Requiem for a Dream (10 page)

Sara checked the mailbox after a hearty lunch in
which she had some extra lettuce. Well, actually you couldn't call it
cheating because it was only half a cup of lettuce... . Well, it
really depends on how you measure: loose or tight. If youre just
putting a little lettuce in the measuring cup theres already more air
than lettuce. All Sara did was push out the air between the pieces of
lettuce . . . very hard, and got almost a half a head in half a cup.
So whats the big deal? Youre not needing a toothpick no matter how
much lettuce you eat. She drank two glasses of water, rapidly, then
tried to convince herself that she was filled, but who you kidding?
Nobody believes a story like that. Im not full, Im starving. She
rechecked the book again and it assured her that after the first day
or two (two! you got to be kidding!!!) you will be feeding off your
own fat and wont be hungry. Im waiting. The book also suggested that
she visualize herself at her perfect weight and concentrate on that
to avoid thinking of any hunger she may have (may have? Whos kidding
who?!) and she did and again she saw herself in her gorgeous red
dress and red hair with golden shoes looking so zophtic as she walked
across the television screen, but even at a perfect weight and
looking so ipsy pipsy nifty she was still hungry. Im not hungry
because Im thin and beautiful? I dont eat just because Im so
gorgeous? She looked at the book, Eh, you should plotz already? She
didnt bother with her coffee but went out to the mailbox. Still no
mail yet. She went back to the apartment and stood in the middle of
the kitchen staring at the refrigerator and could feel herself
leaning forward slowly, but continuously, and she became fascinated
and hypnotized by the action and wondered how far forward she could
lean before she fell flat on her face and she leaned further and
further until she suddenly put her arms out and stopped herself from
falling by pushing on the refrigerator. This I dont need. She turned
her back on the refrigerator and walked sideways past it into the
bathroom. She fluffed her hair and looked at it carefuly. Still not
the red she wanted, but red it is. Sort of carrot, but a red.
Definitely its part of the family. Tomorrow she'll get another
treatment and maybe then its perfect, but for now its alright. Maybe
she'll go out and get a little sun while she waits for the mailman.
Theyll all want to see how gorgeous her new hair is. She stopped in
the doorway to the kitchen and turned her back and tossed her head at
the refrigerator, So whats the big deal, and picked up her folding
chair and went ipsy pipsy out to the street, checking the mailbox
first. She joined the others sitting alongside the building, getting
the sun. A few had reflectors that they held under their chins as
they stared up at the sun. Sara could feel how her hair glimmered in
the sun and shook her head a little as she waited for the first
comment. Ada told us. Its gorgeous. Thank you. We're making it a
little darker tomorrow. To match the red dress. So why darker? Now
its looking like Lucille Ball. But Im not. But soon . . . Im on a
diet. One of the ladies lowered her reflector for a moment, Cottage
cheese and lettuce, then raised the reflector again. The women
continued to keep their eyes closed and their faces stretched toward
the sun as they talked. What diet you on? Eggs and grapefruit. Oi
vay. I was on once. Lots of luck dolly. Its not so bad. How long you
been on already? All day. All day? Its one oclock. All days forever?
So? All day is still all day. Im thinking thin. My Rosie lost fifty
pounds like that almost. Like that? Like what? Like that, that. Poof.
You put her in a sweat box? A doctor. He gave her pills. It makes you
not want to eat. So whats so good about that? Who wants not to want
to eat? You mean Im sitting here not thinking about chopped liver and
pastrami on rye? With a slice of onion and mustard. Herring. Herring?
Yeah, herring. In sour cream. With matzoh. A nosh. When the sun goes
behind that building Im having a nosh, she squinted at the sun, maybe
another twenty minutes. You shouldnt talk like that already when
someones on a diet. Eh, big deal. I'll sneak an extra piece of
lettuce. Im thinking thin. The women continued to sit on the chairs,
pushed up against the building wall, faces thrust at the sun, and
talking until the mailman came. Sara picked up her chair and followed
him into the building. Ada and the other ladies followed. Goldfarb.
Goldfarb. I know you have a big important mail for Goldfarb. Well, ah
dont know. Aint much of anythin here but a couple a things, and he
continued to put mail in the boxes, aint much aroun here cept on the
beginnin a the onth wit them social security checks. But Im expecting
something— Here somethin for Goldfarb, Sara Goldfarb, and he handed
Sara a thick envelope. So lets see. Open it, open it. Sara carefully
opened the envelope, not wanting to injure anything on the inside,
and took out a form letter and a two part questionnaire with a return
envelope clipped to them. So whats the show? The mailman closed the
boxes then worked his way around the knot of women around Sara, So
long, have a nice day now, you hear? and whistled his way out of the
building. The women nodded and automatically said a goodbye or two,
then leaned, intently, toward Sara. It doesnt say what show. What?
How can you know if theyre not telling you? They decide after you
send them this form. So why a big mystery already? Ada took the
letter from Sara, and Sara pointed to the paragraph, See? Ada nodded
her tead as she read, ". . . as the promotional agency for
several of the shows on television utilizing contestants, as well as
proposed shows, we want to take this opportunity ..." A lot of
words to say nothing. Its like the soap opera, tune in tomorrow for
the next chapter. They chuckled and went back to the chairs to get
the last bit of sun before it went behind the building. Sara shrugged
and went back to her apartment to puzzle over the questionnaire. She
flipped on the television md sat in her viewing seat and read the
questionnaire several times before going into the kitchen. She turned
her back on the refrigerator and made a glass of tea, then sat down
at the kitchen table to complete the form. Actually, Sara had not
filled in too many forms in her life, but whenever she was faced with
the ordeal they always seemed impossible at first. This one was the
same. She just sat, with her back to the refrigerator, and sipped her
tea for a moment knowing that soon it would start to make sense. She
looked at the form out of the corner of her eye then slowly slid it
across the table until it was right in front of her so it was almost
touching her nose. So, big deal. A piece of papers going to bug me?
Ask me? Go ahead Mr. Smartypants, ask me a question? Uh. You call
that a question? That kind I take six at once. She started to fill in
the form, carefully printing each letter. Her name. Address.
Telephone number. Social security number. Huh, like a breeze, and she
glided from one question to the next, then stopped abruptly. So now
youre getting personal? Does Macys tell Gimbels? She squinted at the
form out of the corner of her eye and sipped her tea. Okay, you want
to know so I'll tell you, and she quickly put down a few numbers
after: Date of Birth. The next question was: Age. So now they want me
to count for them. An Einstein Im not, but I can figure that. She
looked at the next question and smiled then chuckled and shrugged
before answering it. Marital Status: wanting, needing. Maybe theyre
sending me Robert Redford ... or maybe even Mickey Rooney. Sex: So
why not? She giggled and continued talking to the form, putting in
the answers carefully and clearly. When she finished, she reread it
several times making certain that every answer was exactly right and
that nothing had been overlooked. She couldnt be sloppy or lazy with
something as important as this. How many dreams could come true
through this form? Where can it lead? Every day on the television she
saw things suddenly work out for people. People get married. Sons
come home. Everybody is happy. She sat with her eyes closed for a
moment then ever so gently folded the form, in its original creases,
and put it in the self-addressed envelope, sealed it pressing hard
for many long seconds on the flap, then putting it on the chair and
sitting on it for extra insurance. If that doesnt seal it then it
doesnt have to be sealed. She tossed her head and shoulders at the
refrigerator, Who needs you? and left to mail the form. A few of the
ladies were sitting in the shade. Sara waved the envelope, Its ready
to go on its way. They walked with her to the mailbox on the corner.
I wonder when youll hear? Maybe theyll send you for a week to
Grossingers, thats where they send all the stars. Im eating eggs and
grapefruit at Grossingers? The ladies smiled and chuckled as they
walked down the street. Their own friend, Sara Goldfarb, for twenty
years, for some more, their friend and she was going to be on the
television. Theres sorrow and pain in everyones life, but every now
and then theres a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your
heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed. That ray of
light was shining already on their friend Sara Goldfarb and they were
partaking of the light too and sharing her hope and dream. Sara
pulled down the panel on the mailbox and kissed the envelope before
dropping it in. She closed it then opened it again to make sure it
had dropped down into the box, and entrusted her dream to the United
States Postal Service.

The nine to fivers, the brown baggers, the strap
hangers, the working stiffs, the squares were at home, or on their
way, by the time Harry and Marion slipped into a new day. Whenever
their eyes opened, even partially, the shadows seemed to attack them
and force them shut so they rolled over as best they could on the
narrow couch, groaning unconsciously, and tried to go back to sleep,
but though their eyes were heavy and their bodies sluggish,
additional sleep was impossible so they hung between wakefulness and
blackness until the blackness became too uncomfortable and they
forced their stiff bodies up and sat on the side of the couch for a
moment orienting themselves. Harry massaged the back of his neck,
Wow, I feel like I've been playing football for krists sake. He
pulled at his shirt, I'm soakin wet. Take it off and put it on the
back of the chair. It will dry out pretty fast. I'll make some
coffee. Harry watched Marion walk across the room, her ass grinding
gently from side to side. He put his shirt on the back of the chair,
stared out the window for a moment, holding the shade just a few
inches from the window, staring at the action on the street so
blankly that everything seemed to split up into many images and
eventually he had to blink everything back into perspective. He
rubbed his head and stretched his eyes open wider for a second. He
gradually became aware of the noises coming from the kitchen then
released the shade and joined Marion as she put two cups of coffee on
the table. Good timing. Yeah. They sat and started sipping the hot
coffee as they smoked. Jesus, I dont even remember falling asleep, do
you? Marion smiled, I only remember you rubbing the back of my neck
and whispering to me. Harry chuckled, The way my hand feels I must
have been rubbing it all night. Marion looked and sounded almost shy,
It was nice. I love it. Last night was the best night I have ever had
in my life. You putting me on? She smiled softly, sweetly, and shook
her head, No. After sleeping with you with our clothes on how can I
put you on? Harry chuckled and shrugged, Yeah. That is a little
weird, isn't it? But it was kindda groovy. Marion nodded, I think its
beautiful. Harry yawned again and shook his head, Man, I cant seem to
get it going this morning, or today or tonight or whatever it is.
Here, Marion passed him a spansule, take this and youll be awake soon
enough. Huh, whats this, putting it in his mouth and swallowing it,
then chasing itwith coffee. A dexie spansule. You can take another
one before you go to work. Work? Oh yeah, we're supposed to make it
down to that newspaper gig tonight, eh? Jesus. Dont worry, by the
time you finish the next cup of coffee youll have a different
attitude toward it. Especially when you remember why youre working.
Harry scratched his head, Yeah, I guess so. But right now it all
seems impossible. Then dont think about it. She refilled their cups,
When we finish this we'll take a shower. That always works. Yeah. She
smiled, Like walking in the rain.

Harry was not only wide awake by the time Tyrone
called, he was chomping at the bit and had been talking for a couple
of hours without stop, taking the edge off the dexies with a couple
of pokes off a joint once in a while. He was more actively a part of
the music, his body moving energetically, his fingers quietly
snapping, his head seeming to be in the midst of the chords as they
were absorbed by him. When he stopped talking long enough to take' a
drink of coffee, a drag on his cigarette, a poke, or just to breathe,
his jaws kept moving as he ground his teeth. Jesus, I could listen to
that all night. That son of a bitch has an incredible sound, really
something else . . . yeah, baby, blow . . . Harry closed his eyes for
a moment, nodding in time to the music, his head tilted toward the
radio, You hear that? eh? You dig the way he comes down and flattens
it? You dig those changes? Man! thats too much . . . yeah, go get it
baby, hahaha, blow your ass off, jesus hes great. The way he just
sort of glides into the up tempo really knocks me out, you dig? Like
no sudden change with a funky ass drum roll and snare shots but just
a nice easy glide into the up tempo and before you know it hes got
you finger poppin. Hes outta sight man, just really outta sight. . .
. The piece ended and Harry snapped his attention back to Marion
after finishing his coffee. Marion refilled his cup. You know, after
we cop the piece and have the bread we should go downtown and fall by
one of the joints and dig some music. I'd love to. Theres a lot of
things we're going to do when we make that bread. We're going to move
on out. We're going to get it all together and turn things upside
down. We'll have that coffee shop going in no time and then we'll go
to Europe and you can show me all those paintings youre always
talking about. We can even get you a studio and you can go back to
painting and sculpting. The coffee houses will take care of
themselves with the right people running them, and we can just make
it around the world for a while and lay back and dig the scene. Youll
love it Harry. Walking through miles of Titians in the Louvre. You
mean the Lou ver? hahaha. A place I always wanted to go was
Instanbul. I don't know why, but Ive always wanted to go to
Instanbul. Especially on the Orient Express, you know? Maybe with
Turhan Bey and Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre. Krist, cant forget
him. Remember him in M? Marion nodded her head. I always wondered
what it was like to be like that, you know a child molester. I dont
know, but Ive always felt sort of sorry for those dudes, I mean I
feel sorry for the kids too, but the guys, krist thats really got to
be something to have to pick up little kids and con them into going
down some cellar or someplace and then making it with them, jesus ...
I wonder what goes on their heads, like what do they think about? It
must be a drag when they wake up alone and know what they did . . .
jesus. And in the joint all the other prisoners hate them, ya know
that? Marion nodded her head again, They're the most despised guys in
the joint. Everybodys on their case and when some con dumps them
nobody does anything about it even when they know who did it. They
just turn their back and go the other way and in some joints they
punk them and if they dont go for it they rape them. Man, its got to
be a tough bit. Im sure glad thats not my shtik, leaning forward and
looking even more intently at Marion, his eyes straining from their
sockets, his chest vibrating from the beating of his heart, Im glad
its us and we dont need nothing or anything else, just us, he grabbed
her hands in his and caressed them for a moment then kissed her
fingertips then the palms of her hands then held them tight against
his mouth for a moment then caressed her palm with the tip of his
tongue and looked over her hands at her and she smiled from her
mouth, her eyes, her heart and her entire being, I love you Harry.
We're going to do great things, baby, and show this world where its
at because I can feel it in my bones, I mean I can really feel it,
theres nothing I cant do, nothing, and Im going to make you the
happiest woman in the world and thats a promise and a fact because
Ive got something in me thats always been trying to come out and with
you baby its going to come out and nothing can stop me, its right to
the top and if you want the moon then its yours and I'll even wrap it
up for you—Marion continued to hold his hands and look into his
eyes, her expression soft and loving—Im telling you I feel like
Cyrano, and he stood up and waved his right arm around as if holding
a sword, Bring me giants, not mere mortals, bring me giants and I'll
chop them up in little pieces and— The doorbell rang and Marion got
up and went to the door, chuckling, I hope its not a very big one.
She opened the door and Tyrone dragassed in. Harry stood in the
middle of the living room waving his imaginary sword, This is a
giant? On guard! and he started fencing with Tyrone who just stood
there trying to raise his eyes, My father was the best swordsman in
Tel Aviv, and he continued to go through his fencing number lunging
forward, parrying, thrusting, bending at the knee and suddenly, while
bent low, he thrust forth his trusty rapier and struck his enemy a
mortal blow, touched Harry bowed, his fighting arm at his waist, and
ushered Tyrone into the kitchen. Marion laughed. Hey man, what the
fucks wrong with you. Wrong with me? Nothings wrong with me. I never
felt better in my life. Its a great day. A momentous day. A day that
will go down in the annals of history as the day Harry Goldfarb
turned the world around, upside down, and on its ass, the .day I fell
hopelessly and completely in love and give to my betroved my white
plume, and he bowed deeply again and Marion curtsied and accepted the
plume and he knelt at her feet and kissed her extended hand, Arise,
Sir Harold, royal knight of the garter, defender of the realm, my
beloved prince— Sheeit, alls ah did was askim whats wrong with him
and ah gets television on the hoof—Marion and Harry were laughing
and Tyrone seemed to be held up by invisible strings that threatened
to snap at any moment—Yawl is crazy. You alright Ty? you look a
little pale, and Harry broke up laughing. Now aint this a shame? aint
this a mutha fuckin shame? Youd better close your eyes man, youll
bleed to death, and Harry laughed louder and Marion giggled as she
shook her head. O sheeit. Ah feel like Im in the middle of a mutha
fuckin comic book jim. Harry was still laughing, You got to get with
it man. Dont be a drag, feed your dog flag. Tyrone flopped at the
kitchen table and looked up at Marion. Whatch you feedin this cat,
baby? Love man. Shes feeding me love. Ive finally found the diet Ive
been looking for all my life. Dont you know that its love that makes
the world go round man. Ah aint worried bout the world baby, jus you.
Harry and Marion laughed as Tyrone smiled weakly and Harry twirled
Marion around in a circle then put his arm around her waist and
kissed her delicate throat ever so lightly as she bent slightly on
his arm. Ah been up all night and day ballin till ah feel like mah
ass be in mah shoes and you stand there with your big ugly face
flappin in the breeze an tell me love make the world go round.
Sheeit. It make me wanna sleep for thirty-seven years. Tyrone giggled
and Harry and Marion laughed and she gave him a dexie and Tyrone
popped it and gulped at a cup of coffee. Ah dont know why Im here. Ah
swear ah dont. If that fox didn't wake me up and say ah got to go
cause I make her promise me she'd get mah ass out . . . sheeit, ah
could sleep on a picket fence. Its the power of love Ty. Thats what
got you here. We sent out vibrations of love so your pale, but sweet
little ass could get over here so we can go make that bread to get
that piece. Sheeit. What do love have to do with bein greedy for a
piece? Harry bent Marion over as he held her with a hand on her back
and sang, ala Russ Columbo, Ah but you call it madness, but I call it
love. Ah just hopes ah survives long enough for that funky ass cap to
work before yawl drive me bananas. Thats not much of a drive, thats a
short put, and Harry broke up laughing as Marion giggled and shook
her head, O Harry, thats awful, and Tyrones eyes flashed open,
briefly, and he looked at Harry, a mock expression of disbelief on
his face, Somebody oughtta shoot this dude, jim, he be in baaaad
pain, and Tyrones giggling joined Harrys laughter and Marion started
laughing and they all sat at the table and when Marion stopped
laughing she refilled the coffee cups and Harry finally slowed enough
to take a couple of deep breaths and got hung up in a tune and his
consciousness was absorbed by, and involved in, the tune and he half
closed his eyes and nodded and finger popped as he listened, Sheeit,
he may look like a fool but he shure do sound betta this way . . .
damn, that tickles me, and Marion started laughing and Tyrone
continued giggling and Harry looked at him with his cool expression,
Be cool man, and went back to nodding and finger popping and Tyrone
C. Love finished his second cup of coffee and the hinges on his eyes
sprung the lids open and he started sipping on his third cup of
coffee and lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair, Blow your
ass off, baby, and started nodding and finger popping and Harry, with
his eyes still half closed, extended his arm out to the side, the
palm up, and Tyrone slapped it, Sheeit, we's gonna make it baby, and
Harry slapped his, Yeahhhhhh, and Marion leaned against Harry and he
put an arm around her as they listened and felt the strength of
determination pound through them, occasionally nodding toward the
clock, waiting for the time, the time that was now going fleetingly
by, to step forth to a new dimension. . . .