Prologue The kitchen in a small house in el Comandante, a neighborhood in Carolina, Puerto Rico, just outside San Juan. The home is a cement block, completely open to the air, consisting of a carport, a kitchen/sitting area, and two small unseen bedrooms. The doors and windows are various configurations of iron bars. A gnarled mango tree looms over the house, larger than life. Rotten mangos litter the overgrown grass outside. Ismelda, 46, as sturdy as the mango, cleans the kitchen, singing to herself. She puts away dishes, scrubs the counter, sweeps. She goes to the carport, takes clothing from a beat-up washing machine and hangs them out back to dry. Eventually she goes into the backroom, returns with a bed pan that she washes off in the bathroom sink. One by one Yinoelle, 44, and Wicha, 39, enter. They greet each other as sisters do, that is to say a blend of familiar affection and loathing. They settle in around the kitchen table, eating galletas. 1. Suena la tin-tin-tin de una campanita. A small bell. YINOELLE Te toca a ti. [It’s your turn]
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ISMELDA No. Lo hice la ultima vez. Te toca a ti. [No, I did it last time. It’s your turn.] YINOELLE No me toca a mi. Acabo de cambiar sus pampers. [It’s not my turn. I just changed his diapers.] ISMELDA Entonces te toca a ti, Bicha. [Then it’s your turn, Bitchy.] WICHA Don’t call me that. ISMELDA ¿Que prefieres que te llame? ¿Hija de la grandísima perra? ¿La mierda de la crica de tu madre? [What do you prefer I call you? A big ol’ son of a bitch? The shit that dribbled from your mother’s cunt?] YINOELLE Ay fo! [Gross!] WICHA You wonder why I don’t visit more often. YINOELLE No nos culpes a Isma y a mi por la falta de responsabilidad tuya. [Don’t blame me for your lack of responsibility.] WICHA Ay fuck you. Tilín tilín. ISMELDA Bueno, nos jodemos, pero todavía te toca a ti! Vete ya y cuida al canto de mierda ese. [Fine! Fuck us, but it’s still your turn! Now go and take care of the little shit.] WICHA He’ll hear you, speak English! ISMELDA Entiende inglés! [He understands English!]
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WICHA Dios lo bendiga, he doesn’t! He pretends! He pretends to understand inglés cuando actually he’s ashamed to speak the language, pobrecito— YINOELLE Ironic for such a Yanqui lover— Tilín tilín. WICHA Y como quiera what does it hurt? What does it hurt to spare the old man’s feelings? Eh? YINOELLE She has a point, Isma. ISMELDA Fine. Fine! We can speak in fucking English por el resto del día. YINOELLE For the rest of our lives. WICHA For the rest of his life at least. YINOELLE Which, God willing, will be painfully short. Tilín tilín. ISMELDA Bueno, in appreciation of your optimistic words, I’ll go attend the bastard. WICHA You are too kind. Tilín tilín. ISMELDA I’m coming old man, stop your god damn ringing. She exits. YINOELLE It was her turn anyway.
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WICHA You could have said something sooner. YINOELLE What do you think I’ve been doing the last two minutes? But you know Ismelda. Once she decides it’s not her turn, it’s not her turn. WICHA Only because we let her get away with that shit. YINOELLE She’s the eldest. La que manda. [She who rules.] WICHA ¿Y por qué? [Why?] YINOELLE Porque because that’s the way it is. Besides, I wouldn’t want to be in her place. Living here, with mami and papi… así. We get to go home. She’s stuck here, doing everything. WICHA We have kids. Between classes and looking after Antonio I barely have time for myself. YINOELLE At least yours is grown. WICHA At least you have Oswaldo. I raised mine on my own— YINOELLE Spare me the single mother’s lament. It’s not my fault you married an asshole who left you cause your son’s…. Look, I know you’ve got classes to teach, but la IUPI isn’t far and we need your help around here. It’s the least you can do while they’re still around to be a burden to us. WICHA Their final gift. YINOELLE I hope they kept the fucking receipt. Yinoelle gets up to prepare dinner. Ismelda returns.
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YINOELLE What did he want? ISMELDA Who the fuck knows. I can’t understand a word he says when he gets these phlegm attacks. I checked his pampers, checked his fluids and scratched his nose. WICHA He wanted his nose scratched? ISMELDA Son of a bitch always wants his nose scratched. Even when he could move he’d ask us to scratch that veiny, bulbous thing. Got to the point he’d come home from some stupid proU.S. rally, plop down in that chair and all he’d do was lean forward, stick that thing out and I’d know what he wanted. (Wicha gives Ismelda that “I don’t remember that” look all siblings recognize.) He did it all the time! WICHA Never asked me to scratch his nose. ISMELDA He did it all the time. WICHA You’re always making shit up— YINOELLE // Ay, chissss. ISMELDA Fuck you. Beat. Wicha and Ismelda look to Yinoelle, the tiebreaker. The unspoken question before her: did Papi ever ask you to scratch his big fat ugly nose? Yinoelle responds with an “I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about don’t fucking look at me” shrug. ISMELDA Fuck you both. I know it happened.
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YINOELLE Cálmate, ‘mana, no one's saying it didn’t happen. It just didn’t happen to the rest of us. Beat. ISMELDA Figures. YINOELLE Well he stopped ringing so you must’ve done something right. WICHA That never happens. Ismelda baps her on the head. Wicha baps Ismelda’s hand in retaliation. WICHA That was not an insult to you. I love the man but he’s never satisfied. ISMELDA True. WICHA When’s mami supposed to be back? YINOELLE Now. Tío Erick might stay for dinner, thank god. ISMELDA Erick. Tío focking Erick. Why couldn’t mami have married tío focking Erick instead of his holier-than-thou drunk of a brother? WICHA You’re kidding, right? ISMELDA He’s been a saint since she was diagnosed, taking her to chemo, staying with her while we’re dealing with his pain-in-the-ass brother. I think he has the hots for her. WICHA Ismelda, tío Erick's gay. ISMELDA (Chusps). No he’s not. 6
WICHA When was the last time you saw him with a woman? ISMELDA He had some girlfriend in high school that he was obsessed with—he’d talk about her all the time when we were kids. She was a sastre, they were gonna get married, but something went down, some gang bullshit and he wound up killing her brother, and there was some big knife fight and oh my god that’s the plot to Westside Story and tío Erick is a fucking maricón. She looks to Yinoelle, the “you knew about this?” look. Yinoelle gives the “who didn’t” shrug. ISMELDA Why didn’t anybody tell me? YINOELLE We thought you knew. ISMELDA So his friend Jorge…? YINOELLE Is no his friend. Is his boyfriend. ISMELDA Fucking Christ. I spent my entire childhood imagining how much better our lives would be if tío Erick had been our father. And now it turns out he’s a sexual pervert. WICHA Being a homosexual // is not the same as being a sexual pervert. That is just backward, jíbara— ISMELDA Cool it with the fucking PFLAG-look-at-me-I’ve-got-a-gay-son // martyrdom bullshit okay— YINOELLE Cut it out, the both of you. Mami’s home. They stop and listen for a moment. There’s no indication perceptible to the audience
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that she is right, but Wicha and Ismelda know she is. Wicha exits. Ismelda stands and brushes off her chair. Yinoelle grabs some galletas, puts them on a plate and goes to pour a glass of milk. Wicha re-enters, supporting MAMI. Ismelda holds out her seat. Wicha helps her sit. Yinoelle places the galletas and milk in front of her. Mami takes a cookie, dunks it in the milk, and takes a bite. Once she has swallowed, Yinoelle and Wicha sit. Ismelda leans against the counter. MAMI ¿Está despierto tu papa? [Is your father awake?] ISMELDA Si mami. [Yes, mami.] MAMI Pues… ok then. ISMELDA How was chemo? MAMI Most fun I’ve had in ages. Your tío Erick did impressions. He does an Eartha Kit… bien chulo. It’s pretty good for a sexual pervert. Ismelda gives Wicha the “you fucking told her?” look. Wicha responds with the “what the fuck are you talking about?” shrug. MAMI I heard. And so did he. Which is why he won’t be staying for dinner. ISMELDA Oh god, mami, I’m // sorry—
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MAMI Eh, eh, eh, eh—you will not apologize to me, you will apologize to your tío. You will make a calderón of arroz con habichuelas colora’ and you will take it to him tomorrow morning and you will get down on your knees and you will beg his forgiveness. And when he gives it to you, you will kiss his feet and thank him for the privilege of being his niece. ISMELDA But mami, he’s— MAMI We know what he is and we do not speak of it. Más que nada, he is your tío, and I raised you to do many things, god willing, but I did not raise you to turn your back on family. Now ven aca, mija. Ismelda comes to her mother and leans down. ISMELDA Bendición, mami. MAMI You of all people should know better than to judge someone for their “sexual perversions.” Que Dios te bendiga, m’ija. Mami kisses her on the forehead. MAMI What’s for dinner? YINOELLE I’m making chuletas. MAMI Bueno. I like chuletas. El tilín tilín de la campañita. MAMI Miércoles, whose idea was it to give him that thing. ISMELDA The physical therapist.
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MAMI Remind me to fire that physical therapist. I’ll be right back— WICHA Siéntate, mami. I’ll go. Wicha exits. MAMI She is a good daughter. ISMELDA Did the doctor say anything new? MAMI Doctors never say anything new, m’ija. That’s why they become doctors. Lack of imagination. ISMELDA Did they check // the progress of the— MAMI They’ll be doing all the tests next time. Every last one. Concho! Someone should make a law. Make it illegal to get the same cancer twice. ISMELDA I don’t think it works that way— MAMI M’ija, I know. But they could make a law that if your cancer comes back, you get a refund. Or at the very least they give you a new car. Or a toaster. Un sandwich o un plato de carne asa’a—something. Something nice. To make up for it. Yinoelle, are the chuletas ready? YINOELLE Just about. Ismelda, can you help me with the arroz? Wicha enters. ISMELDA What did el viejo want? WICHA He wants to eat with us tonight.
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