Pipeline

by Dominique Morisseau

  DUN: You didn’t call right away.

  LAURIE: Fuck you.

  DUN: You didn’t. That’s what the kids are saying.

  LAURIE: Fuck what the kids are saying!

  (Nya enters the teachers’ lounge.)

  Ask any teacher over here. Ask Nya. She’ll tell you. It’s bullshit.

  NYA: You two all right?

  LAURIE: Do I look all right?

  DUN: Laurie’s fifth period. DeShawn and Hakeem got in a fight.

  NYA: No, again?

  LAURIE: You hear that?

  DUN: What do you want me to do about that?

  LAURIE: She said “again.” That means these two have an ongoing beef. It’s like the fucking Crips and the Bloods in my classroom. These kids are at war. You want me to watch them drop grenades and pretend that shit isn’t lethal???

  DUN: I didn’t make up the policy.

  LAURIE: Not protect the civilians???

  NYA: Did Colden give you shit about it?

  LAURIE: Did Colden give me shit about it? Understatement of the year.

  NYA: I can speak to him. Those two have been at it in my room too.

  DUN: That’s not going to help.

  NYA: Why’s it not going to help?

  LAURIE: Because they’re throwing me to the fucking wolves / that’s why.

  DUN: Because you broke protocol.

  LAURIE: There is no protocol in war. There is: Stop Two People From Killing Each Other. That is all.

  DUN: The broom?

  LAURIE: What is it I should’ve chosen instead? Please tell me how an over-the-hill chick is supposed to stop two tall teenage boys with weightlifting muscles and zero body fat from pounding each other into oblivion without some type of force? Please tell me!

  NYA: What happened with the broom?

  LAURIE: I hit DeShawn!

  DUN: She hit DeShawn with a broom.

  LAURIE: To save his fucking life. I mean—is that even a factor? Does that even matter?

  DUN: I’m not saying it do or it don’t. I’m just telling her what went down.

  NYA: Shit Laurie.

  LAURIE: Shit Laurie?

  NYA: Colden knows?

  DUN: DeShawn ran out of the room and straight to the office.

  NYA: Gotdamn.

  DUN: It’s gonna be a tough one. That broom—

  LAURIE: Was all I had.

  NYA: What happened to security?

  DUN: We came—

  LAURIE: —Late

  DUN: —As fast as we could.

  LAURIE: He had him on the floor. Banging his head into the floor. Desks were scattering all over the place. Kids were screaming. I called security and the damn line was busy.

  DUN: We were on the phone with Bekim. He was complaining about a kid who was high in his room.

  LAURIE: And so what the hell is the protocol for busy signal? What am I supposed to do?

  DUN: Stand aside till we get there.

  NYA: That doesn’t always work.

  LAURIE: Of course it doesn’t work. It’s stupid. I’ve got a room full of kids to protect. And myself. I mean what kind of adult just stands there and watches her students fight? What am I supposed to—he was pounding his head into the floor like this. (She demonstrates) Like he would’ve killed him. Hakeem’s head was seconds away from splitting open. And DeShawn was seeing red. I screamed for him to stop but you think he could hear me? He couldn’t hear the voice of God in that moment!

  DUN: I’m just saying what the protocol is. I’m not saying you were wrong.

  LAURIE: Fuck right and fuck wrong. There is only necessary.

  NYA: What’d Colden say?

  LAURIE: He’s talking to the parents. The superintendent. Now all of a sudden everybody who doesn’t know shit about what it’s like to teach in a classroom is going to be my judge and jury.

  NYA: Is there something I can do to help? You need me to talk to DeShawn’s mother?

  LAURIE: She’s the least of my problems. Fucking kids and their camera phones. Is everything a gotdamn YouTube sensation with them?!

  NYA: They didn’t.

  LAURIE: How the hell do they get past security with those phones? Tell me that.

  DUN: It’s back to me again?

  LAURIE: It’s a simple fucking question.

  DUN: Some stuff gets past. It ain’t the airport.

  LAURIE: Could’ve fooled me. What’s a metal detector for if it doesn’t catch all the metal?

  DUN: Cell phones ain’t the metal we’re most interested in. What can I say.

  LAURIE: Don’t say shit. To me. Ever again.

  NYA: Laurie.

  DUN: You keep thinking this is me? You act like I did something wrong. What did I do wrong? Was I not able to answer your call fast enough? When it’s only eight of us working four different schools in one building, did I not reach you fast enough? Did I not run from one hallway to another at a speed that makes you satisfied? I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that while I’m sitting up here, barely breaking minimum wage and dealing with the attitudes of a hundred teens and teachers per minute, that I’m not a suitable servant to your beck and call. I do what I fucking can. I’m not Cox—sitting up here stealing computers from the school lab or Bender—flirting with teenage girls. I’m Dun. I’m the last of the good guys wearing a uniform and greeting kids with a smile when they enter the building. I try to make a sunny day out of shit. And I answer every call I get at the security desk. I do my job, damnit. And this time, Laurie, maybe the job got the better of you. That shit happens. But don’t go taking me down with you. You get in trouble, you get early retirement. You wanna know what I’d get????—I do my damn job.

  LAURIE: Fuck this job! I gave my life to this place. My entire fucking life!

  (Laurie falls into a chair from exhaustion and defeat. A beat.)

  DUN: Look, I’m sorry—

  NYA: It’s not just Laurie. Those boys fight. All the time. I’ve tried everything. Talking to their parents. Splitting them up on opposite sides of the room. I’ve tried to stop it, myself. We’ve all tried.

  DUN: You can’t stop it.

  NYA: Don’t tell me that.

  DUN: How you gonna stop it if you don’t know the source?

  NYA: I’m supposed to know a million and one sources?

  DUN: Gotta know what they carry in them. The resentment and the rage … there’s a legacy in that. Source of those fights is older than the bricks of this building but nobody’s doing they research. You got a bunch of parents. Teachers. Politicians. Whoever. Trying to understand these kids. But how you gonna understand a book you only skimming?

  NYA: I’ve got to understand! My son’s life depends on it. I’ve fucking tried everything!

  LAURIE: Nya, you’re doing what you can. You put him in a good school.

  NYA: It doesn’t matter where I send him to school, nothing’s working! He’s being sucked into this void and I keep trying to hold onto him, but the force is so strong … so magnificent … that I have … to …

  (Lights up on Omari in undefined space.)

  OMARI:

  Strike strike strike

  NYA: Hold on firm or I’ll lose my grip

  OMARI:

  Sing sin sin sin

  NYA: Hang on tight or he’ll start to slip

  OMARI:

  Thin gin gin gin

  NYA: Sacrifice something mightier than my soul

  OMARI:

  Jazz Juuuuuuuuuune …

  NYA: Sacrifice something mighty

  OMARI:

  Weeeee …

  NYA: Sacrifice

  OMARI:

  We … … …

  NYA: Sacri—

  OMARI:

  We …

  NYA: Sac—

  (A moment.)

  DUN: Nya?

  OMARI:

  Weeee …

  LAURIE: Nya, you okay?

  (Nya’s breathing becomes rapid and short. She is the only one who sees Omari.)

  NYA: I …

&nb
sp; OMARI:

  Di—di—di—

  NYA: No.

  OMARI:

  Di—di—di—

  NYA: Don’t.

  LAURIE: You okay?

  NYA: I … (She gasps audibly) I …

  DUN: Nya???

  LAURIE: She’s not breathing.

  DUN: Nya???

  NYA: I can’t—breathe—

  OMARI:

  We die soon.

  (GASP. Nya looks at Omari in terror. She is the only one who can see him. Clutches her heart.)

  LAURIE: Get the nurse. Now.

  (Dun rushes out of the lounge.

  Nya collapses.)

  9

  A hospital. Omari and Dun sit.

  The PA system in this space sounds strangely like the school PA.

  PA: Paging Dr. Roberts at extension 278. Paging Dr. Roberts at extension 278. Thank you.

  (Dun looks at Omari, who taps his foot nervously.)

  DUN: You want something?

  OMARI: I’m good.

  DUN: Sorry about … this.

  OMARI: Yeah.

  DUN: She’ll be okay though. They said.

  OMARI: Yeah.

  DUN: She’s tough. That’s what I always dig about her.

  OMARI: Yeah.

  (Pause.

  Xavier enters. He stops when he sees Omari and Dun. Omari looks at him, suddenly tense.)

  (Under his breath) Pssssh. This nigga.

  (Xavier approaches Omari cautiously.)

  XAVIER: Hey. How’s she holding up? Any word?

  OMARI (Defiant): Psssssh.

  DUN: Just holding her for observation.

  (Xavier looks at Dun with surprise. Who is this guy?)

  XAVIER: I’m sorry?

  DUN: Overnight. They thought it was a heart attack but now they say it looks like a panic disorder. Just gonna monitor her overnight.

  XAVIER: I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were … … … have we met?

  DUN: I’m Dun. Work with her over at the school. Security.

  (Xavier looks at Dun. A flash of dawning comprehension. Recognition. This is him.)

  XAVIER: Ah. I see.

  DUN: You with the family?

  XAVIER: Omari’s my son, yes. I’m … family.

  DUN: Oh okay.

  XAVIER: I’m Nya’s husband. Ex.

  (Dun’s dawning comprehension. Tension.)

  DUN: Ohhhh.

  …

  …

  Okay.

  XAVIER: Okay.

  DUN:

  …

  …

  …

  XAVIER:

  …

  …

  …

  DUN: I should let y’all …

  …

  I’ll go down to the cafeteria. You want anything, O?

  OMARI: I’m / good.

  XAVIER: I got him.

  DUN: …

  …

  Okay. Cool.

  (The tension remains as Dun exits.

  Omari and Xavier. Defiance and silence.)

  XAVIER: You all right?

  OMARI: I’m not the one in the hospital.

  XAVIER: I know that. I just meant … with all this.

  OMARI: Stupid question.

  XAVIER: All right. (Pause) A panic disorder.

  OMARI: That’s the hypothesis. Runnin’ tests now and shit. Make sure it ain’t deeper.

  XAVIER: Thank God she’s okay.

  OMARI: Thank God.

  XAVIER: Might be a long wait. The tests.

  OMARI: I’ll wait. You don’t have to.

  XAVIER: That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to prepare you for … … … these tests take time and …

  OMARI: She’ll be straight. I got her.

  XAVIER: I know you do.

  (Pause.)

  She and I wanted to talk with you.

  OMARI: Words ain’t the medicine right now.

  XAVIER: Still. I wanted to talk with you. Find out about this acting-out at school.

  OMARI: I already pled my case. Gave her the whole one-two. I’m sure she told you.

  XAVIER: I want to hear it from you.

  OMARI: For what?

  XAVIER: Because I deserve to know.

  OMARI: Deserve? Why’s that? Cuz you pay for the education? Am I wasting your money? You want me to pay you back?

  XAVIER: Yeah maybe. Smart-ass. Maybe.

  OMARI: I’ll write you a check. You can cash it when hell freezes over.

  (Xavier grabs Omari by the collar.)

  XAVIER: Don’t talk to me like that! I’m your father, / asshole.

  OMARI: Fuck off me!

  (Omari flinches and jerks out of Xavier’s grasp.

  A moment. They look around the hallway. People are everywhere.

  Xavier is a little ashamed. How does it get this far so fast?

  Omari fumes. Hurt and angry. They sit in silence.)

  XAVIER: Shit.

  (Pause.)

  We gotta work this out.

  OMARI: I’m working my stuff out.

  XAVIER: Nah. With me. We gotta work this out together.

  OMARI: You quit together a long time ago.

  XAVIER: I never quit you.

  OMARI: You quit her. You quit me.

  XAVIER: I didn’t … … … You don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s adult business you aren’t privy to. You need to keep the issues separate. You’re my son. I never quit you.

  OMARI: She was creepin’. That’s the adult business. That’s the grown-up stuff I can’t handle?

  XAVIER: Never mind. Let this go.

  OMARI: And you were mean. Cold. Making her feel like shit every day. You was never happy living over here and that wasn’t her fault. Mine neither.

  XAVIER: I took good care of you. Never missed a payment. Never missed a birthday or first day of school. You never went hungry. Always had a shirt on your back. Money in your pocket. Didn’t I do that? Is that my sin?

  OMARI: You know most of these dudes want their ol’ man in their life so bad. They think it’s the missing link to the equation. The last ingredient to understanding their manhood. But what’s having you in flesh? Flesh ain’t shit. It ain’t no different than sperm. It’s clinical. It does the biology. It don’t do the soul.

  XAVIER: The hell you want me to do? You want me to cry and hold you in my arms and rock you to sleep? That’s not my gig. I’m still your father. I’m still here.

  OMARI: Titles is overrated.

  XAVIER: You know what? I don’t give a shit if you like me or want to go to the gotdamn basketball court with me or pin a fuckin’ tail on my ass—I’m here. I’m the father and you’re the kid and that’s the law of the land. Like it or hate it. Screw it. I’m here.

  OMARI: You ain’t here. You there. I’m here. We miles apart.

  XAVIER: You’re gonna respect me. Don’t have to like me. Don’t have to enjoy my company. But the respect is non-negotiable.

  OMARI: Or what?

  XAVIER: You really wanna ask me that?

  OMARI: I want to know what if I say no.

  (Xavier looks at Omari like the Devil. He moves in close to him. Threateningly.)

  XAVIER: Sometimes I want to grab you by the throat and choke the shit out of you.

  (Omari stares at his father. Somewhat afraid. Somewhat heartbroken. Tears threaten his eyes.)

  OMARI: What’s stopping you?

  XAVIER: Witnesses.

  (Pause. The men are still. Again, people are everywhere.)

  OMARI: I was sittin’ in class, listenin’ to the lesson. Was gonna be a silent observer. Was talkin’ about Native Son. I had woke up that day thinkin’ ’bout you. Hadn’t seen or talked to you in weeks but the check came on time. I woke up with that check in my hands and I had a feeling about that. Like I didn’t know what to say but I wanted to say somethin’ to you. I called you but you didn’t answer. So I went to class. Sittin’ there listening to the class talk about Native Son. About the character Bigger Thomas and
who he was and what led him to his act of rage. Teacher kept saying he was “unleashed.” I kept thinking—animal. And we discussin’ this Bigger Thomas. Discussin’ his circumstances and what he comes from and this and that. Single mother. That got brought up. One of the students said he only had his mother. And I’m sittin’ there listening to this. On a day where I woke up with you on my mind and tried to call you. Tell you I had this feelin’ about getting these checks. Tell you I hadn’t seen you in a minute. Wonder where you been. But you didn’t answer your phone. So I sat there. Listenin’ to single mother poor angry animal Bigger Thomas. And when the teacher come askin’ me what I thought … I felt like he was sayin’ somethin’ to me. Like he knew I was sitting there, thinkin’ about you, feelin’ single mother poor angry animal Bigger Thomas–like. And he start sayin’, Mr. Joseph—what made Bigger Thomas do that to that girl? What were his social limitations? What made the animal in him explode? And he lookin’ at me. But also through me. And I say, I don’t want to talk about it. Cuz all I’m thinking about is you. And how I haven’t talked to you in weeks but I get this check on time. Like it’s automated. Like the bank sends it to me. And I wanted to know if you even mail it. Like is it even personal. Or is it just robotic routine responsibility. And I’m thinking—who does that??? What kinda nigga just sends checks and calls that fatherhood? And we talkin’ Bigger Thomas this and single mother that and limitations and animals exploding and I say DO NOT FUCKING CALL ON ME I DO NOT HAVE THE ANSWER. And he keep pushing me and pushing me. And I stand up to walk out cuz I feel the room gettin’ smaller and I’m becoming Bigger Thomas even when I hate this part of the story. And teacher get in my way. Tells me to sit down. Grabs me. Like you grab my arm when you try to play Daddy all of a sudden. When it’s convenient for you. And I pushed that bitch. Threw his ass offa me and into the fuckin’ smartboard. Threw him like he was the monkey hanging on my back. Like he was YOU. And I’m wishing it was you. I’m wishing I could throw him again. Pound his fuckin’ face into the ground. Rip that check up and say VOID. But it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you I pushed. It was my teacher. But I wished it was you. I wished it was you so bad I had to pee. Almost fuckin’ peed on myself right there in front of the class. And I don’t know if that is hate or love or somethin’ else I was feelin’. But I know why Bigger Thomas did what he did and I hate that I know. But you I hate more. You I hate most of all.