THE LIBERATION OF CARMELA LOPEZ
By Marisel Vera | Adapted by Alyssa Vera Ramos
Copyright Alyssa Vera Ramos, 2011
ACT ONE
(Lights up on NARRATOR, an adult version of CARMELA in an undetermined space.
She freely interacts with the audience and the scenes of the play, physically pointing out details and
addressing anyone, but none of the characters can feel that she is there – except perhaps, at special, rare
times of pensiveness, CARMELA.
Every character acts in the moment. They are the present of the past.)
NARRATOR: My Friend Fear. Fear sleeps with me, wakes up tucked between my legs. I can’t remember
a time when I haven’t been afraid, a time when I was like other children skipping down the sidewalk with
a light heart. I imagine I was free of worries at two or three, aren’t all young children? I can recall the
day I saw another little girl spinning round and round (Light clicks on to spotlight on a GIRL, giggling,
dancing and spinning around. NARR notices her, takes in some of her joy), her skirt flowing about her
hips, her laughter floating through the air like rainbow soap bubbles. I stood on the grass and watched her
(CARMELA appears. NARR sees her, knows her, CARMELA’s whole self), each happy squeal a pinprick
in my heart: such joy, such pure delight in the motion of her feet, in the sun on her face. (Beat. NARR
takes CARMELA’s hands and starts to spin with her. CARMELA’s eyes are closed, and if the NARR’s
physical body were not there, it would look like CARMELA was twirling alone.) Later, I tried to twirl as
she had (they do, a bit – but the NARR breaks off and CARMELA stops, looks around, frightened and
vigilant, as if caught by an unseen presence.) but I worried that my panties might show, that a neighbor
would see and tell my mother, that I would fall and scrape my leg on the sidewalk or break my ankle and
Mami would have to carry me three blocks to the bus stop to Cook County Hospital and then who would
be home to run Papi’s bath, to cook his dinner? He wouldn’t like that. Such thoughts should be beyond
those of a child. (CARMELA takes in a breath. She might finger her crucifix or rub her fingers together,
the rest of her body still.)
CARMELA: I pray each night that the day won’t come when it will be us tossed out onto the grass like
garbage. I fear
MAMI: Mami and Papi whispering in the kitchen, sorting the bills, fingering for the tenth time
NARR: the dollars and handful of change in Papi’s pay envelope as if perhaps it has multiplied. Fear is
CARMELA: Papi recuperating from a fall on the ice that injured his back;
PAPI: Papi home for six months yelling at us kids for talking too much, laughing too hard, for not eating
all our rice and beans that we should thank God we had some to waste; Papi sending us for the belt
NARR: or taking off his slipper at his whim. My brothers and I learn to play in the shadows, to live in
whispers. My mother’s
hands are never still, unless she’s asleep or praying, they jitter like lace fans each time Papi erupts.
CARMELA: At night, in the room I share with my little brother, I hear something scratching the wood
floor beneath my bed. Mice or worse: a super rat. I saw that special report on Channel 7 where super rats
as big as cats bounced down the steps of the subway station like they had train tickets. If super rats can
pounce on top of trains, what kind of challenge is a bed? On second thought, maybe it’s not even human.
It’s the devil. Got to be. Mami says the devil can be anywhere and can take on human form, and that’s
why we always have to be wary of others, that’s why we always have to watch our behavior. Fear weighs
down my limbs. I think I’ve stopped breathing, but my face is trembling too much to be sure. More
scratching. It’s only scratching. I know I will have a heart attack. What can I do? Cry out? Scream?
Wake Carlito and scare him too? Give him an asthma attack. Good-bye favorite brother. That’ll leave
me with only Junior, my personal devil. And Mami, she’ll come running and admonish me for being
MAMI: Such a miedosa. Muchacha, you’re so brave during the day, save some of that for the night. (She
may slap CARMELA upside the head.)
CARMELA: What you can ignore during the day slaps you upside the head in the dark. (She pauses,
listens, breathes heavy.) I synchronize my heartbeat to the rhythm of my little brother’s wheezing. His
small chest is thick with mucus. I worry if his bronchitis will ever be cured. Run a hot shower the doctor
said. Let the vapor clear out his congestion.
NARR: We have water in winter; water gushes out the faucets, but it’s the icy water of the poor. For
people like us, winter means no hot water.
PAPI: Papi phones the landlord yet again
NARR: - practices before he calls to thin out his accent.
PAPI: “Mr. Lipinski, son sick, children wear coats to bed, wife boil water all day. Heat, Mr. Lipinski,
need heat,” Papi says.
MR LIPINSKI: Mr. Lipinski drives down from the suburbs and unlocks the padlocks on the basement
door.
NARR: We hear banging on the pipes, imagine a wisp of vapor, smell what memory tells us is heat
MAMI: And Mami places pots of water on each radiator (does this, softly).
MR. LIPINSKI: Mr. Lipinski tells Papi, “You’re on the third floor, it’ll be a while.”
CARMELA: Fear
NARR: is Papi forced to use food stamps
CARMELA: and the lady cashier—not much older than me—
NARR: telling him
WOMAN: You can’t buy toilet paper with food stamps, don’t you people know it’s only for food?
NARR: Fear is seeing my all powerful and invincible father—a human incarnation of God—flush red in
his sallow skin. We don’t buy the toilet paper and use old newspapers that we toss in a brown grocery
bag.
(CARLITO starts to wheeze, action turns to him; MAMI and CARMELA take him to the hospital.)
CARMELA: Fear is taking Carlito to the Asthma Clinic down at Cook County Hospital. First, we have
to take two buses down to the South Side where the morenos live. At Cook County, we register and wait.
NARR: It could take all day, but we’ll never complain because it’s free for people from our income level.
DR. PATEL: In a cubicle, Dr. Patel (he comes up to MAMI, shakes her hand)
CARMELA (seeing his nametag/hearing his name): ...all the doctors are Dr. Patels…
DR. PATEL: gives Mami syrup for Carlito’s bronchitis, pills for his asthma (he leaves)
CARMELA: I hope the pills work. The last pill was so big that we called it the horse pill;
CARLITO: it made Carlito’s heart race like he was having a heart attack.
NARR: We carried him back on the bus, waited for hours before another Dr. Patel told Mami to
DR. PATEL: ( his nametag says “Dr. Patel”): Cut the pill in half. That should do the trick. (He leaves
immediately.)
(MAMI and CARMELA look at DR. PATEL’s retreating back. MAMI places her hand on a distracted
CARLITO’s back. CARMELA and NARR see this, and the look on MAMI’s face.)
CARMELA/NARR: Don’t tell me I don’t know fear.
EVERYONE: Part One.
NARR: In the Bushes. I was eight that time I was in the bushes with Señor Cruz. He was checking out
my breasts, or maybe I should say chest, because I was as flat as Mami's ironing board although not as
pretty as the flowered fabric that covered it. I did it for money. Six pennies.
SENOR CRUZ and NARR: "Show me and I give you this,"
NARR: Señor Cruz says. He held out his brown wrinkled hand. (SENOR CRUZ does this) The noon sun
slammed its rays against the hallway window. I could feel a long dribble of sweat streak down my back.
This was the first time anyone had ever wanted to give me money. My gaze locked on the shiny copper
as if I were in a trance.
CARMELA: I could smell his morning café mingled with the Marlboros he smoked. I turned my face
away from his sour breath.
SENOR CRUZ: Señor Cruz smiled, flashing his gray toothless gums. "You want this money, don't you?
For candy.."
NARR: I knew I couldn't buy much candy with six pennies, especially not my favorite, a chocolate bar
that cost ten cents. Still, we walked deeper into the bushes in front of our building where the thick
branches scratched my legs.
CARMELA: I welcomed the pain. I was going to hell anyway as I was sure Mami would say; I might as
well start getting used to it.
MAMI: Carmela. Carmela. ¿Donde estás?"
NARR: Mami yelled out the window, her voice breaking through the day's quietness, cracking through
the years of obeying without question, flicking on a glimmer of understanding that I didn't have to do as
Señor Cruz wanted, even if he were my elder. I was sure that if she ever found out, Mami would tell Papi
and he'd kill Señor Cruz.
CARMELA: My teeth chattered in my mouth
NARR: the way they did when Mami told me her stories about growing up in Puerto Rico, of the
blackness of the mountain nights where Spirits wandered the countryside seeking souls to possess.
CARMELA: I tried to think of a respectful way to say no to Señor Cruz. I had never said no to an adult
before.
SENOR CRUZ: “Show me.” Señor Cruz brushed back his hat. He jabbed a nicotine stained thumb in the
air, inches from my chest.
NARR: It was too late. He was blocking my way out of the bushes. I yanked on the elastic band, pulling
my blouse away from my skin. He perched on his toes although he was only an inch or so taller than me.
SENOR RUZ: His black eyes stared at my chest.
CARMELA: I looked also at the two circles sitting in a perfect balance.
NARR: I didn't get what the big deal was about my nipples, but I knew I wasn't supposed to be showing
them around.
CARMELA: I crossed my arms over them.
NARR: I don’t know if my nipples met his expectation but he dropped the pennies coin by coin into my
hand before holding a sausage-sized finger to his lips. My body trembled, but not so much that I thought
Mami would notice. I left him giggling in the bushes.
CARMELA: I ran upstairs to our third floor apartment keeping my mind blank, hoping I could make it to
the bathroom without Mami seeing me.
MAMI: "Carmela, ven aquí."
NARR: Not for a moment did I think of disobeying her. Mami called me; I came to her.
(We see MAMI sitting in the living room, perhaps sewing, JUNIOR and CARLITO are there too, watching
TV and probably eating.)
MAMI: "Carmela."
NARR: Her voice was already asking the question.
CARMELA: I stood in front of her, careful to glance just to the left of her eyes so she wouldn’t think I
was challenging her authority.
JUNIOR: "Whacha got in your hand?" Junior mumbled the words through the pieces of Wonder Bread
floating around in his mouth.
NARR: Trust him to get me in trouble.
MAMI: "Show me."
CARMELA: I opened my hand.
MAMI: "Where did you get all those pennies, Carmela?"
CARMELA: "I found them in the dirt."
NARR: She studied the coins for an endless minute.
MAMI: "Hmmm. They look pretty clean."
NARR: My mother’s instincts were strong and often infallible, but my father could divine your thoughts
before you even had them. Even Papa Dios wouldn't be able to save me if Papi found out about Señor
Cruz. I had to get away before Mami guessed.
CARMELA: "I have to use the toilet."
MAMI: Mami nodded her consent, but with a look in her eye.
NARR: She knew I was lying, but had decided to pretend she believed me.
CARMELA: Locking myself in the bathroom, I stared at the pennies; the shiny orange discs mocked me
with their cleanliness. I threw them in the toilet and flushed. Four sat in the bottom of the bowl. I didn't
want to flush too many times because Mami might become suspicious. I reached in the toilet and picked
them up with my nails, wrapped them in toilet paper and flushed again, praying it worked. It did. I
yanked off my blouse with one hand, turning on the sink's faucets with the other. I rubbed my chest with
Papi's bar of Lifebuoy soap, which we weren’t allowed to use but only it was strong enough to cleanse
me, rolling it over my skin from neck to waist. I pulled down a cloth diaper drying on the radiator
scrubbing my skin until I could see it tinged red through the froth. And then I splashed cold water on my
chest.
(Beat.) As a child, I devoured fairy tales from all over the world, gorging on stories about princesses or
penniless yet plucky scullery maids, fables from Russia and Poland and China and England. My favorites
are any and every fairy tale that has a girl kept prisoner by at least one evil parent. I slept with the
illustrated volume of The Brothers Grimm under my pillow until I graduated to Edgar Allan Poe when I
promised myself to never drink wine or at least not in underground vaults. Weekly, I made pilgrimages to
the Humboldt Park Public Library over on California and North Avenue. My mother came with me like
the dueñas I’ve read about in books about girls from Spain. The difference is that those girls are high
born and beautiful.
CARMELA: Now that I am a señorita I have to sneak in books from the school library and if I’m caught
reading one, I have to pretend that it’s assigned. Papi yells at me whenever he catches me reading. What,
are you blind? Didn’t you see the dirty dishes? Go help your mother. Make me and your mother some
coffee. Make sure Carlito is ready for bed.
(During this transition, we see SENOR CRUZ in the hallway. He points at CARMELA’s chest, saying,
“Do you remember?” CARMELA pushes past him, turning back to throw him a look. SENOR CRUZ is
looking at her ass/up her skirt, and says, “Si, si…”)
NARR: One afternoon when I get home from school,
MAMI: Mami is en la sala working the black Singer sewing machine. She looks up, brushing her fingers
through her hair
NARR: without disturbing a single strand glued together with hairspray.
MAMI: "¿Qué pasa?"
CARMELA: "Nada. (Beat.) Mami, there's something I want to ask you."
MAMI: "Hmmm?" Mami shoots me a glance; her finely plucked brows converge over her light eyes.
CARMELA (whispers excitedly to herself): I want to go out with a new guy in school, an import from
New York. I plan on asking him to the movies, but I must have permission to date.
NARR: It might be the ’70s and I might wish that Gloria Steinem was my mother, but to my actual
parents, “boyfriend” and “women’s liberation” were on the same list of dirty words, probably placed there
by some Communists.
CARMELA: "Remember when you said I could have a boyfriend when I was sixteen? Well, I'm sixteen
already, so is it okay?"
MAMI: Mami lifts her foot off the sewing machine pedal. She slides her chair so we are sitting knee to
knee.
NARR: For a minute, she stares at me with her hazel eyes brown-gold just like a lioness I saw on a school
field trip to Lincoln Park Zoo.
MAMI: She twists her body away from me. "Hector, Hector!"
CARMELA: Shit. I didn't know Papi was home. Why hadn't I looked for his car?
PAPI: Papi comes out of the bedroom wearing his home clothes, old work clothes: gray pants and
sleeveless white undershirt dotted with pin size holes from the flying sparks of a blow torch.
MAMI: "Your daughter wants to know if she can have a boyfriend."
NARR: My mother says this with the same horror with which another mother might say,
MAMI: “your daughter wants to know if she and fulano can have sex in our bed.”
PAPI: "¿Qué?"
NARR: His dark eyes are half closed like when he is studying a new English word.
CARMELA: I swallow hard.
NARR: I haven’t any choice but to answer.
CARMELA: "Mami said when I was sixteen I could have a boyfriend—"
NARR (she was expecting it): Whack. Flat palm to my right cheek knocking me off the chair.
PAPI: "That's the only boyfriend you'll get. Let me never hear that word in my house again," Papi says,
standing over me.
CARMELA: I am sprawled on the linoleum, the rug of Jesus is looking down on me, his eyes full of
sorrow.
PAPI: Papi nudges me with his slippered foot. "Go find something to do. Iron some clothes."
CARMELA (gets up, gets away): I don't look at my mother. I scramble to my feet.
NARR: My brothers and I learned early that if we were too slow, Papi would give us a little help to get us
going. (as CARMELA runs to the pantry:) The ironing board leans against a corner of the pantry. Its top
shelf is crammed with every bottle of medicine we have ever used. If there is a single pill or a drop left in
a bottle, it is there on the top shelf.
CARMELA: I choose a bottle; today, I’m not picky as to which. I pop open the lid and pick out a pill and
tuck under my tongue. (She presses her fingers to her eyes, squeezing back angry tears.)
NARR: I want to shout: I am a feminist! I have rights!
CARMELA: Instead, I set up the board, plug in the iron, and get the sack of clothes from the closet.
ALL: Part Two.
NARR: El Trabajo de las Mujeres - Women’s Work. (turns to scene, where CARMELA and MARGIE are
hanging out in MARGIE’s room.) Margie doesn't appreciate my comments about Señor Cruz.
CARMELA: "Your grandfather is a dirty old man," I say.
MARGIE: Margie comes over to where I lie on her bed. She kicks my foot, hard.
CARMELA: "Ow!" I roll out of her reach.
MARGIE: "Take it back," Margie says.
CARMELA: "Why should I? It's true."
MARGIE: "You think your family's so much better than mine."
CARMELA: "Huh?" What is the girl talking about? If anything, she's better off than me. I'm not the one
walking around with store bought clothes.
MARGIE: "Just because my mother signs her name with an X," Margie says.
CARMELA: "Margie, I never said anything about your mother."
NARR: Margie's hair flows around her shoulders, hides her face. She sits on a brown folding chair set in
front of the dressing table she'd picked up at the Salvation Army. I lust after Margie's dressing table and
all its wondrous contents: jars of Dippity-do and Noxzema face cream, a jumbo size can of hair spray, and
a clear plastic cup stuffed with black bobby pins like black cockroaches trying to escape. Margie's
collection of scarves spill out of an empty tin of Florecitas sugar cookies.
CARMELA: "What's bugging you? Is it your mother?" I ask.
MARGIE: "No," Margie says.
CARMELA: "One of your brothers?"
MARGIE: "No."
CARMELA: "Your father? Grandfather?"
MARGIE: Margie trails a long fingernail along the dressing table, digs the nail inside the scar of an old
cigarette burn. "Forget it. Let's talk about the party."
CARMELA: I’ve learned that sometimes it’s better to pretend that everything is beautiful. If she wants to
talk about her family's New Year's Eve party that's all right with me.
MARGIE: "Is your mother coming with you?" Margie looks up from her two-inch nails.
CARMELA: I hide my plain short ones in my palms. "Are you kidding? There'll be boys there."
MARGIE: "Can’t you even walk down a few steps by yourself? Shit, you’re sixteen."
CARMELA: "Sixteen." How can a single word give so much pleasure? It reverberates through my mouth
and glides down my throat down to the rest of my body tingling down to my toes. There will be boys;
boys who are almost men. There will be someone tall and handsome and strong, who will stand up to my
father and make him—wait a minute. I'm a woman. I don't need a man to stand up for me. Women can
do anything men can do. I read that in MS. magazine and if it says so in MS, it has to be true.
NARR: The clock on Margie's dressing table says ten to four.
CARMELA: "I've got to do Papi's bath." I jump off the bed.
NARR: Monday through Friday, it's my job to clean and fill the tub for Papi's bath. When he comes
home from work, he goes straight to the bathroom to wash off his factory job. If my brothers and I have
to use the toilet around four o'clock, we hold it. It doesn't matter that there is only one bathroom. If
you're on the toilet when Papi comes home, he’ll greet you with the belt.
CARMELA: "Margie." I point to my head.
MARGIE: "Don't worry, I'll come up later and do your hair."
CARMELA (gathering her stuff): I’d sneaked downstairs for a few minutes while my parents weren't
home. I’m not allowed to visit Margie even if she's my best friend and only lives a floor below.
NARR: Girls belong at home.
NARR: Later, Margie is in my room doing my hair.
CARLITO: My baby brother Carlito runs into the bedroom like always. He never walks when he can run,
no matter how often he has been told we live in a house not en el parque.
NARR: Papi has yanked his ear so many times for this that if you look at the back of Carlito's head, you
can tell one ear is slightly higher than the other.
CARMELA: "Carlito, don't run. You'll get asthma."
CARLITO: "Carmela, why you hafta do that to your hair?" Carlito's hazel eyes examine my head.
CARMELA: Half of my hair is pinned to my scalp. Little jabs of pain shoot through it each time I turn.
"So it'll be straight and beautiful like Margie's."
CARLITO: "It's already beautiful." Carlito fingers a curl.
CARMELA: I blow him a kiss.
NARR: My little brother is as sweet as Junior is sour.
CARLITO: "Margie, can I come to your party?" Carlito throws himself on his bed.
MARGIE: "Sure." Margie smiles. "It's a family party."
CARMELA: "But you have to be good, Carlito. No running in and out of the house, no playing marbles
in the cold stairway."
CARLITO: "Junior says we can watch you dance."
CARMELA: Great. I have visions of Carlito and Junior in a corner laughing at me. I narrow my eyelids
into slits for the 'don’t mess with me' stare.
NARR: Most likely, a poor imitation of my father’s.
CARLITO: Carlito gives me a big grin showing off his gums where his two front teeth are missing.
CARMELA: I'm not reassured.
MARGIE: Margie wipes her hands on a rag I hand her. "Me voy. Sleep on your back and don't move."
(She leaves.)
NARR: Her hair waves good bye behind her.
CARLITO: "You look dumb. Like you're from another planet,” Carlito says.
CARMELA: "Do I? Maybe I’m from outer space." I cut my eyes at him sideways. "I'm not really your
sister. I was sent down to earth from the planet Dipto to get a little kid like you." (CARMELA runs to
jump on CARLITO’s bed, starts to tickle him. CARLITO giggles hysterically.)
PAPI: "Don't make me go in there. What's wrong in a house when a man can't have peace and quiet?"
(CARMELA and CARLITO freeze.)
MAMI (from a different part of the stage): "Carmela. Tell Carlito to get ready for bed."
CARMELA: "Okay." I call back. Not too loud. Wouldn't want them to think I'm yelling.
NARR: Saturday after coffee and toast, I start the Saturday clean-up. I sweep while my brothers watch
Roadrunner. When I was little, I used to pray to God to make me a boy. There weren’t too many
advantages to being female as far as I could tell. Everyone was against women, even the Church. (She
looks to a new scene.)
CARMELA: "Father Jack, where do I sign up for altar girl?"
FATHER JACK: "What are you saying?"
NARR: I think he thought I was talking Spanish. Priests spoke directly to God. Surely, God knew, if
mothers and fathers didn't, that girls could do anything boys could do.
CARMELA (tries again): "I'm old enough to be an altar server. Where do I sign up?"
FATHER JACK: "You're a girl."
CARMELA: I nodded up at him.
NARR: I hadn’t been trying to keep it a secret.
FATHER JACK: "Girls can’t be altar servers. God didn't make girls for that."
CARMELA: "Father Jack, I'll do a good job. I'll even serve at the one o'clock," I say.
NARR: Junior and the other altar boys hated the one o'clock Spanish Mass packed with Puerto Ricans and
Mexicans and Cubans and South Americans – serving communion took twice as long.
FATHER JACK: "Being an altar server is a boy's job. Go home, play with your dolls. Help your mother
around the house like you're supposed to.”
NARR: I stumbled back as if Father Jack had shoved me away with his hands, from the magic of the red
altar partition where everything was supposed to be fair and beautiful.
MAMI: Mami came out to the vestibule.
CARMELA: I waited outside the church, hiding my face in my coat sleeve. I could hear Father Jack
talking, then both of them laughing.
NARR: I think that was when I knew that like my parents, the Church loved my brother more than it
loved me.
ALL: Chapter three.
NARR: Bailes and Old Salseros – Dances and Old Swingers. I'm sitting in a folding chair nodding to
whatever my friend Anita, one of Margie's hundred cousins, is telling me.
CARMELA: I can’t hear a word she’s saying because the music is so loud.
NARR: Papi stayed home tonight. He only socializes with relatives. I see a couple of men glance Mami's
way, but I know even without Papi next to her, not one of them will ask her to dance. Papi's reputation
protects her.
CARMELA: The guys my age are doing the 'hold the wall routine,’ not talking to each other, just looking
cool.
NARR: A few of Junior's friends are taking drags on a cigarette like it's reefer. Not Junior. He does his
smoking away from the house. He likes living.
CARMELA: I sneak a glance at Alex. He has the juiciest looking lips I've ever seen. They're bright red,
his full lower lip juts out a little. Like a Latin Elvis Presley, only younger and darker. I can tell he'll be a
good kisser. I catch Alex's gaze and then look away, then I look at him again. First, a girl must start out
slow.
ANITA: Anita shouts next to my ear. "Think Alex will ask you to dance?"
CARMELA: "I wish."
ANITA: Anita pulls me to my feet. "Let's go get a Coke," she says,
NARR: meaning let's go pass in front of the guys, stick out our chests, wiggle our butts a little.
CARMELA: For girls like Anita and me, that's all we got.
NARR: Latin girls from decent families don't 'date.' The Puerto Rican girls we know get one boyfriend
each who then becomes her husband.
ALL: One boyfriend then one husband then babies.
NARR: That's the way it is.
CARMELA: Who wants that? I run my hands over my waist and down my skirt taking an extra second to
smooth out the wrinkles on the back of my dress, translation: my butt.
ANITA: Anita is doing the same.
CARMELA: We got the guys' attention now. (They hook arms, walk past the boys.) We can feel their
gazes on our bodies, on our hips swishing side to side like we're dancing a slow merengue. (We see a slomo “swish, swish.”)
NARR: As little girls, we learned to do this from watching women at parties. We can feel their need to
touch us, to run their hands over our curves, to press into us and whisper things in our ears our fathers
would kill them for.
OLD MAN (to CARMELA): "¿Señorita, quieres bailar?" An old man about forty or fifty holds out his
hand.
MAMI: Every Puerto Rican mother tells her daughter that if she wants to dance then she must dance with
every guy who asks her. Men old enough to be her grandfather not excluded.
(Party/dance sequence. ANITA and CARMELA dance in circles and patterns with countless old guys,
shitfted briskly from one gross guy to another, each trying to get her name, to rub up against her, to place
his hand on her butt. Finally, ANITA and CARMELA escape/collapse into chairs. MARGIE approaches.)
MARGIE: "Scoot over, viejas."
ANITA: Anita and I push our chairs together.
CARMELA: I get stuck sitting on the crack while Margie and Anita perch on the ends.
MARGIE: "Nice hair." Margie tugs at a long strand.
CARMELA: "My hairdresser's a Santa, Santa Margarita."
ANITA: "Carmela, maybe Alex will ask you for the next song."
MARGIE: "Does Alex know you like him?" Margie rearranges my hair.
CARMELA: "Yeah, I went up and told him!" I cut my eyes at Margie.
MARGIE: "Give it a little time." She pats my hand
CARMELA: I find engaged girls very annoying. "I've been here three hours," I say. "I've danced with so
many viejitos who've stepped on me so many times I feel like a cockroach."
ANITA: Anita frowns.
NARR: Her penciled eyebrows don't move.
ANITA: "What can you do? You gotta wait for the guy to ask you."
CARMELA: Alex looks so fine in those brown pants and that striped shirt. My fingers would slide off
the shiny fabric. "Why can't I ask him to dance? Just because I'm a girl, I can't get up and ask him to
dance?"
ANITA: "Calm down, Carmela. You know you can't."
CARMELA: "Oh? And why not?"
MARGIE: "Because you just can't. He'll think you're easy.”
CARMELA: Mami's nightmare: that some guy will think he can get whatever he wants from me or
worse—that he will. I fantasize all the time about what Alex would want from me. "I should be able to
ask a boy to dance if I want to.”
NARR: I start seriously considering it.
ANITA: "Ohmygod, Carmela, don’t!” Anita says it like I’m taking my clothes off and dancing naked.
MARGIE: "She's been reading Ms. again. Carmela, look at me."
CARMELA: I look at her.
MARGIE: “Wake up. That stuff is for American girls, not us. And I’m tired of hearing about Ms,” Margie
says. “What’s Ms. ever done for me?”
CARMELA: That pisses me off so I start ranting. “Well, I’m pretty damn tired of real life. First, our
parents tell us what to do and then it’s our husbands. They tell us do this, do that, wear this, wear that.
Well, that's fine for you, Margie. You're the one who is getting married. Spend your life filling up Peter's
bathtub if you want to. I want more than that." (She shifts her focus.) I ignore the look on her face. I'll
apologize later. Right now, I have to act before I chicken out and Mami comes back from the bathroom.
ANITA: Anita tugs the hem of my skirt to pull me back.
CARMELA: I brush her off and I'm suddenly standing in front of Alex.
NARR: His friends drift away to give us a little privacy, but not too far so they can't hear.
CARMELA: "Hi, Alex."
ALEX: "Hi, Carmela."
CARMELA: He is a little shy and I like that. I don’t mind taking the lead. I'm going to do it for Puerto
Rican girls everywhere. (She takes a deep breath.) "Want to dance?"
ALEX: "Huh?" (His mouth drops open.)
CARMELA: "Dance? Do you want to dance with me?" I point to the couples dancing.
ALEX: He glances at his friends.
GUY 1: "Go for it, man."
GUY 2: "Baila con la chica."
GUY 1: "The chick wants to dance."
NARR: Alex follows me to the middle of the floor. If I'm going ask a guy to dance, it might as well be
for a bolero. How else will I get his arms around me? How else can I get away with his thighs brushing
against mine?
(They don’t speak. It’s awkward, but CARMELA shakes it off.)
CARMELA: Dancing with a boy I like is like drinking an ice cold bottle of Coca Cola in a sweltering
apartment with no air conditioning. Life is good.
(MAMI is suddenly right there beside her.)
MAMI: "Carmela, nos vamos," she says.
CARMELA: "Mami, this is Alex Quiñones. Alex, this is my mother."
MAMI (not like she means it): "Encantara"
ALEX (not like he means it either): "Mucho gusto.”
MAMI: “Carmela, we must go." (Mami nods to Alex, her arm encircling CARMELA’s waist)
CARMELA: "Can I say good-bye to Margie and Anita?"
MAMI: "I already sent Carlito upstairs.” (They push through couples, start to leave.)
NARR: I see Junior as we leave.
JUNIOR: He gives his head a half shake. A message to be careful.
(CARMELA squints at him, confused. New scene: bathroom.)
MAMI: Mami waves me inside the bathroom and yanks a string dangling from the light fixture.
CARMELA: I massage the marks her fingers made when she dragged me up the stairs.
MAMI: "You 're lucky your father wasn't with us because you'd get a lot more than that. (whispers,
harshly) I saw you with that boy."
CARMELA: "What’s the big deal? All we did was dance."
MAMI: She raises a finger to her lips.
CARMELA: This is one of those times to be quiet. I sit on the toilet seat.
MAMI: "I didn't raise you to go chasing after boys. I never thought my daughter would be that kind of
girl."
CARMELA: I stare at the tub's clawed feet.
(MAMI paces.)
MAMI: "I should tell your father."
CARMELA: "Mami, please, no."
MAMI: "Maybe you need a whipping."
CARMELA: "Mami, it was just a boy from my Spanish class. We were only dancing."
NARR: My mother nods, smoothing back the hair from my face with a gentle hand.
MAMI: “I remember what it is to be young, mi'ja. You think everything will be like a fairytale or a
dream. I’m sorry to tell you that the day comes when you have to wake up and realize that life is not so
nice as your dream. You are growing up and you will be much better off when you realize that men only
want one thing from women. What we have between our legs."
CARMELA: I close my eyes to Mami's touch. It is so rare that I want to savor it.
MAMI: "Men tell you anything, promise you anything, give you anything, to get it. And when they get it,
they want it more, then after a while they don't want it anymore. Unless they're married to you. And
even then—"
(CARMELA makes a face, horrified she’s going to get details of her parents’ sex life)
MAMI (pointing between CARMELA’s legs): "That's why you'd better make sure you have that marriage
certificate before you give esa cosa to some fulano you think you love. That thing is the present a young
woman gives to her husband on their wedding night. When you love a man you show him by doing what
he wants you to do. Your life will be much happier if you remember this: there's a role for the man and a
role for the woman. That's the way it's always been. That's God's way. In every family, there can only
be one person who rules and that is the man. In a few years, you’ll be a wife and you’ll see."
CARMELA: "I’m not getting married.”
MAMI: Mami bends down to offer me her cheek. “Don’t say such tonterias, of course you will. That’s
what God wants for you.”
NARR: I’m smart enough not to tell her that I don’t care what God wants.
MAMI (blessing CARMELA): "Que Dios te bendiga, te favoresca, y te haga una santita."
CARMELA: I do NOT want to be a saint.
(Scene: in CARMELA’s bedroom)
CARMELA: The music's beat pulsates through the floor, up the legs of the bed, crawls in bed with me. I
wonder if Alex is still down there. I glance over at Carlito sleeping with his back to me. I hold my breath
while I listen. His breathing is deep, but not labored, thank God. I think of Alex and the way his hands
had clasped my waist. I push up my nightgown underneath the blankets; I cup my breasts with my hands,
squishing their softness until the nipples pop out. I imagine Alex's hands caressing them, covering them
with his lips. I pull at the elastic of my panties reaching down to that secret place that Mami warned me
was a sin to touch except to wash and then it should be done quickly and with a washcloth. Thoughts of
Alex block out my mother’s words. I wonder about God’s sense of irony that something that feels so
good could send me to hell or at least to confession.