Mama

Daddy

Aunt Jo: suffering from depression

Uncle Myron: recently divorced

Aziza: the eldest Cooper child; 29 year old journalist in between jobs

Jordan: second eldest; 28 year old nurse assistant

Chanza: third eldest; 25 year old law student

Ollie: youngest Cooper child; 18 year old senior

Nana

Setting is at the dinner table on thanksgiving. The family sits at the table waiting for dinner, reminiscing and laughing about old times. Mama stands up to get the turkey from the oven, after hearing the timer ring.

Mama: Jo, quit picking your food! I'm about to get the turkey and I wanna see you eat it!

(Mama leaves room)

Uncle Myron: Aye, Nassir. What do you say we shoot a hand tonight after dinner? Bet a 50.

Daddy: Myron I know you not begging for a loss. We’ll shoot a hand, bet a 50, and I win a hunnid.

Uncle Myron: Patna spittin game. We’ll see.

(Mama returns with the turkey, setting it on the middle of the table)

Nana: Chile, that turkey is too brown! How long you let it cook for?

Mama: Long enough for it to taste good, nana.

Nana: Honey, ain’t no way that turkey is good. Nassir, you done let your wife mess up my thanksgiving turkey!? Shame!

Daddy: Now, mama. You haven’t even tasted it yet. It looks wonderful baby.

Mama: Thank you.

Jordan: Yes. It looks delicious mamma. Everything you made.

Mama: Thank you. Everyone, dig in please. Eat up, eat up!

(Family begins to eat, passing dishes and plates around)

Chanza: Can you cut me a piece of turkey, Ziza.

Aziza: I thought you didn’t eat meat.

Chanza: I’ve converted back into my carnivore tendencies.

Aziza: Channie, you were so passionate about not eating an animal though. What were you….mhm

Jordan: A vegan-

Aziza: Yes! A vegan. What happened?

Chanza: I was hungry.

Daddy: See what I told you, gal. Black folks need to eat meat!

Chanza: Nothing to do with race, daddy. Not everything is associated with the color of your skin.

Daddy: Oh yes it is. Black folks. We like our chicken. And our greens and kool aid. Black folks will be associated with those things because it’s invested in our culture. And culture is repeated for generations and generations. Heh. Now let law school tell you bout that!

Chanza: History proves it different.

Ollie: Jordan, the bread.

Jordan: Here you go, little man.

Ollie: I’m bigger than you.

Jordan: You wish little man. You still hooping?

Ollie: Yeah. I made varsity. Got a game this weekend. You ain’t come to my others.

Jordan: I’m sorry, little man. Things were so busy at the hospital-

Daddy: Yuh a nurse! Don’t you just clean a few asses and place band aids on skidded knees? You wasn’t too busy to see Ollie play, you just making excuses again.

Mama: Nassir. Stop.

(Daddy begins to laugh, scooping yams onto his plate. Jordan shifts uncomfortably.)

Daddy: What I tell you five years ago, Jordan? When you told me that you wanted to be a gay nurse?

Mama: Nassir!

Nana: Leave him be, boy! He’s working in the medicine. He’s making his money.

Daddy: Gay money.

Jordan: I save lives.

Daddy: HA! Listen boy. You don’t save lives. You assist the doctor who’s saving the lives.

Uncle Myron: Hey, hey, hey. When I had my surgery, I remember only seeing my doctor once! But my nurse, mannnnn. She helped me with every single thing. I owe my life to my nurse. You’re doing great and reformative work Jordan.

Jordan: Thank you, Uncle Myron.

Daddy: Shit, what does Myron know?

Uncle Myron: Enough.

(The family continues eating in a few moments of silence. Aziza checks her phone and gasps)

Mama: What’s wrong, baby?

Aziza: My uh-ummm. My uh...I just got an email. From the radio station up north. Through Sunrise? Remember? When I applied with you? They’ve emailed me back!

Mama: That’s great baby, what did they say?

Aziza: They’ve said-they’ve said i've got it! I uh….I can start New Year.

Chanza: Nice, Ziza.

Jordan: Yeah, about time you’ve made your comeback!

Daddy: Yeah about time. I was tired of you sleeping on the couch. Never washing your dishes. You’d think another brother lived here when it was actually a woman. Just nasty.

Aziza: Well I’m happy that you’re proud of me, daddy.

Daddy: No, I ain’t said I was proud. I’m relieved.

Aziza: You’re proud of me.

Daddy: I ain’t proud of you girl! You are 29 years old and don’t need for me to be proud. You do what you do, you work hard and you get the shit you are working for. Forget about anybody being proud of you. You be proud of you.

Mama: Don’t listen to your bitter daddy. I’m proud of you baby.

Aziza: Thank you, mama.

Nana: Me too, honey. Yuh daddy’s just a mean loser. His pants too tight. Head too big.

(the family laughs, except for daddy)

Daddy: Yeah laugh it up. My kids don’t need for me to be proud. They’re doing what they need to be doing in this society. If I was white, Id have the pleasure of being proud of my kids. But we black. And being proud of the great things in life is playing cards with the devil. Jinxing everything. I’m not risking a jinx, no sir.

Chanza: That’s such a negative mindset, daddy. We work so hard to prove our worth, but it’s never validated by our own family. The fuck we working for then?

Mama: Hey watch your mouth!

Daddy: Nah let her cuss. I’m not going to argue with you goddamnit. I’m hungry. Let’s eat.

(The family eats again in silence, scraping their plates and licking their fingers)

Nana: You did good, Chile. This food was good.

Aunt Jo: Yes, very good Pam.

Daddy: WHAT!!!!!

(family jumps and looks at Daddy with wide eyes. His fist

clenched onto the table. Staring right at Aunt Jo)

Daddy: I didn’t know.

Mama: Are you crazy, Nassir! Scaring us all half to death. What’s the matter with you!

Daddy: I just didn’t know, is all.

Nana: Know what, boy!

Daddy: That Aunt Jo speaks.

Uncle Myron: Nassir, you’re foul.

Daddy: What? But we all thinking it. Doesn’t speak at any of our family gatherings, sits in the corner and doesn’t say a word. I was thinking you were deaf Jo. I miss my sister, the lively you were. Remember when she was lively, Myron?

Uncle Myron: Yes. You were something else, Jo.

Aunt Jo: Were.

Ollie: How was you, Aunt Jo?

Mama: It’s, how were you.

Ollie: How were you?

Aunt Jo:

Daddy: Wild! Jo would have all the boys swooned over her. Nice long hair, caramel skin and light eyes. She was the party starter. Always came to have a good time. Pleased many of my homies.

Mama: Nassir!

Daddy: I’m just saying.

Nana: Don’t speak of it boy. I don’t like to be reminded of that shit.

Aunt Jo: Then what do you like to be reminded of, mama?

Nana: Not the ungodly acts that my only daughter has done! How the devil corrupted her soul and embodied her spirit.

Aunt Jo: I was a teenager!

Nana: You was nasty! I don’t know who raised you that way.

Aunt Jo: You did. You raised me.

Nana: I couldn’t have. I would’ve never raised a daughter to lay on her back for numerous men. And enjoy it.

(Aunt Jo scoffs, wiping her mouth with a napkin and awkward smiling. She props her head on her hands and leans towards mama, and begins to whisper.)

Aunt Jo: What about the things that I didn’t enjoy. The things that were forced upon me because of your shit parenting.

Nana: Stop talking.

Aunt Jo: All the stares from your newest boyfriends. Their presence lingering near me, their fixation, their gifts. Them asking me for a hug, and their arms around my body for too long. Too long. And you noticed how long. Too...long.

Chanza: This is messed up!

Aziza: Shhhh.

Nana: Stop. Talking.

(Aunt Jo stops whispering and begins to yell.)

Aunt Jo: Ray raping me? Tony sneaking in my bed? Or Lawerence feeling all up on me once my bath was done-

Nana: You shut up!

Aunt Jo: What else you wanna hear, Nassir? Me sleeping with your homeboys off the football team? Daddy choosin me to live with him instead of you? That’s what you want to hear right?

Daddy: Daddy ain’t want you! When he found out you was a hoe, he left and never came back.

Aunt Jo: My daddy loved me! He loved me! Mama told him that I didn’t want nothing to do with him because she was trying to get back at him in the most malicious way.

Nana: no child. Your brother is right. Your daddy didn’t want you. He left with that pretty little white girl to start a stress free life. A responsibility less life. He ain’t look back. He ain’t called, wrote, messaged, nothing.

Aunt Jo: I hate you all.

(Aunt Jo begins to cry as mama cleans up the dishes.)

Mama: I’ve got cake. Let me get it really quickly.

Ollie: I didn’t get accepted.

Aziza: What do you mean?

Ollie: I lied.

Aziza: About what?

Ollie: College.

Daddy: Boy! Speak in full sentences with explanation and details. What you mean you lied about college?

Ollie: I made a fake acceptance letter. Forged some signatures offline. I didn’t get accepted into Howard.

Jordan: Why’d you….why’d you do that Ollie?

Ollie: I wanted to make daddy proud. I turned down all of my other offers that wanted me to play ball for them. They riding on my talent. I don’t want to just be known for this balling shit. I want to be known for something that can benefit people.

Jordan: Ollie-

Ollie: I know. It was stupid of me. I want to be an engineer. I want to build and inspire. Create a legacy and craft for myself. Ballin isn’t the black man dream, it’s an escape. Like a-like a thing to settle for because nothing else is going good for you. Just like slinging dope. I’m not with that.

Daddy: Boy I just. There’s just no words from me.

Ollie: I know, daddy. I’m sorry.

(mama walks in with a large cake propped on a plate. She’s smiling)

Mama: Here we are! German chocolate cake. Nana, you’re favorite.

Nana: Chile, you’re in for something.

Mama: What?

Chanza: Ollie-

Daddy: Let the boy speak of his own failures!

Mama: Ollie?

Ollie:

Mama:...What? Ollie, what’s happened baby?

Ollie: I’m not going to college.

Mama: Wh-what? What do you mean you not going to college? Boy you got accepted to your dream school! Why wouldn’t you go to college?

Olllie: I didn’t get accepted, ma. I forged the letter. It was fake.

Mama: No it wasn’t. Ollie I saw the paper, I saw it all. It wasn’t forged, it was real.

Ollie: No, mama. It’s not real. I lied to you. I wasn’t able to get it this time.

Mama: Then you ball. Get on a scholarship like I said.

Ollie: No. I told you I didn’t want to do it on a basketball scholarship.

Mama: I’m sorry to break it to you but your grades won’t get you in!

Chanza: Ollie you’ve got to be reasonable. Howard is your dream school and they’re offering you a scholarship to play ball. Look, you can play basketball, and also pursue an engineering career-

Jordan: Yeah, because I’ve seen the way you balled. It ain’t gonna get you to NBA.

(The family laughs. Mama starts cutting the cake into slices, handing them out. Everyone relaxes a bit.)

Aunt Jo: But you know those options. You know about the basketball scholarship, and pursuing engineering. Something else is hindering you, isn't there, Ollie?

Nana: Girl, leave that boy be. Not everyone is as depressed and lonely as you. Stop dragging us with you!

Aunt Jo: No, but think. Ollie isn’t dumb-

Daddy: Have you seen the boys report card? More Fs than the word ffffffffrrrrttttttt!

Aunt Jo: Shut up, Nassir. I mean, he’s not dumb enough to think that balling is all that’s for him. Why don’t you want to go to college, Ollie?

Ollie: It’s not that I don’t want to go. I just can’t get into one.

Aunt Jo: Where else have you applied to?

Ollie:....nothing. Just Howard.

Aunt Jo: Why?

Ollie: I believed that I would get in, Aunt Jo, damn!

Mama: No. Ollie. I remember you telling me that you would apply to multiple schools? Now you’re only saying one?

Aunt Jo: Tell the truth now, Ollie.

(The family stares at Ollie as he bites his lip. He then jumps from the table, knocking over his cake onto the carpeted floor.)

Daddy: Boy get a grip!

Ollie: Dammit, Aunt Joy! You promised me! You promised me!

Aunt Joy: You couldn’t keep it this long, honey.

Mama: What are you talking about? The both of you? What is it!

Ollie: It’s my fault. I lied to her. *sobs*

Mama: Ollie!

Ollie: I ruined her life.

Chanza: Aunt Jo, what is he talking about?

(Aunt Jo looks to Ollie in question. He wipes tears from his chin and sadly nods in approval.)

Aunt Joy: A few weeks ago, when I was here helping you bake the cakes for church, I went into Ollie’s room to find a towel like you told me to. There was a pregnancy test at the foot of his bed. It read positive.

Mama:..........what?

Aunt Jo: When I told Ollie I found it, he begged me not to say anything. I promised I wouldn’t. But since we are spilling the deepest Cooper secrets, I figured this would be something that needs to be in the open.

Ollie: Ma.

Chanza: Ollie!

Aziza: Who is she!?

Jordan: Little man, no.

Nana: I told you Pam don’t know how to raise no kids!

(Daddy rises from his chair and walks to where Ollie is crouched over and crying. He hugs him tightly.)

Daddy: It’s okay son.

Ollie: I ruined her life! I told her I was using protection but I lied. I just-I lied! I lied! I lied! I ruined her!

Daddy: Its okay, son. It takes two people to have a baby. It’s not all on you.

Mama: YOU DON'T GIVE HIM SYMPATHY!

Aziza: Mama-

Mama: NO! I told each and everyone of you, NO BABIES. Ollie, you are not ready for this baby. Is she?

Ollie: No. She isn’t.

Uncle Myron: Ollie. How old is she?

Ollie:

Mama: HOW OLD IS SHE!

Ollie: Mama, I can’t. I can’t-

Mama: How fucking old is she, Ollie!

Ollie: She’s…...15.

Nana: Dear lord. Jesus almighty.

Ollie: I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, I swear it.

(Mama sprints towards Ollie, ripping Daddy from him and gripping his clothes into her fists, shaking him vigorously.)

Mama: HOW COULD YOU! 15!?? 15!??? She’s a CHILD. YOU ARE 18. OLLIE SHES A CHILD!

Daddy: Pam, let him go.

Mama: I RAISED YOU. I told you no sex. I told you! I told you! I didn’t want to be another statistic. I told you!

Daddy: Pam! Let go of him. It’s taken care of.

(Mama turns around and glares at daddy. Ollie falls to the ground whimpering.)

Mama: Taken care of?

Daddy: Taken care of.

Mama:.....you…..knew?

Daddy: Yes. The boy came to me about a week ago. I paid for the abortion.

Mama: The abortion? Oh my god. Oh my God!

Daddy: Taken care of.

Chanza: Daddy, how could you do that?

Daddy: I did what I had to do! For my son. A parent makes hard decisions for the benefit of their child.

Aziza: You killed Ollie’s child!

Daddy: Oh shut up you liberal, I had to.

Mama: Why! Why did you have to Nassir? Without consulting it with me? Your wife! His mother.

Daddy: Because I knew you’d say no.

Mama: I can’t even look at you. Or Ollie. The both of you is making my stomach clench.

Daddy: Pam, you don’t understand. She was white.

Uncle Myron: Always those pretty young white girls getting themselves into trouble with the older brothas.

Daddy: Her Daddy is sherriff. You know what they would’ve done to our son if they were to find out.

Mama: Her family doesn’t know….that she’s gotten an abortion?

Daddy: Pammy, think about that? A black boy whos 18 impregnates their innocent white daughter? Our son would be locked away in a heartbeat. I’m not letting the white man win again.

Mama: I cannot stand to look at you.

(Mama sobs, clutching her chest and leaning against the wall. She breathes slow, staring at everyone at the table.)

Mama: Aziza, my firstborn. I watched you become a leader. You cared for your brothers and sisters when yuh daddy and I could not. You are a talented writer, and an even better reporter when you were still working for TMJ. But it’s time for you to find yourself. You need to get your life together and indulge. Enough drinking.

Aziza: Wh-what?

Mama: Enough drinking. It’ll rot you. *sobs* Jordan. I believe in you. You are saving lives. You are doing reformative work. But are you reforming yourself? It’s time to come out, baby. We will accept you no matter what you might believe.

Uncle Myron: Come out of what?

Jordan: The closet.

Nana: Dear Lord.

Mama: Chanza, you are so brilliant. You knocked everyone down in your classes and graduated top of your class. But humble yourself. You think you’re tough shit when you’re not. And Ollie. I love you my baby boy.  I’ve loved you since I held you in my arms, so light and pure, brown skin so smooth. I knew you’d be my last baby, and most special baby. I wanted to give you complete happiness and peace. I just knew I wanted to absorb any pain that you would feel, any hurt that could come your way. But you’ve done something bad and mama can’t be there to help get rid of the hurt engraved in yuh soul. It’s there forever. We are not a perfect family, but we make it work. But sometimes it has become a bit too much for me. And I-I...can’t breathe. I’m sorry.

(Mama storms out of the dining room. As the rest of the family sits in silence. Mourning the loss of the inevitable.)

The End.