A tiny, one-room apartment in an old tenement building in the South Bronx. José—tall, sturdy, fiery, socially active, 16 years old. His mother Elena— short, slim, 33, her former beauty and vivacity fading. Elena is in the kitchen, not separated from the living room. Sheets divide the other side of the apartment into sleeping areas. José has been working up his nerve to talk to her.

José:     (calls) “Mami. I need to talk to you.”
Elena:    (offstage) “I'll be through in uno momento.”

(José paces up and down, rehearsing what he's going to say. Enter Elena)

Elena:    “Que pasa, querido?”
José:     “Speak English, Mami.”
Elena:    “Don't say that. I hear it all day at the laundry from Mr. Riley. I speak good English. Some words just come out in Spanish.”
José:     “You're still young and smart. If you speak better you can get a better job.”
Elena:    “So now you're my guidance counsellor?”
José:     “I just want things to be easier for you.”
Elena:    “All right. I'll try when I'm not so tired. Now what's so important you have to talk to me about? Are you in trouble at school?”
José:     “No, Mami. It's not school… I'm going to join the Occupy Wall Street movement.”
Elena:    “Those locos protesting in the streets?”
José:     “They're not locos, Mami. They're good people who want to change the way Wall Street manipulators get rich at the expense of the people.”
Elena:    “Que es manipulator?”
José:     “In English, Mami. It means to use the system to benefit yourself.”
Elena:    “Isn't that what Los Estados Unidos is for?”
José:     “When it's a fair chance for everyone. When it just helps a few—that's wrong.”
Elena:    “And you're going to change that by yelling and screaming in the street like locos?”
José:     “They're not loco. They're trying to correct injustice.”
Elena:    “They make too much noise and La Policia come and shoot them like they shoot black people. I don't want that to happen to you. You're all I have.”
José:     “That's not going to happen, Mami. It's a peaceful protest.”
Elena:    “Sí. Until the locos start throwing things, then La Policia bust heads.”
José:     “After what happened to us, you should go there with me.”
Elena:    “You think that will make the old, greedy landlord let us back in with fair rent? No. He only wants more money. He doesn't care that Papi died and I needed time to get a job. No. He raised the rent to get us out. I asked officials I voted for to help us, but they couldn't do anything. I asked Legal Aid. They said the landlord can charge what he wants. So we are here… until you go to college on scholarship… whatever pays your way…”
José:     “What about you? What kind of life will you have? Any better than what you have now?”
Elena:    “I do for my son now… when you are safe in college I will see what I do.”
José:     “That's wrong. You're a good person. You're entitled to a better life.”
Elena:    “You think I get it when they kill you?”
José:     “They're not going to kill me, Mami. I'm going to do my part to try to change the system that hurts poor people and helps the rich.”
Elena:    “If I let you go, will you come home for dinner every night?”
José:     “No, Mami. We occupy Wall Street. We live there until they agree to change things.”
Elena:    “We'll talk about it another time.”
José:     “No, Mami. I'm going tomorrow.”
Elena:    “What about school?”
José:     “They're letting me go as a special social sciences project.”
Elena:    “They are loco too. Now school sends you to get hurt.”
José:     “Don't worry. I'll be careful.”
Elena:    “That's what your Papi said, then he went on strike with his union and they killed him.”
José:     “This is different.”
Elena:    “That's what he said.”
José:     “You'll see. I'll be alright.”

Elena:    “You promise me you won't get hurt and come home soon.”
José:     “I promise, Mami.”
Elena:    “I love you, José.”
José:     “I love you, Mami.”
  

— End —