Mother & Son
mom – some grey hair – disheveled.
son – looks to be 14 – thin build – also disheveled.
kitchen – old table – cheap. room – well lit
Mom is at this table – a glass of water – fiddles with it. A blank look on her face
Her son walks in – t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
The son pulls out a chair and sits – looking at his mom at the table – at his hands, and back at his mom.
Mom continues to fiddle with her glass – looking at it.
Mom stops looking at the glass and looks over to her son.
son: Kind of hungry, you know.
Mom looks down again to her glass, but doesn’t fiddle with it.
son: I’m kind of hungry.”
mom: I know. I heard you. Do something about it.
son: Do something.
son: like what?
mom: Get a job.
son: Mom – I’m 14. No one will hire me? And besides we live so far out there aren’t any jobs out here.
mom: Well then, I guess there’s nothing you can do.
mom: Look, son, I don’t know what you’re going to do – seriously.
son: Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot.
He gets up abruptly. Looks at his mother still sitting – looking at her glass. She doesn’t look up. He starts to say something, but doesn’t and turns and leaves the kitchen. His mom continues to stare at her glass.
LIGHT SLOWLY FADES
LIGHT COMES BACK – not well lit
He sits on a bed. a lamp on a orange crate – standing in for an end table. Other than this we see nothing. He sits on this bed looking down.
boy: This is so fucked. This can’t just keep happening. I mean if I went to school I’d at least get fed – shit – one lousy fucking meal a day. and she just sits … and sits – all goddamn day … or so it seems. I don’t know what to do. I wish we never came here.
He gets up – paces
Back in the kitchen/ Mom is washing her glass. He walks in – looking over her shoulder she sees him.
son: Why did we move here?
Mom doesn’t answer. She fills the glass with water.
son: Come on – tell me.
mom: Tell you what.
son: Why’d we move here. I’m not even going to school. I have no friends … and I’m hungry. You have to do something about this.
mom: What in the hell do you want me to do?
son: Be a parent. Take care of me.
Mom sits again at the table. Her son pulls out a chair and also sits at the table. Neither of them look at each other.
son: Goddamn it! Fucking do something!
mom: Do you have to swear?
son: Fucking right I do.
Mom gets up, pushes her chair in, turns and before she leaves she turns to her son.
mom: Don’t swear in this house.
son: Fuck you!
He gets up the chair falls back to the floor. Face red with anger.
son: Goddamn you!
mom: I told you not to swear. You can leave anytime you want. This is what we have. So GO if you don’t like it here.
The son drops his head.
Mom looks at her son:
son: Why does it have to be like this?
mom: Because that’s how it is.
son: You go around in circles. What’s wrong with you? You haven’t always been like this. Remember when we lived in L.A.? I went to school—had friends—always had food, clothes. We live out here – so far from school that I can’t go. So far from anything. I hate it here. How can you let us live like this? You’re my mother!
mom: And you’re my son. You want to eat?
She gets up and goes to the cabinet, opens the cabinet door. She rummages around and brings out the last can of chili.
She tosses the can to her boy who deflects it and it crashes to the floor.
son: Wow, chili.
mom: It’s food – eat it if you’re hungry.
mom” I told you …
Her son interrupts her.
He storms out of the kitchen. His mom leans over and picks up the can. She twirls it in her hands – then puts it back in the cabinet. After a moment she gets the can, opens it, and pours it into a small pot. She then looks around and finds an almost empty loaf of bread. She pours the chili into two bowls – looks for butter – there is none. Getting two spoons she puts this on the table with the two slices of bread.
mom: Son. Food’s ready.
There is no answer. She sits down to her bowl of chili and slice of bread. She stirs the chili – not eating – then she gets up and gets the two bowls, bread, and leaves to go to her son.
mom: Here you are.
She hands him his bowl. He takes it.
mom: Do you remember what it was like living with your father?
son: I went to school. I had friends. There was always food to eat. Yes, I remember.
mom: Then you remember how he beat on me – that when I went to the ER how I told lies to protect him. Well, not really to protect him, but I was trying to keep you and me safe – I was scared to death of him. I lived in terror for years. I’m so sorry.
son: Yes, mom, I do remember.
mom: That’s why we’re here. Eat up.
He eats the chili with the piece of bread.
mom: I love you, son – with all my heart.
son: I know.
Mom finishes her chili and bread then waits until her son is finished.
mom: Here, let me take that.
He hands the bowl to his mom.
She leaves. He is still on his bed when she returns.
mom: Pack up. Let’s go.
mom: Yes, son. It’s time to leave here. Time for you to go back to school and for us to have a life. OK?
son: You sure?
mom: I’m sure.