Lights up on a small dinner table in a very humble apartment in a city somewhere. The time is not specific to an era, but we understand that the current times are ripe for rural to urban migration. Our family is adjusting to city life.
On the dinner table sits a father, whose staunch traditionalist nature is making him struggle with the spatial changes the family is undergoing.
Opposite him is a mother. She is obedient. She speaks and is unheard most of the time. This type of mother has never contemplated the thought of individual choice.
They have a son of about 12 years old, maybe younger. Kip is his name.
They eat in silence. The mother is struggling to let something out.
She gives up on her dish.
Mother: Now, what’d you have to do that for?
Silence.
He doesn't respond.
Mother: He meant no harm.
Silence.
He doesn't respond.
Mother: I see no reason fo-
Father: That thing was botherin’ me.
Mother: Don’t call him a “thing”.
Father: I’ll call it what I wanna call it.
Mother retreats.
Mother: You’ve been mighty harsh on him lately.
Silence.
He doesn't respond.
Mother: Ever since we got here…he don’t be makin’ no friends at school.
Silence.
He doesn't respond.
Mother: The poor thing has no company but the two of us.
Father: You’re startin’ to bother me, woman.
She is quiet.
She attempts eating her dinner again.
A paper is slid from underneath the door, it’s shaped like an airplane. The mother goes to grab it. On it “To: Mama” is written in a purplish-blue crayon. She opens it. The father scans the mother with a side-eye waiting for her to tell him what it says.
Father: Go on now, what is it?
Mother: The boy’s hungry. (calling out to Kip) I’ll whip up a plate for ya honey.
Father: Sit back down.
Mother: The boy’s hungry.
Father: He needs to learn his lesson. It ain’t an all-inclusive pass in there.
Mother: But he needs to be fed. Your child’s hun-
Father: Be quiet.
Mother: You ain’t listenin’ to me! He ain’t gonna grow up likin’ you if you gonna keep lockin’ him up for no reason!
Beat.
Father: No reason? The damn thing objected.
Mother: All he said was “the food is cold,” what kinda problem would that cause?
Father: “All he said was the food is cold”? “All he said was the food is cold”! Let me tell ya right here that the simplest objection is a gateway to a sea of troubles. That’s what he’s sayin’ today! Tomorrow it’ll be, “I don’t want no yams for dinner!” Next week he’ll be eatin’ in his room all by himself, objectin the sacristy of the family dinner table. Five years from now he’ll be flippin’ you off while walkin’ out that door with my gold watch in his pocket ready to trade it for some rocks! I won’t raise no dope fiend under my roof.
I don’t allow no objection in my house!
Beat
You oughtta thank me.
(Mother starts to clear the dinner table)
Mother (She remembers Kip’s request): Just you wait until I reheat yo plate, honey.
Mother (Under her breath): Damn sure he got it from you.
Father: What was that?
Mother: I didn’t say nothin’...
Father: Nah, you were mumblin’.
Mother: I was makin’ an… ob-servation.
Father: You were mumblin’. You even mumbled somethin’ about me.
Mother: Here, have some more yam.
Father: Don’t you start thinkin’ you’re smarter than me now, what d’you mumble about me?
Mother: I was only sayin’...
Father: Yeah..
Mother: I only made the comment...
Father: Go on..
Mother: The factual comment.
Father: Spit it out, woman!
Mother: That he only objectin’ cause you be objectin’ all the time. He learn it from you!
Beat
Father: You have the audacity… to shit that godforsaken kid out of yo’ belly and come blame me for his wretched behaviour?
Mother: Watch your mouth now, he can hear ya in there! (calling out) Kip, honey, you want some more yam!
Kip: I don’t want no yam! Leave me alone now!
(silence)
Father: I told ya. I have foresight. I see 20 years ahead.
(She is cleaning the dishes and contemplating the account she is about to mention. Maybe she made it up, she seems like the type of woman who would say anything just to say anything.)
Mother: You know Mercy Sweetland?
Father: Who?
Mother: Mercy. Mercy Sweetland.
Father: The hag with the warts on her titty meat?
Mother: Mercy has a lotta freckles ever since we were young.
Father: Ain’t no mercy about that.
Mother: They just grew darker with age. Anyway. Mercy used to tell me that her daddy, that old Chase fella… you remember him, he used to send us them dried up corn cobs!
Father: That good for nothin’ trickster, I was hootin’ when he bit the big one.
Mother: You bet his son was too! When we was young, Mercy, she told me that Chase, her father, would run after her brother, every day after he come home from school, and he would chase the boy with a matchbox in his hand. And when he caught him, he would let him open his mouth wide, the boy would stick his tongue out, and Mercy’s daddy, Chase, would light three matchsticks, one after the other, and put the flame out on the little fella’s tongue. You know what happened? The boy had matchsticks gone put out against his tongue too many times that he woke up in the middle of the night one night and tried to light a matchstick onto his daddy’s side of the bed. And Chase was in the bed. He almost caught fire and died if it wasn’t for Mercy wakin’ up to the smell of smoke!
Father: What are you sayin?
Mother: I’m sayin’ watch out! ‘Cause if you lose yo child’s love, that child’ll grow up to be somethin’ far worse than a yam-hatin’ dopefiend.
Beat.
He contemplates the thought.
He quickly recovers so as not to admit recognizing what his wife said.
Father: Shut up, woman, what d’you know about raisin’ children? You done fed him too much love. Too much love won’t save his ass if he gets stepped on in the streets. You don’t bring a boy up in a city like this with love. You gotta prepare him for what’s out there.
Mother: It was your idea to drag us here. I couldn’t object.
Father: The hell you couldn’t.
Silence.
He moves to his armchair, grabs the newspaper and starts reading.
The mother carefully approaches him. She sits down near him. Tries to speak. He looks at her and could bet that she wouldn’t utter a word.
She gives up. Returns to clearing the table and washing the dishes.
Beat.
Mother: He’s just a child.
They don’t understand, you know.
Silence.
He doesn’t respond.
Mother: You never took him to play outside.
Father: What the hell’s the matter with you? Where was all that talk before?
Mother: If we die tomorrow, what kinda memories will we leave him to remember us by?
The father scoffs.
Father: We’ll leave him with a will to endure. He gonna see things out there far worse than a night in his room without dinner. When he grow up, he won’t have time to think about how mean his daddy was.
Mother: Kids with mean daddies don’t grow.
Beat.
Father: My daddy was mean and harsh and I grew up just fine.
Mother: And that’s all you can say about him.
Silence.
The mother is still washing the dishes. She goes to the room where Kip is locked and leans against the door to listen.
Mother: He’s been awful quiet… Can I check up on him?
Father: If you open that door I’ll grab that candle over there and light his tongue up like the fourth of July sky, then you can call that Mercy of yours and pay respects to her daddy.
Let me raise him right.
Mother: What if he hurt himself? Or passed out on the floor or- (She knocks on the door in a sudden frenzy) Kip! Kip honey, answer mama. Are you alright? Sweety, please.. Just for mama.
Silence
Kip (somberly): I’m alright mama.
Mother sighs in relief
Mother (to the father): Doesn’t that break your heart? His voice all wobbly and his spirit all broken by his own father.
Silence.
He doesn’t respond.
Beat.
Mother: My daddy never touched a hair of mine. See, I grew up on love. My mama and daddy done hugged me so many times when I was young that I don’t care if no one hold me no more now. I’m still livin’ on the love they gave me. Love. It keeps my thought straight, it keeps my feelins straight. That’s the difference.
Father: You sayin’ am not straight?
Mother: I’m sayin’ yo father done hit you so hard in the head that things aren’t the same up there. You enjoyin’ yo’ child’s misery! I bet that’s why you wanted him in the first place, to get yo payback from yer mean daddy.
Silence.
He doesn’t respond.
You ain’t never listenin’.
Silence.
A very soft knock is heard from the room where Kip is.
Kip (softly and in fear) Mama…
Mama: I’m here, honey.
Kip: Come closer.
Mama: Yeah sweety.
Kip: Can he hear me?
Mama: What is it honey, don’t you be scared…
Kip: I- need… I need to pee.
Beat.
A silence. The mother looks at the father. He looks back. They have a conversation within that silence. The mother is daring him. He does not like to be dared. If they had not had that earlier dialogue, he would have let him out. He does not like to be dared.
Mother: Your. son. Needs. To go to the bathroom.
Silence.
He does not respond.
Mother (she laughs in disbelief): Yer foolin’ around, aren’t ya?
Father: ‘Scuse you?
Mother (finally gathering up the courage of years of silence): I said you’ve got to be kidding me! There’s a child in there-you’re son. And he needs to eat. Your child is hungry. He needs to go to the bathroom. Your child needs you to be gentler. He needs. He’s just a child.
Silence.
He does not respond.
Mother: (What the hell is wrong with you!)
Silence.
He does not respond.
(Note: All this time we might be thinking: Why does the mother not open the door herself despite her husband’s refusal? The door can be opened. The father, however, cannot. Her attempts here are directed towards fixing an imminent catastrophe of a relationship between Kip and his father.)
Mother: Alright. Imma open that door and let my child, my kid, the fruit of my loins out of there and Imma feed him all the love and support I can right in front of your two eyes.
She runs to the door and opens it. It’s locked
Father: (laughs obnoxiously) Go on, now. Let the fruit of your loins out.
Mother: How dare you lock my child in there! Where’s the damn key?! Gimme it!
Father (quietly, slowly, and slyly): I done warned you woman about objectin’ under my roof!
Mother: What’you gonna do? Lock me up with my child, go on!
(The lights go out suddenly)
Kip (from inside. Frantically. Small then grows into a crying frenzy): Mama! What happened? Mama, are you there? I’m scared of the dark, Mama, open the door. (He starts knocking for them to let him out). Mama! Let me out, I’m beggin’ ya!
Mother: Kip, don’t worry Kippy, it’s just the power, it’s gone out. That’s not us. I’m here sweety. Hang on.
Mother: You heard him! He can’t stand the dark! Let him out!
Father: Shut up now, where’s that damn candle!
Mother: I said let my child out. He scared of the dark!
Father: Let me find the stupid candle, look for the match sticks!
Mother: You ain’t gettin’ no damn matchsticks near my son!
Father: To light the damn candle you damned-
Kip: Mama! Please! Help! Mama!
Mother: Where’s the key?
Kip: Let me out, I’m beggin’ ya.
Father: Hold on a minu-(he stumbles into something) Ouch! Goddammit!
Kip: I see somethin’! Somethin’s in here!
Mother: We’re getting the key, Kip, give it a second child. Nothin’s in there, it’s just your imagination. Mama’s here! Stay with me, Kippy!
(Kip lets out a loud scream)
Father: Shut that thing up, I can’t hear the matchbox!
Mother: CALL MY CHILD A THING ONE MORE TIME YOU MISERABLE HATEFUL MAN! YOU FULL OF HATE! YOU ONLY FULL OF HATE AND MISERY! HE HATES YA! HE HATES YA AND I HATE YA! GET ME THAT DAMN KEY AND LET MY CHILD OUT OF THERE!
(It’s quiet. Everything is still. The words hit the father. The mother slightly regrets what she said because she refuses to be anything remotely similar to the husband. Kip makes no noise.)
(The lights are back on)
Father: I found it.
Mother: Gimme it! (She runs to snatch it from the father).
(Vigorous knocking on the. The father goes to get it).
Mother: Kip, honey, I’m here. Gimme a second (the key is jammed). Gimme a second sweetheart.
The person by the door is a neighbour. They’re heaving. Shaking. Stuttering
Neighbour: Th-th-e… li--the-lights went o-o-off. I stood by the...Oh my- I stood by the window. I tried call-. I tried stop-Where the he- were. And-...it happened so quick. I didn’t know...I wanted to run to...but stop him---I called out for y-but no one heard.. he wouldn’t wait…-he just jumped. I t-t-tried you couldn’t hear me.
Mother screams.
The father is still.
Silence.
He doesn’t respond.
End.