood.

  NYA: Or he can go here.

  XAVIER: Here?

  NYA: Yes here. Where I teach. And have been doing so for over a decade.

  XAVIER: Not here.

  NYA: There are some good teachers here.

  XAVIER: The school is failing, Nya.

  NYA: Was failing. Not anymore. They divided us into four different sections. We’ve been doing much better. And that’s about student accountability and the school board. That’s not the staff here. Not all of us. There’re some good teachers here. He knows them. He’ll be comfortable. He’ll be here and under my watch.

  XAVIER: You can’t watch him all day.

  NYA: Neither can you.

  XAVIER: But I can give him a better surrounding.

  NYA: Better.

  XAVIER: Don’t do that. I’m not making judgments. Let’s not make it about that. Let’s keep it about O.

  NYA: It is about O.

  XAVIER: You do what you can. I know that. I’m not suggesting you’ve done anything wrong. But you resist … you and him … the offers I make. I’m not—You can be proud. You can ride or die for this hood all you want. That’s good for you. But that’s not good for our son.

  NYA: And you know? You know what’s best? Sending him away to Fernbrook … it didn’t stop the rage. You can’t solve him from the outside in. Don’t you see that?

  XAVIER: What does that mean? Outside in? I’m working with the parts I get, Nya. That’s all I get access to. He doesn’t let me in. That doesn’t mean I’m not still active. I work from whatever way he dictates. He always dictates. But he’s the son.

  NYA: Our son.

  XAVIER: And he can’t always be the dictator. It can’t always be a democracy. Sometimes we have to—and I try but you … … … it’s like we’re running two different governments.

  NYA: I thought it was co-parenting.

  XAVIER: Sometimes it’s time—and I’m not saying you don’t do your part—but I’m the man. Not you. And he needs a firmer hand.

  NYA: That isn’t / blame?

  XAVIER: Maybe not always have a choice in the matter. Maybe he’s had too many damn choices and he doesn’t know how to follow a leader. He thinks it’s him. But where is he going?

  NYA: And you don’t think a firm hand will make him suffocate? You think I’m too loose so he’s slipping down the pipe? Which grip is best? Please show me. Please. Show. Me.

  XAVIER: You always have to do this.

  NYA: Do what?

  XAVIER: Make this personal. Make parenting our son a personal battle between you and I.

  NYA (Correcting him): It IS between you and ME. We made him.

  XAVIER (Defying her correction): It’s not you and I. It’s you and him. Me and him. Us and him. That’s the deal. You and I without him does not exist.

  NYA: Ouch.

  XAVIER: No. Not ouch. You don’t get to say ouch.

  NYA: I don’t get to be hurt? I can’t feel pain?

  XAVIER: No. You don’t get to do that.

  NYA: Okay. That’s fair. It was partly my fault—

  XAVIER: I’m not looking backwards.

  NYA: I’m not asking you to.

  XAVIER: You broke this. Not me. YOU. (Pause. Catches breath) I’m moving on and that doesn’t make me a bad father.

  NYA: I didn’t say it did.

  XAVIER: You also didn’t tell our son who the real villain is. And he thinks it’s me.

  NYA: I never let him think you’re the enemy.

  XAVIER: He thinks it anyway. And now he won’t hardly listen to me … won’t respect me anymore.

  NYA: That’s not on me. I never … … … I never bad-talk you. If you’re upset with me because of … … … That’s fine. That’s fair. But you and him and whatever is broken—that is not me.

  XAVIER: Then let him come. Let him live with me. Give me that authority.

  NYA: I haven’t any to give you. You think forcing him is going to save him, then do it. You
want to dictate, try it. You’ll have a great rebellion on your hands.

  XAVIER: I can handle rebellion. It’s you. You’re the barricade. When you resist, he can sniff it. And then I become the enemy.

  (A moment of surrender.)

  NYA: I won’t resist.

  XAVIER: I’ll talk to the school. On Monday. First thing. That’s what I’ll do. Pull him out of school and ask them not to press charges.

  NYA: Maybe they’ll listen.

  XAVIER: And then he comes with me. That’s the deal. That’s how we fix this. You agree?

  (Nya falls silent. Takes a breath. Deep and painful.)

  NYA: How did we get here?

  XAVIER: Ask yourself.

  NYA (A painful admission): I miss you.

  (Xavier feels her words, but he is effective in his masking.)

  XAVIER: I can’t—

  NYA: I know.

  (Pause.)

  XAVIER: Do we have a deal?

  NYA: He will hate us both.

  XAVIER: Or maybe just you this time.

  NYA: If it saves his life, I’ll be the Devil.

  XAVIER: Okay.

  NYA: But we wait. Until Monday. Until I can tell him myself. Until I can effectively release him.

  XAVIER: You call me before you do. I want to be on my way. I want him to have nowhere to disappear to. You understand?

  NYA: This is a deal.

  (She holds out her hands. Xavier looks at them. Hesitates.

  He finally takes them. It is not really a handshake. It is the closest thing to holding each other.

  An elongated moment. Time disappears.

  Then finally … a school bell sounds.

  Xavier pulls away from Nya.

  He walks out of the classroom.

  Nya gasps audibly.

  The fluorescent lights dance wickedly.

  Shift.)

  8

  Laurie and Dun in the teachers’ lounge.

  LAURIE: Don’t tell me that shit. That’s bullshit.

  DUN: You think it’s my fault?

  LAURIE: Don’t tell me you came as fast as you could.

  DUN: Laurie, that wasn’t me. Okay? I did what I could.

  LAURIE: I CALLED. I fucking called and you didn’t answer. What do you want me to wait forever? Let them bust their heads wide open? On my watch? I’m supposed to stand back and watch?