Stageplay
Cast:
DARRYL: Black, male, mid-20s to early 30s.
JUANITA: Black, early to mid-20s to early 30s.
UBER DRIVER: White, female, 40s or older.
COP: White, early 30s or older.
Present day. DARRYL and JUANITA have called an Uber to drive them and their newborn son home from the hospital. The ride home takes an unexpected turn into the couple’s future.
* * *
LIGHTS UP:
DARRYL and JUANITA sit in the backseat behind the UBER DRIVER on their way home from the hospital. JUANITA holds their two-day-old son.
DARRYL: I’m sorry.
JUANITA: You should be.
DARRYL: That’s not what I was looking for. I was hoping you were going to reassure me by saying, (imitating his wife) “It’s okay, Honey. I understand and I love you.” (Back to his voice) That’s kind of what I wanted.
(Light and playful banter follows.)
JUANITA: First of all, I don’t sound like no white girl. Second, you should be sorry. Our son’s big-ass head didn’t come from nobody but your side of the family. It took six hours just to push that out, so your Black ass needs to be sorry.
DARRYL: I’m sorry that I’m bringing you and our baby home from the hospital in an Uber. I was hoping we would have a car by now. That’s the reason I’m sorry, not my big-ass head.
JUANITA: (Mocking Darryl’s earlier impersonation) “It’s okay, Honey. I understand and I love you.” How was that? And my mama warned me about marrying a man with a big-ass head.
DARRYL: Your mama got some nerve. Throw a slipcover over her booty and four people could sit down.
JUANITA: Are we going to be talking about people’s mamas, now?
(DARRYL leans over and kisses JUANITA.)
DARRYL: No, we’re not. I take it back. Don’t worry. Austin will grow into his head. I did.
JUANITA: No you didn’t. You still need to do a little more growing for all that head to fit your body.
DARRYL: Are you going to talk smack about your husband in front of our son? Is that how it’s going to be?
JUANITA: Austin knows I’m playing. I love everything about my two beautiful, big-head, Black men. And I always will. (Beat) It’s okay, Babe. Things will get better once you’re accepted into that jobs-for-veterans program.
DARRYL: Thank you.
JUANITA: But I still should have listened to my mama about marrying a man with such a big-ass head.
UBER DRIVER: Can I offer you two some waters? It’s not champagne, but my small way of saying congratulations and thank you for your service. There’s a cooler next to your wife’s feet. Where were you deployed?
JUANITA: That’s sweet of you, but I’m okay.
DARRYL: Two tours in Afghanistan.
JUANITA: But he’s home for good now. No more military.
DARRYL: Would you mind if we take the waters home? Kind of like a souvenir of Austin’s first Uber ride?
UBER DRIVER: I would be honored. Who knows? Maybe in twelve years I’ll drive your son home from the playground and the three of us will recognize each other. We’ll have one of those Hallmark Channel movie moments.
JUANITA: Can I keep my baby as a two-day-old for a little while longer?
UBER DRIVER: Yes, sorry.
DARRYL: Speaking of playgrounds, we just passed by the nicest one I’ve ever seen. We don’t have no playgrounds in our neighborhood. Where are you taking us, lady?
UBER DRIVER: The address that came up. It says we’re three minutes away from your house.
JUANITA: Three minutes?
DARRYL: If we could afford a house in this neighborhood, we wouldn’t be calling Uber. We would own three cars, a boat, and a dog named George. You must be lost.
JUANITA: Darryl, this is the neighborhood we have on our vision board. I remember the name of the park, TR Recreational Center. What’s the address you have, miss?
UBER DRIVER: 26 Loehmann Avenue.
JUANITA: That’s the open house we went to a few weeks ago, remember? We were afraid they would ask how much money we make a year. We put the photo on our vision board next to the car.
DARRYL: We live at 46 Garmback Boulevard. That’s on the other side of town. Are we going to be charged for this?
UBER DRIVER: Is it possible that you put in the wrong address?
DARRYL: Why would I put in the wrong address? I know where I live. Besides, this is still mostly an all-white neighborhood.
UBER DRIVER: Maybe you made a mistake. Your wife did say it was on your vision board. I’m sure you have a lot of things on your mind right now.
(The stage is suddenly bathed in the flickering lights from several police cars.)
(Lights up on a COP who walks toward the Uber with his hand extended. A body lies on the ground behind him.)
UBER DRIVER: Sorry. He’s asking us to stop.
(The Uber comes to a stop.)
JUANITA: Our folks are meeting us at the apartment. Is it possible to turn around?
UBER DRIVER: It looks like traffic is coming to a stop on both sides. I’ll get out and ask.
(The UBER DRIVER leaves the car.)
UBER DRIVER: Excuse me, officer. Is there a way around this? I’m driving a couple and their newborn home from the hospital. Somehow I got the wrong address. It would be nice not to have them get stuck in this mess. It might save my rating too.
COP: You’re going to be here for a while. Some guy went and got himself killed. Pulled out a gun on two officers.
UBER DRIVER: Wow, are they okay?
COP: This time. Turned out to be a toy gun though.
UBER DRIVER: Thank you, officer.
(The UBER DRIVER returns to the car.)
UBER DRIVER (Cont’d): I’m sorry. We’re going to be here for a while. The police had to shoot some guy. I guess he had a gun.
DARRYL: We heard.
JUANITA: (Looking over the front seats and through the windshield) That’s not some guy. That’s a child. A little Black boy, probably ten or twelve years old.
UBER DRIVER: I thought you said this was a mostly white neighborhood.
DARRYL: You see who they shot don’t you?
JUANITA: Why haven’t they picked him up from the sidewalk or at least covered his body? His poor parents. I wonder if anybody has called them?
(DARRYL gets out of the car and approaches the officer with his hands raised in a nonthreatening manner.)
DARRYL: Officer. Officer, excuse me.
COP: Please return to your car.
DARRYL: I will, but would you mind having someone cover up the young man’s body? It’s bothering my wife. She just gave birth to our first son. I think it might be hitting a little too close to home for her—for us.
COP: You need to get back into the car, sir.
DARRYL: Officer, please. You can’t just ask someone to cover his body?
COP: Tell your wife to stop looking out the window.
DARRYL: What?
COP: And make sure you raise your kid right. We don’t need any new thugs coming up.
(DARRYL steps closer to the cop.)
DARRYL: What did you just say?
(JUANITA gets out of the car with the baby. UBER DRIVER follows.)
COP: Sir, back to your car.
JUANITA: Darryl, what’s going on? Come back to the car.
DARRYL: No, I need for him to say what he just said to me one more time.
COP: Listen, Buddy.
JUANITA: Darryl.
DARRYL: Say it again.
COP: Are you threatening a police officer?
JUANITA: No, he’s not. Darryl, what’s happening?
COP: Get back into your car, now.
UBER DRIVER: He will, officer. We don’t need anything else to happen today. Isn’t there some way you can direct us out of this? Are you a father? The first baby is always stressful.
(Something about the boy catches DARRYL’S eye. He stares at the dead body.)
DARRYL: That’s Austin.
JUANITA: What?
(DARRYL tries to get to the body, but the COP pushes him back.)
DARRYL: The boy on the ground—dead. That’s our Austin. Can’t you see that?
JUANITA: Austin is in my arms. That boy over there is at least ten years old.
(DARRYL has been completely transported to another place that only he can witness.)
DARRYL: He’s twelve. His birthday was two days ago.
COP: Sir, I suggest you get back into the car.
DARRYL: We broke down and bought him that toy gun he was bugging us for. Don’t you remember? That’s all he could talk about wanting for his birthday. A toy gun, Mom— A toy gun, Dad. A toy gun— a toy gun—
(DARRYL tries to get to the body again. The COP holds DARRYL back by placing his hand against his chest. Back and forth pushing goes on between the two men.)
DARRYL (to COP): What did you do?
COP: Buddy, I need you to calm down.
JUANITA: Darryl, take a deep breath like they told you—
DARRYL: Who shot him?
COP: I’m not going to warn you again. Calm the fuck down and get back inside your car.
DARRYL: Was it you? Did you shoot my son? He was twelve-year-old boy.
(The UBER DRIVER tries to pull DARRYL back toward the car.)
UBER DRIVER: Sir, that can’t be your son. Please come back to the car.
DARRYL: Get off of me.
(The COP pulls out his gun.)
COP: I need everybody to back the fuck up away from me and get back into your car.
DARRYL: What? You want to shoot me now?
(The UBER DRIVER pulls out her cellphone. The cop swings his gun toward the sudden movement.)
UBER DRIVER: It’s only my phone. It’s just my phone.
COP: Put you fucking phone away and get back inside your car.
UBER DRIVER: Officer, you’re escalating the situation. I just want to record things.
COP (to JUANITA): Is your husband on any kind of medication or taken drugs?
JUANITA: My husband doesn’t use drugs. Darryl, it’s not Austin. Don’t you see that? It’s not possible. He’s in my arms. Please come back to the car.
(DARRYL breaks past the COP and stands over the body. The COP swings his gun toward DARRYL.)
(The UBER DRIVER puts herself in between the gun and Darryl.)
JUANITA (Cont’d): No! No! No! He has PTSD! My husband has PTSD. Please don’t. He gets confused sometimes.
(JUANITA runs closer to Darryl. She keeps an eye on the cop and his gun. She’s torn between comforting Darryl and protecting the baby in her arms.)
DARRYL: I’m not confused. Him— they— them— They killed our son. We moved to this neighborhood because we thought it was safe. Because it had a playground. Because it had this park. A park for our son to pretend in. Isn’t twelve years old still being a child? Isn’t this park where Austin was supposed to play and use his imagination? He’s allowed to be whatever it is he wants to be inside this park. I never met a boy who didn’t ask for a toy gun. They made a goddamn movie about it. Wanting one for Christmas, or his birthday, or just asking to be asking for it. And you shot him. He was playing with a toy gun inside a park. A park for him to pretend in. He wasn’t pretending to be anything wrong. He wasn’t pretending to be anything bad. Look what’s on his chest. He drew it and I cut it out for him. It’s big and yellow and “sheriff” is spelled out on it in big black magic marker. Didn’t you see that? Didn’t those cops who shot him see that? What did you see when you saw my son, because I see a twelve-year-old boy. Why didn’t you see that? Why didn’t you see that he still needed time to grow into his head? He’s never going to get that chance. He’s never going to grow into that big-ass head that he got from me. That he got from his daddy and I got from mine. He’s never going to be able to give it to his son because you killed him. You killed my son.
(JUANITA steps closer to Darryl.)
JUANITA: Babe, Austin is not dead. Come back. Come back to me. Listen, Austin is okay. This boy isn’t ours. It hasn’t been twelve years. It’s only been two days. Austin is just two days old. That’s all. He’s not twelve and he’s not dead. Austin is safe.
DARRYL: No. No, he’s not. He’s not safe. They’ve already killed our son.
(DARRYL rips the blanket from JUANITA’S arms and snaps it open. The blanket is empty.)
BLACKOUT.
END OF PLAY
Vincent Terrell Durham is a Black, Queer American playwright. His voice has been shaped by each of these identities and a desire to create stories that are missing from the American stage. He is a Samuel French Short Play Festival winner and an O’Neill semifinalist. He has received several play commissions and his short plays have been published by Concord Theatricals and Theatrical Rights Worldwide. He comes from a family of vibrant storytellers, and he hopes his work will honor their legacy.