Necessary Theater by Jorge Huerta

Author:Jorge Huerta
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arte Público Press
Published: 1989-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

SCENE TWO

The front room. Morning. Church bells. A guitar plays “Siete Leguas.” A procession in black enters. CRUZ in mourning, MINGO holding her. Then LUPE and CHATO, carrying BELARMINO wrapped in a sarape.

LUPE: I’ll put Belarmino away, Mamá. (Goes into bedroom.)

CRUZ: (Sitting on the couch.) The señor knows what we shall do now, my sons.

MINGO: Pa was a good guy.

JOAQUIN: You liar!

MINGO: You insulting his memory already? (Pause.) I’ll let that one go this time.

LUPE: (Reentering.) He’s asleep.

CRUZ: He was tired, poor man.

MINGO: I don’ think we shoulda take him.

CRUZ: It was his padre, my son.

MINGO: He sang “La Cucaracha,” din’t he? Pa was my Pa too, Ma. I wanted him to have a good quiet funeral. What was the name of that other “bit” you did?

JOAQUIN: “Siete Leguas.”

MINGO: What?

JOAQUIN: Seven . . . leaguews. (He chokes up with grief.)

CHATO: That’s okay, ese, e’rybody like what you did.

LUPE: It was so sad to see them let mi ‘Apá down into his grave and all the time Belarmino singing “La Cucaracha.” E’rybody think you like it like that, Mamá.

CRUZ: We should have had a wake.

MINGO: You still on that, Ma? The funeral parlor did the job.

CRUZ: They din’ let me see him.

MINGO: There was nothing left to see. I mean, what you expect them to do? That train hit him. I’m not even sure it was him when I identified him. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he went back to Mexico like he always wanted? That’s possible.

JOAQUIN: Why don’t you shut up!

CRUZ: We should have had a wake! (She breaks down crying.)

LUPE: Chato, help me. (LUPE and CHATO take CRUZ upstairs, crying.)

MINGO: Everything’s gonna be okay, Ma. You’ll see. I ordered him a stone with his name in Spanish, and a saying: “Here lies our Dad, By Angels Guarded . . . ” (CRUZ has gone upstairs.)

JOAQUIN: Tried to feel sad but only farted. (Laughs until he cries.)

MINGO: (Going over to him, whispering.) What the hecks the matter with you, Tomahawk? Pa’s dead. Don’t you appreciate that? (Pause.) Heh, are you crying?

JOAQUIN: Lemme alone, ese.

MINGO: Listen, Joaquín, things ain’t been the best between us, but maybe we ought to sit down and talk, huh? Man to man? I’m your legal guardian now.

JOAQUIN: What you mean?

MINGO: I’m responsible for you. For the whole family. I wanna help you, Tomahawk.

JOAQUIN: Help me what?

MINGO: Help you. You wanna join the Marines? I’ll sign for you. Sure, the service’ll make a man outta you. Look what it did for me. How about it?

JOAQUIN: Nel, I awready tried. They don’ like my record.

MINGO: That bad, huh? Well, how about night school? (JOAQUIN makes a face.) Okay then, come and work with me.

JOAQUIN: I awready worked with you.

MINGO: You still think I cheated your friends?

JOAQUIN: I know it!

MINGO: Boy, that’s rich. You know what’s wrong with you? You can’t imagine anybody making an honest buck. This is a free country, man. There’s no law against making money.

JOAQUIN: How about being a Chicano?

MINGO: Is that what’s eating you?

JOAQUIN: How

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