Barbara Park sits alone in the driver’s seat of her car, looking forward, hands in her lap. There aren’t any keys in the ignition. She has a large mom-sized purse on the floor of the passenger seat. There’s a campus map on the seat beside her with one of the dorms circled in red.

Outside the car, Soo-Min (Min) opens the trunk, looks inside, then closes it. Then she opens the passenger door and looks in at her mom.

Soo-Min: Okay!

Barbara: Okay!

Soo-Min: That’s everything.

Barbara nods.

Min hands her mother the keys, which have a pretty flower fob on them.

Soo-Min: Okay.

Barbara: I’m not going to cry.

Min gets into the car and closes the door.

Soo-Min: Mom…

Barbara wipes her eyes.

Barbara: I’m just fine. You can go in. Are you and that girl—

Soo-Min: Marlene.

Barbara: —Marlene going to eat dinner together down in the cafeteria?

Soo-Min: I’m going to be fine.

Barbara: You’re going to be great. You’re going to be…

Soo-Min: Twenty-eight miles away.

Barbara: Twenty-eight point three.

(beat)

Not that I’m counting.

Soo-Min: Yeah.

Barbara: This is going to be the best time in your life.

Soo-Min: I’m going to miss you, too.

Barbara: (sharply)
Don’t get sentimental. We promised. No crying.

Min lies down with her head in her mother’s lap. Barbara smooths her hand over Min’s hair.

Barbara: You can call me any time. Three o’clock in the morning. Anytime. And I will come and get you, if you need me to.

Soo-Min: I know.

Barbara: Even if you’re drunk.

Soo-Min: Mom!

Barbara: I’m not telling you to get drunk. You should never get drunk. But if you are drunk, you can still call me.

Soo-Min: Okay.

Barbara: But don’t take drugs.

Soo-Min: Will you please—

Barbara: I’ll still pick you up, but—

Soo-Min: You are going crazy.

Barbara looks out the window. Sniffles.

Barbara: No crying.

Min sits up, sitting backwards and cross-legged in the middle of the front seat, right beside her mom. She wipes the tears off her mom’s face with her fingertips.

Barbara: I am so proud of you. Did I tell you that?

Soo-Min: Yes.

Barbara: Don’t get pregnant.

Soo-Min: You are killing me, here.

Barbara: But if you do, you call me. Don’t change your major without telling me. Tommy Collingsley changed his major from Accounting to Cinematic Arts and they didn’t know it until he walked at graduation and they called his name at the wrong place, and they thought there had been some mistake, because for five years they thought they were paying for—

Soo-Min: I like biology.

Barbara: I know.

(beat)

I know you like biology.

(beat)

But this is the moment when everything… changes for you.

Soo-Min: (a long pause)

Maybe I should go to community college. It’s closer…

Barbara: No!

Soo-Min: Maybe I should—

Barbara: You’re going here.

Soo-Min: It’s really, really expensive.

Barbara: You have a scholarship.

Soo-Min: Which doesn’t even start to cover—

Barbara: You are worth it! You are worth… everything. I will do anything for you. I will do…

Soo-Min: I’m scared.

Barbara grabs Min’s hands and clutches them to her heart. A long moment.

Barbara: I didn’t go to school.

Soo-Min: Mommy…

Barbara: But you… You are so smart! You are—

Soo-Min: What if nobody likes me?

Barbara: Everybody is going to like you!

Soo-Min: What if they don’t?

Barbara: You are the prettiest, smartest girl at this whole school. And you are going to meet wonderful friends. And teachers. And you’re going to have great classes.

Soo-Min: I know.

Barbara: Your dad would be…

Min buries her head in her mother’s shoulder.

Barbara: Your dad would be so proud of you.

A moment.

Barbara: Don’t start smoking, even if everybody else is doing it. It’s really hard to stop.

Soo-Min: Okay.

Barbara: And always open your own drinks. Never take a drink that somebody else poured. They could put something in it. I read an article.

Soo-Min: Okay.

Min pulls away.

Soo-Min: Are you going to be okay?

Barbara: I’ll be fine.

Soo-Min: Really?

Barbara nods.

Barbara: You should have a car.

Soo-Min: I don’t need a car. I’m living on campus.

Barbara: I’m going to try to talk your uncle into giving you his old car when he gets a new one.

Soo-Min: Okay. But I don’t need one.

Barbara: I feel like I have ten minutes to tell you everything I should have spent the last eighteen years telling you.

Min smiles.

Barbara: Oh! Give me my purse.

Min finds Barbara’s purse and gives it to her. Barbara opens her purse, and pulls out a shoebox, covered in pretty wrapping paper. She hands it to Min.

Soo-Min: What is it?

Barbara: Open it.

Min opens the package. Inside, she finds a ragged, much-loved stuffed animal. She takes it out and hugs it.

Barbara: Okay.

Soo-Min: Okay, what?

Barbara: Now you’re ready for college.

Barbara nudges Min’s chin up.

Barbara: Are you ready?

Min nods. She pushes back into the passenger seat. Then she gets out of the car and closes the door behind her.

A moment.

Then Barbara digs in her purse and takes out her cell phone. She dials from memory and puts the phone to her ear.

Min’s phone rings, and she turns back toward the car.

Barbara: I forgot something.

Barbara hangs up, then gets out of the car, closing the door behind her. She leans against the door as Min returns. Barbara opens her arms and hugs Min, and hugs her. Finally, Min pulls away and is gone.

Barbara gets back in the car and puts the keys into the ignition but doesn’t turn on the engine. She smiles, and begins to weep at the same time.

End of Play.

About the Play

I wrote Drop-Off Day when I was living in Los Angeles. Working at USC, I had a front row seat to the yearly ritual where parents dropped their kids off at college for the first time. It was always such an emotional process! Parents wanting their kids to go forth, into the world— and wanting to keep them close at the same time.

This play was written for a special project that the theater company I belonged to at the time, Moving Arts, was putting together. It was called “The Car Plays”— and consisted of a whole bunch of short plays that our company members and friends wrote to be performed in cars, to an audience of two at a time. The most intimate theater you can imagine! It’s been a pleasure to see a number of different sets of actors bring this play to life over the years. It’s still a favorite of mine! I hope you’ll like it. —E.M. Lewis

••
E.M. Lewis BA’94 is an award-winning playwright, teacher, and opera librettist. Her work has been produced around the world and published by Samuel French. She received both the Steinberg Award and the Primus Prize from the American Theater Critics Association, a Hodder Fellowship from Princeton University, an Oregon Literary Fellowship, and a Distinguished Alumni Citation from Willamette. She’s currently part of the Mellon Foundation’s National Playwright Residency Program, in residence at Artists Repertory Theater in Portland. Lewis teaches playwriting at Lesley University and lives on her family’s farm in Oregon.