LALO (amused. Clapping). Bravo. A fine performance.
BEBA (amused. Clapping). You deserve an award.
LALO. We’ll have to invent one.
BEBA. She’s one to watch.
LALO. She’s an imbecile.
BEBA. She’s sensational.
LALO. She’s an idiot.
BEBA. She’s a saint. (They applaud furiously and mockingly.)
CUCA. Go on, laugh. My time will come. And then I’ll show no mercy.
LALO. What do you mean?
CUCA. I’ll do what I feel like.
LALO. You just try.
CUCA. You can’t order me about. (She walks back a few steps, moving away from them.)
LALO (sarcastically). You’re getting scared. (Laughs.)
CUCA (furiously). I’ve got hands, nails, teeth.
LALO (aggressively, defiantly). I’m in charge now.
CUCA. Don’t come near me.
LALO. You’ll do what I tell you. (Seizes her arm and they begin to fight.)
CUCA (furiously). Let go.
LALO. Will you obey me?
CUCA. Bully.
LALO. You’ll do anything I tell you.
CUCA. You’re hurting me.
LALO. Yes or no?
CUCA. It’s not fair . . . (Totally defeated.) All right, I’ll do anything you tell me.
LALO. Quick. Get up.
CUCA (to BEBA). Help me.
BEBA walks towards CUCA. LALO stops her with one movement. CUCA pretends that she cannot get up.
LALO. Let her get up on her own.
BEBA (to LALO). Forgive her.
LALO (shouting). Keep out of this.
BEBA (desperately). Oh, you’re always shouting! I can’t stand it. I came here to help you or to have fun. Because I don’t know what else to do . . . Round and round we go . . . We get shouted at for anything: for a glass of water, a bar of soap on the floor, a dirty towel, a broken ashtray . . . Aren’t there more important things to live for? I wonder sometimes what the clouds, the trees, the rain, and the animals are all for. Shouldn’t we stop and think about these things? And I run to the window and stick my head out . . . But Mum and Dad start shouting again: ‘What are you thinking of, child? Look at the dust and soot on the window. Get inside, or you’ll catch a cold.’ If I go to the living room and turn on the radio, they say: ‘You’re wasting electricity. Last month and the month before that we used so much and we can’t go on like this. Turn it off. That noise is driving me crazy.’ Or if I start singing that song you made up recently, ‘The living room’s not the living room,’ the whole house explodes like an upturned ants’ nest, and they start shouting again: Mum and Dad shout at Lalo, Lalo shouts at Mum, Mum shouts at Lalo, Lalo shouts at Dad, Dad shouts at Lalo, and I’m left in the middle. In the end I come and hide here . . . But you don’t even notice and carry on arguing, as if this house’s problems could be solved with words. And now you two end up rowing as well. Oh, I can’t bear it any more. (Determined.) I’m getting out. (LALO grabs her arm.) Let me go. I don’t want to hear any more about it. Deaf, blind. Dead, dead.
LALO (tenderly but firmly). Don’t say that.
BEBA. That’s what I want.
LALO. If you helped me, perhaps we can save ourselves.
BEBA (looking up at him suddenly amazed). What do you mean? (She holds on to his arms.) All right, we can do it. Today.
LALO quickly picks up two knives. He examines their edges and starts scraping them against each other.
BEBA (to LALO). Are you going to tell the story again?
CUCA (to BEBA). Quiet, please.
BEBA moves about the stage. Each character takes up a distinctive position.
BEBA (as gossiping neighbour). Shall I tell you something, Cacha? It was in all the papers. Yes, dear, yes. But you know old Margaret who lives at the corner, and Pantaleón, who’s only got one eye? Well, they saw everything, and I mean everything. And they told me all about it.
LALO (scraping the two knives quite firmly). Ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac.
BEBA (as drunk shop-keeper). Old Pantaleón and Margaret know everything . . . Bloody hell! Some mothers do ’ave em, I tell you. What is the world coming to . . . ? Have you seen the photo on the front page?
LALO (scraping the two knives violently). Ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac.
BEBA (as MARGARET speaking to her friends). We dropped round there about half-past nine . . . The usual time. Well dear, the moment I walked in I said to myself: ‘Goodness gracious me. Something’s funny here.’ You know me, I have a nose for these things, and sure enough. What a sight, dearie! (Horrified.) Blood all over the place. It was frightful. Look at my hair, it’s still standing on end. Oh, it makes me shiver all over. I can’t describe it properly, you should have seen the . . . Ugh! It’s horrible even thinking about it. A stream, incredible . . . I think there were some syringes. Isn’t that right, Pantaleón? And pills and ampoules . . . Those children are wicked, and it’s in their family. Oh, Consolación, ask Angelita what she saw a few days ago . . . Awful! And such sweet parents, so self-sacrificing. It’s that Lalo, he’s the ringleader. No doubt about it. It was him, him and no-one else . . . Ah! you should have seen his knife . . . Dear Lord, what a butchers knife!
LALO (in his own world). Ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac.
BEBA (as PANTALEON). I said to Maggie: ‘Hold your horses, woman.’ But she immediately started blathering on about the youth of today, and how awful they all are . . . You know what a blabber she is. They . . . No, I tell a lie. He, Lalo . . . Although at times I can’t help thinking that . . . Well, goodness knows who did it . . . But I could almost swear on it. Because the girls . . . I can’t see it. If you had seen Lalo’s face . . . It was incredible. He looked possessed . . . Yes, yes, the devil in person. He almost tried to beat us up . . . And me with my arthritis . . . I won’t stand for it. I don’t care what he does; that’s his problem. But insulting us . . . Well, God may forgive him, but I won’t! He’s a nasty piece of work, a right bastard . . . Ah, if you had seen that bloodbath . . . And smelt the stench . . . It’s all so weird, isn’t it! (With an hysterical giggle.) You’re lucky you didn’t see it . . . It was grisly . . . Grisly, yes . . . Grisly is the word . . . We must do something. (Grandiosely.) We would like to make a formal complaint against this inhuman child. (In another tone of voice.) What do you think?
LALO (still playing his bizarre game). Ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac.
LALO continues scraping the knives together. This simple action, combined with the sounds that he makes, builds up to a delirious climax. CUCA becomes a newspaper boy, BEBA goes upstage.
CUCA (yelling). Morning news! Latest news! Murder on Church Street! Buy a copy, lady. Don’t miss it, sweetheart. Thirty-year-old son butchers his parents! See how the blood ran . . . Full-colour supplement. (In a sing-song voice.) Forty times he stabbed his wrinklies! Forty times! Photos of the innocent parents! Buy it! It’ll really shock you, sir! Frightening, folks! Morning news! (To back. Drifting off.) Latest news.
LALO (continuing to play his game). Ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric- rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac, ric-rac.
Pause. BEBA walks downstage centre.
BEBA (as father). Lalo, what have you been up to? What are you staring at? Take that look off your face. Who have you been with? Tell me. Knives? What do you think you’re doing with those knives? Answer me. Have you lost your tongue? Why are you home so late?
LALO (as teenager). I bumped into some friends, Dad . . .
BEBA (as father). Give those to me. (Taking the knives away violently.) Always messing about. (Checking the sharpness of a knife.) That is sharp. Are you planning to kill someone? Tell me, I want an answer. Don’t just stand there, you idiot. Who do you think you are? Why didn’t you ask my permi
ssion? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: this is no time to come home. (She slaps him around.) When will you learn some respect? How do you think your mother feels? Eh? You’re breaking her heart! Is that what you want? Do you want us both to die of broken hearts? You just don’t think! And take that look off your face. (She pushes him towards the chair.) Sit down. Do you want me to ground you again? (LALO makes a gesture.) Don’t answer back. Such insolence. I’ve given you everything. You brat, you wicked, ungrateful brat. It’s me who makes all the sacrifices . . . Yes, your mother gets at me for going out with my friends and the girls from the office. Well, more than one business deal has fallen through because of you and the rest of my family. Can’t you see the sacrifices I’ve made? Thirty years . . . Thirty years behind a desk getting ulcers from being pushed around by my bosses, doing without . . . I don’t even have a proper suit, or a decent pair of shoes. And this is how you pay me back! Thirty years is no joke. Thirty years working for my son, and today he turns out to be a good-for-nothing, a slob who doesn’t want to work or study . . . Well, tell me, what do you want? And what have you been up to?
LALO (trembling). We were reading . . .
BEBA (as father). Reading? Reading what? What do you mean, reading . . . ?
LALO (thoughtfully). An adventure magazine, Dad.
CUCA walks downstage centre confidently, with mischievous intent. BEBA goes upstage.
CUCA (as mother). Magazines. Magazines. Magazines. That’s a lie. Tell us another. Tell us the truth. (BEBA, as father, approaches LALO aggressively.) No, Albert, don’t hit him. (To LALO.) Where is the money I hid in the sideboard? Did you take it? Have you spent it? Have you lost it? (With hatred.) Thief. You little swine. You bastard. (Tears welling in her eyes.) I’ll tell your father. No, don’t say anything. You’re a disgrace. He’ll kill you if he finds out. Holy Mary, mother of God, what have I done to deserve this? (Furiously, to LALO.) Come on, give me back the money. Give it back or I’ll call the police . . . (Rifles through LALO’s pockets. He submits completely. She screams.) Thief. You bloody thief. I will tell your father. I ought to beat you. Whip you. Put you in reform school. (LALO has his back to the audience.)
BEBA (from upstage, like a little child). Mum, mum, is this an elephant?
LALO (as father). Beba, come here. Show me your hands. (BEBA walks downstage centre. Shows him her hands.) Those nails must be cut. They make you look like a . . . (To CUCA.) Give me some scissors, woman. (CUCA goes up to LALO and whispers in his ear.) What? What’s that? Really? And Lalo? Where’s he gone? (CUCA and LALO look at BEBA with evil intent.) Is it true what your mother says? Come on, own up. Own up, or I’ll . . . So you lifted your skirt and showed your knickers off to a bunch of perverts? Can this be true? (BEBA gesticulates silently.) You filthy creature. (CUCA, as mother, smiles.) I’m going to . . . (LALO and CUCA corner BEBA.) Do you want to become a whore, is that it? Huh? (Shaking BEBA by the shoulders.) Well, not while I’m alive, do you hear? If I catch you doing anything sluttish, I’ll kill you. Is that clear? (Pause.) Where is your brother. (Calling.) Lalo, Lalo! (To CUCA.) You say he’s stolen some money from you?
BEBA (coming out of part). I can’t. My head’s exploding.
LALO (ordering). Go on, you can’t stop.
CUCA (sarcastically). Do what your master says.
BEBA (agonized). Air, I need some air.
LALO (To BEBA.) The doorbell’s ringing.
BEBA collapses on to a chair.
CUCA (as mother). Have you heard, Albert?
BEBA (desperately). Please, I think I’m going to be sick.
LALO (annoyed). She ruins everything, she does.
CUCA (as mother). Sshh! Wait a second, children. There goes the doorbell again.
BEBA (as father. Greeting an imaginary person who comes through the door). Come in, Angelita. How lovely to see you.
CUCA (as mother. To BEBA). Tell me, poppet. Go on, you can tell me. What’s wrong? (Feigning self-denial and concern.)
LALO (as father. To the imaginary person). Don’t stand on ceremony, Angelita. (His tone of voice is convincingly cordial and spontaneous.) Make yourself at home. Please sit down.
CUCA (as mother. To BEBA). Make yourself comfortable, honey. Do you want a cushion? (Her words are heavy with sincerity.) Why don’t you just lean back and relax?
LALO (as father). And Lalo? Where’s he hiding? Oh, Angelita, you have no idea what those kids are like. Only three of them, but it’s still like living in a war zone.
CUCA (as mother. To LALO). Albert, I think . . . (To the imaginary person.) I’m so sorry, Angelita, I’m not looking after you very well, but I think my little girl might be sick; she’s got a tummy ache . . .
LALO (as father). Have you taken her temperature? (CUCA nods.)
CUCA (as mother). How very embarrassing.
LALO (as father, to the imaginary person). You see what I mean? They’re little devils. But I don’t let them get away with anything. I rule them with a rod of iron, although not literally of course.
CUCA (as mother. Anxious. To LALO). What can we do?
LALO (as father). Does she have a temperature? (CUCA shakes her head.) Have you given her some camomile tea?
CUCA (as mother). She doesn’t want anything.
LALO (as father). Well, make her then.
CUCA (as mother). She’ll be sick.
LALO (as father). Give her some normal tea then.
CUCA (as mother). Oh, Angelita, you can’t imagine the suffering, the grief . . . Why did we ever have children?
LALO (as father. Forcing her to drink from a teacup). Drink. (BEBA rejects it.) Do what I say. Drink it all up.
BEBA (screams; out of part). Just leave me alone. (Gets up furiously. Centre stage.) You’re monsters. You’re both the same. (Shouting upstage.) I want to go. Let me go. (CUCA and LALO try to stop her, but she gets to the door. Screaming.) Mum, Dad, get me out of here. (Falls beside the door, crying.) Get me out of here.
LALO (as father). What’s going on?
CUCA. Nice performance. (Going up to BEBA.) You, it had to be you . . . You always push me into it: ‘Go on, don’t be wet. It’ll be a laugh.’ I can’t believe it. Come on, up you get. (Helps her to get up. As mother.) Remember we’ve got a visitor. (To the imaginary visitor.) They’re so spoiled, it’s exhausting . . . (To BEBA. Taking her back to the chair where she had been sitting.) That’s a girl, aren’t you a good girl, well done . . .
BEBA (as little girl). I want to go.
CUCA (as mother). Where do you want to go, pet?
LALO (out of part; violently). This isn’t right. There’s no point.
CUCA (as mother). Don’t lose your temper, Albert.
LALO (out of part). I feel like strangling her.
CUCA (as mother). Patience.
BEBA (crying). I’m scared.
LALO (out of part). Scared of what? Why is she crying?
CUCA (as mother). Ignore it. That’s the best way, Albert.
LALO (as father. Awkwardly). It’s just that sometimes . . . (Slapping his right knee.) You don’t understand, woman.
CUCA (as mother). What do you mean I don’t understand? (Sighs.) Oh, Albert, what a baby you are. Isn’t he, Angelita?
BEBA (furiously. Gets up). I want to do something. I’m going to crack up. I want to go. I can’t stand being shut up. I’m suffocating. I’m going to die and I don’t want to be crushed, buried in this room. Anything but that. I don’t want any more of this. Please, please, please, let me go.
CUCA goes up to BEBA and puts her arm around her. She feigns great tenderness with her expression and gestures.)
CUCA (as mother). Go if you must, my darling. You are a little worked up. (BEBA stays in the dark, upstage. CUCA returns with a smile that gives way to laughter.) Have you ever seen anything like it? It was as if we were torturing her. What imaginations these children have . . . ! (Sits down and arranges her hair.) Look at me. I must look like a dog’s dinner. I haven’t had time to catch my breat
h all day. What an ordeal, Angelita, what an ordeal! I’m so sorry I’ve not been looking after you better . . . (Listens to the imaginary person.) But you’re like one of the family. (Smiles hypocritically.) All the same, I do like to do things properly. Don’t I, Albert? Don’t lose your cool so easily, dear. We must stay perfectly calm and collected. (LALO gets up.) Where are you going? Think carefully before you do anything. (LALO looks at her pointedly.) Ah yes, I understand. (LALO walks to the dark side of the stage.) He’s gone to keep an eye on what those little terrors are up to. You need eyes in the back of your head, or rather everywhere . . . You have to keep your ear to the ground. You always have to be on the watch, on the lookout, because they can be very, very naughty.
At this moment LALO enters with an old and dirty bridal veil. LALO imitates his mother in her youth, on her wedding day in church. In the background, BEBA hums the wedding march. LALO’s movements should not be exaggerated. A certain ambiguity prevails on this occasion.
LALO (as mother). Oh, Albert, I’m scared. The smell of the flowers, the music . . . So many people have come, haven’t they? Your sister Rose didn’t come, nor did your cousin Lola . . . They don’t like me! I know they don’t, Albert! I know it! They’ve been saying horrible things about me, and about my mother too. Oh, I don’t know! Do you really love me, Albert? Do I look pretty? Ah, my tummy hurts. Smile. There’s that creep Dr. Nuñez and his wife . . . Do you think people are counting the months? If they find out, I’ll die of embarrassment. Look, Espinosa’s daughters are smiling at you, those sluts, whoops, did I say that word . . . ? Ah, Albert, I feel dizzy, my tummy hurts, hold me, don’t tread on my train or I’ll fall over . . . Oh, honey, I want to get rid of this baby . . . I know you’re determined to have it, but I don’t want it . . . Oh, I’m going to faint . . . Albert, Albert, this is ridiculous . . . We didn’t have to get married today, another day would have been better . . . Oh, that music and the smell of those flowers, ugh! And there’s your mother, that bitch, whoops, did I say that word . . . ? Ah, I don’t know . . . Albert, I can’t breathe . . . This damned brat! I’d like to rip it out myself . . .
Latin American Plays Page 8