How come they can’t grow up to be Black men? (three beats) And I know as a mother, you’re suppose to love them, teach them, keep their butts in line, tell them to wear brown coats instead of blue—but you’re not suppose to bury them! (beat) A mother isn’t supposed to bury her son… (three beats) I took my ultrasound yesterday. And it’s a boy. Me a mother again? And I thought about you Romey. Maybe he’ll have your slow moving easy smile. Or maybe he’ll have your eyes. Eyes full of mischief. And I cried. Cried for my baby. Right there in the waiting room I bawled, nose running and everything, a real ugly kinna cry. I cried for my sons. Cried for our sons. (two beats) And all the other mothers in the waiting room, they just looked away. Just looked away. Cause they understood. (beat) No, they understand.

The “waiting room” mothers who have been sitting frozen in tableau start a funeral procession. They throw dirt and state the names of several men. These are the names of young Black men who have been murdered. After the last name. PATSY joins them, and states Jerome Davis. PATSY returns back to the chair and the lights change. NOVELETTE’s hands are still in her hair.

NOVELETTE:

So there you go a nice wash and set. This hair is growing, nice and thick. You know, they say a woman’s hair grows when she’s pregnant.

PATSY:

Miss Novelette, what are you saying to me?

NOVELETTE:

You a breed right? There’s a bun in the oven!

PATSY:

Letty, how did you know? I haven’t told anyone but my husband and God.

NOVELETTE:

I know.

PATSY:

Oh, Letty, I don’t know if I can do this again. You know with Romey and everything… and what if I’m not a good mother and maybe it’s too soon. And and—- I just can’t help thinking about Romey and if I had only… (sighs) and maybe I’m too old. Novelette you think I’m too old?

NOVELETTE:

Patsy, can you put your foot on your husband shoulder? Come on Patsy talk to me! Pasty, can you put your ankle around his neck and let him kiss it? Patsy, I know you can do it. Because if you can do all of that, Patsy, you’re not too old! And I’m no Christian or anything, but I believe God knew you had a lot more love to give so he decided to give you another chance. I knew Romey and that boy was a good kid. Well mannered, well-spoken beautiful young man. And who could forget that smile. And good kids don’t raise themselves Patsy. So you were a good mother. And you know now your going to be the best baby mother around. You know there is a reggae song, called, (singing) Claudette give me a beat ‘you are de best best best, baby mother’.

NOVELETTE starts to do a little reggae dance, EVERYONE joins in doing the latest dance moves. PATSY stiffly shakes to the beat.