Brotherly Love by Shareaf Fleming

Page 1

BROTHERLY LOVE by Shareaf R. Fleming 2/25/20


Scene opens up with two brothers sitting at a kitchen table. M.F., the smaller, younger of the two, breaks the silence. M.F. Good morning, Broski! What it do, Dunny? (Silence. Becoming more animated.) What’s the deal today? We on? (S.F., the older, slightly bigger brother looks M.F. in the eyes.) S.F. Shut – (Beat.) Up! I got shit to do today and I’m trying to get my plans together mentally. I can’t do that with your ass chirping. M.F. Damn! All I was trying to do was make covo. (Under his breath.) Old sour ass nigga, always mad at somebody over something. S.F. Since you wanna talk, let’s talk about the collection. M.F. (Puts his head down and shakes it.) Man! It always comes back to that pile of papers. You a way out, dude. S.F. (Makes a face of confusion.) PILE OF PAPERS?! Man, you got to be SUPER SLOW! THAT “PILE OF PAPERS” is worth ... Never mind. Just make sure to handle your business. (S.F.’s phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it, walking into the living room.) M.F. (Puts his head down on the table, talking out loud.) Why ME? Of all the people, you just had to leave me in the jam, Pop.


2/25/20

2.

(In the next room, S.F. Slams his hand palm first against the living room wall and raises his voice.) What the hell is he doing? Fool trying to tear the damn house down? (M.F. Walks close to the wall in an attempt to ear hustle.) S.F. (In a hushed but audible tone, on the phone.) I can’t do shit at the present moment. The name of the game is hurry up and wait. Wait for the lawyer to tell me what I already know – the old man chose him. Wait for the Little Shit Stain to make up his mind. Remember, I’m a visitor here. Just trust me, we gone be alright. (S.F. hangs up and enters the kitchen. M.F. is leaning, shoulder first, into the wall, arms crossed) M.F. (With a big smile on his face.) So, what’s up Big Brother? S.F. Damn! You nosey, Man. That’s the problem with everybody around here. Everybody in everybody shit! M.F. Yeah, that may be true, but from the sounds of it you gone need somebody around here. So if you expect some help from around here you better start talking. Now. (Beat.) S.F. Dad made you executor of his affairs, and with him in a coma and them talking about it not looking good ... M.F. You selfish, phony-ass, four-eyed, corny muthafaucker! Our Daddy ain’t dead yet and you got your ass in here talking about some fucking affairs. Punk Ass probably owe some bookie or something.


2/25/20

3.

S.F. Man! My goddamn daughter sick, and if we don’t get this treatment she may not make it. (His face contorts as he starts to cry.) M.F. You mean the SAME niece that I ain’t never met? The one who wouldn’t know me if I was in a crowd. Hell, I ain’t even never seen a picture of this girl. How do I even know she real? You so into family but it’s like we your relatives and THEY your family. S.F. (Breaks down between sobs and says ...) I ain’t finna play with you about my child! Yeah, I owe money. I owe the BANK. I owe my INSURANCE. I owe the Title Loan. You name it, I owe ‘em. If they lend, I’ve probably borrowed. I’ve done everything I could to make before I came here. M.F. Bro, but Dad ... (S.F. cuts him off angrily.) S.F. That old man didn’t give two shits about me. All he did was beat my ass and drink, in no specific order. I remember those years before you came along. True, he cleaned himself up when you come along and was nothing short of Daddy of the year for you. But I still got the fucking scars on my back. (S.F. tears his shirt off, revealing scars often seen on the backs of slaves.) M.F. Bro, I ain’t never heard that, not even from you growing up. S.F. Man, I wasn’t trying to ruin your image of the old man. You worshipped that man. Bro, I NEED that baseball card collection to sell for that treatment and to save my house. I’m drowning man. M.F. I got you man. I got her. I got us. I just wanted you to love us. I thought you just hated me. Lord knows, I thought it was about me. S.F. I know you wanted me to respect him, but Bro ... (M.F. hugs his brother.)


2/25/20

4.

M.F. In the morning, I got to go to storage and get the cards so you can get your family together. S.F. No little brother. Our family. (Lights fade.) (Lights come back up. The following day. S.F. sits at the kitchen table again. He is on the phone.) S.F. Look baby, he’s suppose to come back in a little while, then everything after that is gonna work itself out. I hollered at him yesterday, so his mind finally right. I got this. (M.F. walks in the back door with a large leather satchel in which the father’s baseball card collection is carried.) M.F. Here we is big brother. (He proudly slams the cards down in front of S.F. And S.F. Just looks at M.F. with anger in his eyes.) S.F. Yeah, you got them, but did you have to slam this shit right in front of me, clown? M.F. Damn, Bro. I thought you’d be happy to see me, if no day but today. I thought we was on another path but it’s been more of the same lately. S.F. Just got a lot on my mind. (He gets up from the table and walks into the living room.) (M.F. Stands in the kitchen by the table when S.F.’s phone rings. He picks it up from the table. A female voice ...) M.F. Hello.


2/25/20

5. FEMALE VOICE

Whatup Daddy? M.F. (Playfully mocks his older brother.) Hey baby. FEMALE VOICE You get it yet? I miss you. I need you back. M.F. Naw, not yet. FEMALE VOICE Daddy! I thought you said you had took care of the business. Left me over here broke and alone. I’m a have to find somebody to take care of me like you SAY you was. If it ain’t that bitch you married it’s that job. I’m getting restless. If I ain’t a priority then tell me. M.F. Bae, you know I got the situation with my daughter. (S.F. Walks in, not knowing that M.F. Is talking to his side chick.) FEMALE VOICE Nigga! What! You! Say! Daughter ... I been with you four years. We sleep in the same bed every night. You ain’t never said – (M.F. puts the phone on speaker. Holds it out to S.F.) – that you had a daughter. Shit. You told me you couldn’t have kids due to some shit about your dad beating you. DAUGHTER? I’M DONE! YOU FIRED! (Dial tone. M.F. sets the phone on the table.) M.F. Care to elaborate? (S.F. begins to speak.) (M.F. Stops him with a hand.) Do you got a daughter? (S.F. gives his brother a look that says it all.) END OF PLAY


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