Requiem for a Dream (15 page)

She made a second pot of coffee. She never had more
than one cup of coffee in the morning and the rest of the time she
drank tea. But this morning she drank an entire pot, six cups, and
now she was making another pot and not thinking about it, aware only
of how she felt . . . good, exhilarated, expansive. And then she
became aware that it was lunch time and she wasnt even hungry. Not a
tiny bit. She drank more coffee. Lunch time already and I dont want
anything, she stuck her tongue out at the refrigerator, not even a
herring tidbit in sour cream, thank you. Such magic. No little tickle
thinking of a nosh. A hot fudge sundae I dont want. A pastrami on rye
with mustard and potato salad I dont want. Nothing I want. Since
breakfast I've had one pill and a cup of coffee and—she looked at
the pot and her cup and realized that she had had more than one cup,
that she had made a second pot and that was almost empty . . . Eh,
she shrugged, big deal. A pill and a pot of coffee and Im being
already zophtic so whos complaining? She finished her coffee and
refilled the cup, Im looking at you, and she winked at the
refrigerator, and now its time for lunch, and she picked up the red
pill and daintily dropped it on her tongue and washed it down with
coffee and wiggled and shimmied in her chair for a moment thinking
about this incredible miracle that had taken place in her life. If
only she knew about this before.
 
 

She was feeling so young, so full of energy like she
is climbing mountains. She thought maybe she would wash the floors
and the walls, at least the kitchen walls, this afternoon, but
decided to postpone that and go sit with the ladies and get some sun
and tell them how she felt. She couldnt wait to tell them that she
found the fountain of youth and Im telling you, its not at the
Fountainblew. She took her chair outside and joined the ladies,
putting her chair in the place of honor that was always kept in
reserve for her. There was at least a dozen ladies waiting and when
she came out they right away started the same old thing about the
show and where and when and she just smiled and waved her hands in
her best regal fashion and looked up and down the street for the
mailman and bounded with unbridled energy and flitted about and
around the ladies, sitting for a moment then getting up and walking
around again, and when the lady who had given her the name of the
doctor joined them she hugged her and kissed her and told her forever
shes loving her, that what is happening is the most wonderful thing
in the world and she cant believe it but shes not even thinking about
food, that even if a big bowl of chicken noodle soup was put in front
of her she wouldnt eat it, not even if it was smothered in borscht,
and how good she feels since shes not making herself so tired with
all that food and now shes feeling free like a bird and wants to just
fly and flutter her wings and sing songs "O by Mier Bist du
Schon" and it doesnt even cost, hes making it on the Medicare,
and maybe I'll go dancing and she tried to sit and get some sun but
she kept bouncing up as if some unseen force continually propelled
her off her seat and sent her bunny-hopping amongst the ladies and
looking up and down the street for the mailman who soon will have
something for her from the McDick Corp. telling her what show she is
on and how much longer before getting into the red dress and the
ladies shook their heads and nodded and told her to sit, sit already
and relax, get some sun, feeling good is alright but dont let it wear
you out, and they laughed and kidded and Sara sat and walked and
hugged and kissed and looked up and down the street until the mailman
came and as she started walking toward him, her retinue behind her,
he shook his head, Aint nothin today, and went into the building with
a few pieces of mail but Sara didnt despair, she just kept telling
them how good she felt and how soon she would look like Little Red
Riding Hood.

Sara was the last to leave the street. She didnt have
to prepare dinner so there was no rush. The first thing she did was
to turn on the television, then make another pot of coffee and thumb
her nose at the refrigerator who still sulked in silence as he
smelled the scent of defeat. Sara busied herself in the kitchen
rubbing, wiping, swiping, continually looking at the clock to see if
it was dinner time. Eventually the hands of the clock formed a
straight line and Sara excitedly sat down at the table with her
orange pill. She dropped it in her mouth, drank some coffee, and then
went back to sweeping and cleaning and scrubbing while humming,
talking to herself, the television, and pointedly ignoring the
refrigerator. From time to time she reminded herself about the water
and she drank a glass thinking thin and zophtic. Eventually her
energy started to wane and she became aware of the fact that she was
clenching her teeth and grinding, but that was easy enough to ignore
as she settled in her viewing chair, or at least tried to. She
continually fidgeted and squirmed and got up for this or that, or
another cup of coffee or glass of water, feeling a hint of squirming
under her skin and a slight and vague feeling of apprehension in her
stomach, but not quite strong enough to be really disturbing. She was
only aware that she didnt feel quite as good as she had in the
afternoon, but she still felt better, more alive, than she had in
many years. Whatever might be off a little was worth it.

A small price to pay. She kept thinking of the green
pill and though the program she was watching was only half over she
got up out of her chair and took her green pill and went back to her
viewing chair. She drank a few more glasses of water and decided that
tomorrow she would drink less coffee. Its no good that coffee. Tea is
better. If something is wrong its probably the coffee. She drank some
more water visualizing it dissolve the fat in her body and washing it
out and away . . . away . . . far, far away. . . . Tyrone had copped
two more pieces and by night he and Harry were ready to do some heavy
business. They continued to cool it with the stuff, just taking a
small taste, just enough to keep them cool out there on the streets,
but not enough to dull their senses. They had to hang cool, but
tough. Phone calls had been coming in during the day and they were
ready to off at least half their stuff before they had even cut it.
After making several drops Harry called Marion to find out who else
had called and what was happening. It became such a hassle that
Marion suggested they just keep the stuff there until they got a
phone in Tyrones pad. All this running around and taking messages is
absurd. And it seems like youre taking unnecessary risks, Harry, the
way you are operating now. Harry quickly agreed with her suggestion
and they operated out of her apartment until the phone was installed
in Tyrones pad a few days later. Now everything went easier and
smoother. They were still very careful with how much they used
themselves and the stuff they were copping was still so good they
could cut it four times and still off a good bag. Cats were waiting
for their shit. They started cutting it five times and made even that
much more money. The bucks were piling up by the thousands and they
got a safety deposit box, under assumed names, and stashed the money
there.

They were making over a thousand dollars a day and
decided it was time to lighten up a bit and get themselves some
decent clothes to wear when they went out. But it seemed like they
never had time to go out so they started fronting a couple of guys
like Gogit with some stuff to off through a night and getting the
bread the next day and splitting it down the middle with the guys.
All of a sudden, or so it seemed, the world had turned around and
they were coming up roses. Now, instead of the bottle being half
empty it was suddenly half full, and getting closer and closer to the
top.

One night Harry and Marion were sitting on the couch
listening to music, after having gotten off, going over their plans
for the coffee house as usual, when Harry leaned back, with a pensive
expression on his face, then nodded his head as he reached a
decision, Yeah, thats what I'll do. Marion smiled, Do for what? Or
should I say whom? The old lady. Ive been thinking of getting
something for her, you know, some kind of present, but I didnt know
what to get, you know it aint easy to think of something for someone
like that. Like what could she use or want? Every woman loves
perfume. You can get her something exquisite with a crystal bottle.
Naw, that wouldnt make it for her. You know my old lady. Yes, I guess
youre right. But I hope you take the hint, and she chuckled. Later
for you, and he kissed her on the cheek and brusquely rubbed the back
of her neck. I finally figured the perfect thing. Its right there in
front of my nose and I miss it the whole time. I finally asked
myself, whats her fix? and I told myself, television, right? If ever
theres a TV junkie its the old lady. And I figure maybe I owe her a
new new one anyway with all the wear and tear her set got from being
schlepped back and forth to old Abes. Dont use that word. What?
schlep? Yes. It reminds me of my father and his garment center
vocabulary. Harry shrugged and laughed, You sure do have a thing with
him, eh? Marion shrugged it off, I can ignore it. But whats this
about a television? Im going to get the old lady a new set. I figure
I can go for a grand if I have to, and get her a set that will knock
her out. I mean that will really spin her head. She'll plotz already!
O Harry! Marion pouted and Harry chuckled and put his arms around
her, I'm sorry, but sometimes I just cant resist, you get so bugged
so easy. Anyway, tomorrow Im going to get her a big, fat super color
TV that will make her forget all about the times I borrowed her set.
Marion tilted her head to one side and looked at Harry for a moment,
then smiled gently, You really love her, dont you? Harry shrugged, I
guess so. I mean, I dont know exactly. One time I feel one way and
the other time I feel something else. Most of the time I just want
her to be happy. You know what I mean? Marion nodded her head, a
longing expression on her face. Id just like to see her happy and
making it ... but sometimes I just cant seem to stop myself and I
want to attack her like ... ah I dont know. Its not that I want to
attack her so much, its just that I see her sitting there in that
same old apartment that shes been in forever, wearing the same old
house dress, you know even if it isnt the same it is, and I dont know
what to do. When Im away from her its fine, like I love her and have
nice thoughts about her, when I think about her. But when Im there,
in that apartment with her, something happens and I get so goddamn
irritated that I end up yelling at her. O, its probably simple. You
love her and have a dependency and you dont know how to obtain your
independence in a healthy manner by simply outgrowing the nest, so to
speak, so you lash out and reject her before she can reject you. Its
a classic case, really. Could be. Me, I dont care about all that. I
just know that shes always lecturing me about being careful, youre a
good boy, take care, dont get hurt . . . you know? like she wont let
me breathe. Marion was nodding. Harry shrugged, Ah, I dont know. Its
not important. Now that Im set I can take care of her and visit her
once in a while an maybe now she'll get off my back when she sees how
good Im doing. Hey, maybe sometime we can take her out to dinner or
something. A show, who knows what. What do you think? I'd love to
Harry. Ive always loved your mother. Shes always so charming and
quaint, and . . . and real. So unaffected. She lives in the Bronx and
loves the Bronx and lives her life in the open. Not like some who
look down their noses at people unless they live in New Rochelle or
the Connecticut suburbs or Westchester and think theyre something
theyre not while they still sound like theyre clearing their throat
when they talk and slop cream cheese and bagels in their mouths in
the morning and every Sunday night they go out to eat chinks. Theyre
so disgusting. There is nothing worse than a cultural barbarian with
pretensions. Hey, youre really cooking, and he chuckled. O, well, it
really irritates me. Shakespeare said, This above all, unto thine own
self be true. Polonius may have been a fool but there is a great deal
of wisdom in that line. I think thats one of the problems with the
world today, nobody knows who they are. Everyone is running around
looking for an identity, or trying to borrow one, only they dont know
it. They actually think they know who they are and what are they?
Theyre just a bunch of chleppers—Harry chuckled at the way she spit
the word out and the intensity with which she spoke—who have no
idea what a search for personal truth and identity really is, which
would be alright if they didnt get in your way, but they insist that
they know everything and that if you dont live their way then youre
not living properly and they want to take your space away . . . they
actually want to somehow get into your space and live in it and
change it or destroy it—Harry started to blink and stare as the
anger mounted and flared out— they just cant believe that you know
what you are doing and that you have your own identity and space and
that you are happy and content with it. You see, thats the problem
right there. If they could see that then they wouldnt have to feel
threatened and feel that they have to destroy you before you destroy
them.They just cant get it through their philistine heads that you
are happy where you are and dont want to have anything to do with
them. My space is mine and thats enough for me. Harry looked at her
for a moment. I'll tell you something baby, Im glad thats the way it
is. I sure as hell wouldnt want to have to share your space. It might
catch fire. All I did was say schlep and look what happened. Imagine
what would happen if I said yenta, and Harry laughed and hugged
Marion and she suddenly relaxed, allowing the dope, and Harrys
attitude, and her own weariness to smooth the wrinkles from her brow
and she started laughing too. You know something baby, its like
Confucius said to Lei Kowan before the famous battle of Wang Ton:
Letim eat cake, and they both started laughing again, O Harry, thats
dreadful, and Marion got up and put the kindertotenlieder on again
and then went back to the couch and cuddled into Harry as they
relaxed and listened to the music, and discussed the plans for the
coffee house, as the dope continued to flow through their blood
whispering dreams to every living cell in their bodies.