Fences Page #9

cory:
Hey, Pop . . . you can’t do that. He’s coming

all the way from North Carolina.

troy:
I don’t care where he coming from. The white man

ain’t gonna let you get nowhere with that football

no way. You go on and get your book-learning

so you can work yourself up in that A&P or learn

how to fix cars or build houses or something, get

you a trade. That way you have something can’t

nobody take away from you. You go on and learn how

to put your hands to some good use. Besides hauling

people’s garbage.

cory:
I get good grades, Pop. That’s why the recruiter

wants to talk with you. You got to keep up your

grades to get recruited. This way I’ll be going

to college. I’ll get a chance . . .

troy:
First you gonna get your butt down there to the

A&P and get your job back.

cory:
Mr. Stawicki done already hired somebody else

’cause I told him I was playing football.

troy:
You a bigger fool than I thought . . . to let

somebody take away your job so you can play some

football. Where you gonna get your money to take

out your girlfriend and whatnot? What kind of foolishness

is that to let somebody take away your job?

cory:
I’m still gonna be working weekends. I’m still gonna be working weekends.

troy:
Naw . . . naw. You getting your butt out of here

and finding you another job.

cory:
Come on, Pop! I got to practice. I can’t work

after school and play football too. The team

needs me. That’s what Coach Zellman say . . .

troy:
I don’t care what nobody else say. I’m the

boss . . . you understand? I’m the boss around

here. I do the only saying what counts.

cory:
Come on, Pop!

Troy comes right up to Cory, in his

face.

troy:
I asked you . . . Did you understand?

cory:
Yeah . . .

troy:
What?!

cory:
Yessir.

troy:
Yessir.

cory (pause):
Can I ask you a question?

troy:
What the hell you wanna ask me? Mr. Stawicki the

one you got the questions for.

cory:
How come you ain’t never liked me?

troy:
Liked you? Who the hell say I got to like you?

What law is there say I got to like you? Wanna

stand up in my face and ask a damn fool-ass ques

tion like that. Talking about liking somebody.

Come here, boy, when I talk to you.

Cory hesitates, then goes to Troy.

troy:
Straighten up, goddamn it!

Cory does.

troy:
I asked you a question . . . what law is there

say I got to like you?

cory:
None.

troy:
Well, all right then! Don’t you eat every day?

Cory looks down.

troy:
Answer me when I talk to you! Don’t you eat every

day?

cory:
Yeah.

troy:
N*gger, as long as you in my house, you put that

sir on the end of it when you talk to me!

cory:
Yes . . . sir.

troy:
You eat every day.

cory:
Yessir!

troy:
Got a roof over your head.

cory:
Yessir!

troy:
Got clothes on your back.

cory:
Yessir.

troy:
Why you think that is?

cory:
’Cause of you. ’Cause of you.

troy:
Aw, hell, I know it’s ’cause of me . . . but why

do you think that is?

cory (hesitant):
’Cause you like me.

troy:
Like you? I go out of here every morning . . .

bust my butt . . . putting up with them crackers

every day . . . ’cause I like you? You about the

biggest fool I ever saw. It’s my job. It’s my responsibility!

You understand that? A man got to

take care of his family. You live in my house . . .

sleep your behind on my bedclothes . . . fill you

belly up with my food . . . ’cause you my son.

Rose is in the kitchen, listening

through the screen door.

troy:
You my flesh and blood. Not ’cause I like you!

’Cause it’s my duty to take care of you. I owe a

responsibility to you! Let’s get this straight

right here . . . before it go along any further

. . . I ain’t got to like you. Mr. Rand

don’t give me my money come payday ’cause he

likes me. He gives me ’cause he owe me. I done

give you everything I had to give you. I gave you

your life! Me and your mama worked that out between

us. And liking your black ass wasn’t part

of the bargain. Don’t you try and go through life

worrying about if somebody like you or not. You

best be making sure they doing right by you. You

understand what I’m saying, boy?

cory:
Yessir.

troy:
Then get the hell out of my face, and get on

down to that A&P.

Then get the hell out of my face, and get on

down to that A&P.

Cory runs up the stairs, yanks open

the screen door to discover Rose,

standing there. He pushes past her,

letting the door slam. She comes out

onto the porch.

rose (coming down into the yard): Why don’t you let the boy

go ahead and play football, Troy? Ain’t no harm

in that. He’s just trying to be like you with the

sports.

troy:
I don’t want him to be like me! I want him to

move as far away from my life as he can get. You

the only decent thing that ever happened to me. I

wish him that. But I don’t wish him a thing else

from my life.

He starts to put away the sawhorses.

troy:
I decided seventeen years ago that boy wasn’t

getting involved in no sports. Not after what

they did to me in the sports.

rose:
Troy, why don’t you admit you was too old to

play in the major leagues? For once . . . why

don’t you admit that?

troy:
What do you mean too old? Don’t come telling me

I was too old. I just wasn’t the right color.

Hell, I’m fifty-three years old and can do better

than Selkirk’s .269 right now!

rose:
How’s was you gonna play ball when you were

over forty? Sometimes I can’t get no sense out

of you.

troy:
I got good sense, woman. I got sense enough not

to let my boy get hurt over playing no sports. You

been mothering that boy too much. Worried about

if people like him.

rose:
Everything that boy do . . . he do for you. He

wants you to say, “Good job, son.” That’s all.

troy:
Rose, I ain’t got time for that. He’s alive.

He’s healthy. He’s got to make his own way. I made

mine. Ain’t nobody gonna hold his hand when he

get out there in that world.

rose:
Times have changed from when you was young,

Troy. People change. The world’s changing around

you and you can’t even see it.

troy (slow, methodical): Woman...I do the best I can

do. I come in here every Friday. I carry a sack of

potatoes and a bucket of lard. You all line up at

the door with your hands out. I give you the lint

from my pockets. I give you my sweat and my blood.

I ain’t got no tears. I done spent them. We go upstairs

in that room at night . . . and I fall down

on you and try to blast a hole into forever. I get

up Monday morning . . . find my lunch on the table.

I go out. Make my way. Find my strength to carry me

through to the next Friday. That’s all I got, Rose.

Troy starts into the house.

troy:
That’s all I got to give. I can’t give nothing

else!

He goes inside. The door swings shut

behind him. Rose, alone, watching him

go.

INT. CITY HALL—AFTERNOON

We’re moving at a rapid walking pace

looking up at a ceiling fresco of

wpa-era heroic worker figures laying

sewers. The sound of footsteps. The

camera pans down to catch the back of

a white deputy commissioner. He

hurries past various businessmen and

-women, all white, to find troy sitting

in the chair against the opposite

wall, looking nervous, hat in hand.

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