An excerpt from my play, "Storm Signals" :

Dawn Douglas as Joan & Thembi Duncan as Nia. Spring, 2003.

Oh great. Now, it’s going to rain . . .

No it isn’t.

You didn’t feel that? Look at the sky. I shoulda known . . . soon as I got my hair done —

Girl, don’t even say that. Do you know how slow it’s been out here, so far this morning?

Can’t make a storm blow over, just by ignoring it

I know, I know this . . . but I'm not trying to talk it up, either.

. . . anymore than you can avoid reality by . . . sticking your head in the sand.

[A beat.]

Joan. Don’t start. Please.

Well, where is she?

She’ll be here.

That’s what you said over an hour ago.

She will be here.

I know you’re hungry.

Joan —

All you had was that trail mix.

I’m fine.

Let me run and get you something.

That’s okay.

Suit yourself. But when you pass out from low blood sugar . . . and all the little street urchins descend to steal your entire inventory – while you’re sprawled out on the sidewalk , with your skirt up over your head – don't say I didn't warn you.

If I’m sprawled out on the sidewalk with my skirt up over my head, and the only "stuff" folks notice, is the stuff on the table . . . ? Well . . . I’ve got bigger problems than just shoplifting.

Go ahead joke, but you just ought to be grateful that you have a friend who cares enough to be –

— a pain in the butt?

Fine. Whatever.

I am grateful.

I thought I was showing concern.

You were showing concern the first time you brought it up — forty-five minutes ago. Now, you’re showing something else.

Meaning?

Let's just say you have never been a member of the "Vanessa Dixon Fan Club".

As far as I’m concerned, that club only has one member — you.

And as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't need any more. Now, if you really want to help, you'll read me some more of those ads.

That's right. Make me an accomplice to the madness —

Joan . . .

Okay, okay.

How about something over near the Metro?

Which one?

"U Street/Cardozo". . . or "Howard/Georgia Ave." They’re the closest to campus . . . or even Anacostia, maybe.

Anacostia . . . ?

Rents probably a lot cheaper over that way and it’s still right on the Green Line to Howard. Why? Have you got something against "The Hood"?

Just don’t expect me to come out there to visit you.

You make it sound like it’s the other side of the continent.

It may as well be.

It’s no further than Georgetown Park or White Flint Mall – and you don’t seem to have any problem navigating your way to either those.

Keep your "authen-ticity" issues to yourself . . . thank you very much. The only "street" credentials I care about? Are the ones that accrue to Wall Street, Park Avenue . . . and Rodeo Drive.

But what about your people? The movement? What would Al Sharpton say?

Oh, I’m all for movement – as long as it’s upward mobility. . . and you and I both know Brother Al is seriously due for a makeover.

No you didn’t go there. My sister, my sister . . .

[JOAN begins to study the classifieds.]

Here’s a two bedroom that looks interesting over in Old Town.

Alexandria? That’s kind of out of the way, isn’t it? And we don't really need two bedrooms.

Suppose you have a fight? What’ll you do?

Same thing we do now. One of us will lock herself in the bathroom and pout until it’s time to kiss and make up.

Suppose a friend is visiting and it gets too late to catch that last train back to civilization, or there's a snowstorm and she gets stranded at your place?

I promise, we’ll have a sofabed or futon we can let out . . . with your name on it.

I seriously doubt that Van is having that. And suppose it isn’t me? What if her mother comes up to visit?

Now, her ass, we put in a hotel. Definitely. But, someplace close by and accessible, of course — like Philadelphia.

I don’t know . . . I’ve just got a bad feeling about this, the whole thing.

Well, please keep all that negative energy and bad Karma to yourself, "Miss Cleo". That's the City Paper, not a crystal ball. And I need a roof over my head — not a cloud . . . got enough of those up there already . . . so enough with the fortune telling, Okay?

In this market, it would be easier to predict the future, than find an apartment cheap enough to split rent with a . . . bike messenger.

Well . . . we can’t all have summer internships at big-ass corporate law firms. Besides, Van makes good money. She is nothing, if not a hustler.

You don’t have to tell me that . . .

I mean "hustler" in the good sense . . .as in "go-getter".

Yeah. Whenever it’s time take care of business, you’ve gotta "go get her" . . . and drag her ass to work.

Still, when she puts her mind to it, she makes a lot more than I ever could, vending my jewelry.

At least you’ re out here, everyday. Handling your business in a professional manner. Your girl only seems to work when the mood hits her, and the planets align themselves.

Mabye she marches to the beat of a different drummer. But, maybe that . . . independent spirit, is one of the things I love about her. That she’s kind of a rebel –

Against what? Essence magazine?

. . . and it’s not like I’m really expecting her to pay half the rent . . .

Oh noooooo, of course not. Why should you expect that?

Okay, okay. I admit it, my baby has a few issues.

A few? Girlfriend carries more baggage than Amtrak.

NIA

I know . . . and I know, at first glance, Van may seem a little rough around the edges maybe, a little –

– thuggish? A little "ghetto" . . . A little "Project girls gone wild!"?

I was going to say, a little . . . intimidating – but only at first. And, it’s mostly just a facade. Probably just her way of . . . "keepin’ it real".

Well, if you ask me, she keeps it little bit "too" real.

Trust me. Don’t even believe the hype. After all, Howard University is hardly cheap. Her sister is living in that big house out there in the ‘burbs, And her parents must be doing okay down in Atlanta, they’re putting her through school – without any financial aid. That doesn’t sound so hardcore to me. Hell, it’s a lot more than I can say . . . if it wasn’t for my scholarship . . . grants, work-study and student loans up the butt, I couldn’t afford UDC, let alone Howard . . . and yet you get along just fine with me.

That’s different. You’re . . . different.

So is Van, once you get to know her, behind that tough front she puts up. You just have to get past that . . . shell of hers.

There is not that much moisturizer in the world.

You’ve just never seen her other side. After all, that’s a pretty rough bunch she works and runs with. But, when she let’s her guard down, when we’re alone together, she can be a totally different person.

Who – Li’l Kim?

Come one, now. After all, this is a big step for her. I’ll be the first to admit that responsibility has not been one of her strong suits in the past . . . but I think the fact that she’s ready to settle down, start trying to get herself together, and focus on our relationship, is definitely a positive sign.

Whipped . . .

I am not (laughs) "whipped". Are you going to help me, or what?

I just hate to see someone with all of your good qualities, your initiative, your . . . creativity, your intelligence, your sensitivity . . . your beauty — I hate to see you throw all that away on someone who doesn’t even begin to have the sophistication to appreciate you. I don’t care how much "opposites attract." You could do so much better.

NIA

Well, don’t hold back. Why don’t you tell me exactly how you feel about the situation?

You never take me seriously . . .

Yes. I do.

Nia —

Anyway, shouldn’t you be getting back upstairs? The good folks at "Putney, Odell and Morales" can’t possibly believe it takes this long to get a broken heel fixed.

First you’ve got to promise me, that if Van doesn’t show up in the next half hour or so. . .say, by 11:45? You will call me at my office, and I’ll come down and bring you some early lunch . . . or at least a salad and some juice.

Okay, okay . . . Mother hen.

Just because I like to take care of you . . . does not mean that I’m trying to be your mother.

You’re trying to be something . . .

. . . a good friend.

You’re that already . . .

Then why don’t you ever listen to me?

I listen to you . . . I just don’t pay you no mind.

See there. That’s just what I mean.

Alright, alright. I promise. I promise I will call.

That’s more like it.

[JOAN turns to exit but stops herself.]

Oh. I almost forgot.

[She hands NIA a folded piece of paper.]

What’s this?

Just something I’ve been working on. For you — No. Don’t read it now. You can let me know what you think later.

. . . Okay.

You have my cell number?

Of course.

And the office number?

I know it by heart.

And If I don’t answer my extension, dial "0" and have me paged.

Right . . .

. . . What?

Nothing. No-thing . . . go back to work.