Requiem for a Dream (17 page)

muttered a holy shit under his breath. Her hair was bright red and he
hadnt even noticed. It still didnt make much sense but he figured
that her hair must have been a different color before, but he
couldn't remember what it was— so guess how many of the ladies are
going to get red hair? Go ahead, guess? Ma, whatta my goin to guess?
Six. Six ladies. Before I got red hair people on the street, little
kids, maybe they say something, but now they know, even little
children, Im going on the television and they like the red hair and
they like me. Everyone likes me. Soon millions of people will see me
and like me. And I'll tell them about you and your father. I'll tell
them how your father liked the red dress and the big party he made
for your bar mitzvah. Remember? Harry nodded, feeling defeated and
worn out. He didnt know what was defeating him, but he sensed it was
something he could not cope with, something that was far beyond his
power to control or even at this point in time comprehend. He had
never seen his mother so alive, so involved with anything in her
life. The only time he had ever seen anybody so enthused and excited
was when somebody told an old dope fiend about some good shit and he
had enough money to cop. His mother had a light in her eyes when she
talked about the television and her red dress that he couldnt
remember seeing there before. Maybe when he was a little kid, but he
couldnt remember back that far. Something in her attitude was so
strong that it simply overpowered him and made any continued
resistance or attempt to change her mind impossible. He just
passively sat and watched and listened to his mother, part of him
confused, and part of him happy that she was happy. And who knows
what [ might win? A new refrigerator. A Rolls-Royce maybe. Robert
Redford. Robert Redford? So whats wrong with Robert Redford? Harry
just blinked and shook his head, bewildered, and went with the flow.
Sara looked at her son, her only child, with a tangible earnestness,
the grin and grinding gone, replaced with a plea that softened her
eyes and calmed her voice, Its not the prizes Harry. It doesn't make
any difference if I win or lose or if I just shake hands with the
announcer. Its like a reason to get up in the morning. Its a reason
to lose weight so I can be healthy. Its a reason to fit in the red
dress. Its a reason to smile already. It makes tomorrow alright. Sara
leaned a little closer to her son, What have I got Harry? Why should
I even make the bed or wash the dishes? I do them, but why should I?
Im alone. Seymours gone, youre gone—Harry tried to protest but his
mouth hung silently open—I have no one to take care of. Ada does
the hair. Anybody. Everybody. What do I have? Im lonely Harry. Im
old. Harry was completely flustered, his head shaking, eyes blinking,
hands fidgeting with each other, voice stammering, You got friends
ma, what— Its not the same. You need someone to make for. How can I
shop when I dont cook for someone? I buy an onion, a carrot, an
occasional chicken, a little nosh, Sara shrugged, for me how can I
cook a roast? a special . . . special . . . anything? No Harry, I
like how I feel this way. I like thinking about the red dress and the
television . . . and your father and you. Now when I get the sun I
smile. I'll come visit ma. Now that Im straight, my business is going
good, I'll come. Me and Marion—Sara was shaking her head and
smiling— honest ma. I swear. We'll come for dinner. Soon. Sara
shook her head and smiled at her only child, trying hard to believe,
Good, you bring her and I' ll make your favorite borscht and stuffed
fish. That sounds great ma. I'll give ya a call ahead a time, okay?
Sara nodded, Good. Im glad. Im glad you got a nice girl and a good
business. Im glad. Your father and I were always wanting only the
very best for you. I see on the television how its always alright in
the end. All the time. Sara got up and put her arms around her son
and hugged him close to her, tears gently caressing her cheeks, Im
glad Harry that you have someone to be with. You should be healthy
and happy. And have lots of babies. Dont have only one. Its no good.
Have lots of babies. Theyll make you happy. Harry did the best he
could to hug his mother and allow her to hug him without trying to
pull away, and he held on to her with desperation, the reason why
completely unknown to him, something impelling him to hold, and be
held, for as long as possible, as if this were some momentous event.
He felt cramped and crowded, but he hung on somehow against his will.
Eventually, just when he thought he would disintegrate, his mother
backed off slightly and looked into his face and smiled, Look, Im
crying already. Im so happy Im crying. Harry forced his face into a
tight smile with the utmost of effort, Im glad youre happy ma. I
really love ya. An Im sorry—Sara shook her head and waved away his
apologies, tosh, tosh—I really am. But Im goin ta make it up now.
You should just be happy. Dont worry about me. Im used to being
alone. They looked at each other for a moment, silent and smiling,
and Harry thought his face was about to crack open and he moved and
looked at his watch, I got to go ma. I have an appointment downtown
in a couple a minutes. But I'll be back. Good. I'll make for you. You
still have your key? Yeah, I got it ma, shpwing her his key ring. I'd
better hurry. Im late now. Goodbye son, and Sara gave him another hug
and kiss, and Harry left. Sara looked at the door for many minutes,
time seeming to have no meaning, then poured herself another cup of
coffee and sat at the table nurturing her feeling of sadness. She
thought of Harry as a little baby with chunky legs and cheeks and
dressing him warm and wrapping three blankets around him when she
took him out in the cold weather, and when he started to walk, and
how he loved the playground, and the slide, and the swings, and then
the coffee started to stimulate the chemicals in her body and her
heart started beating faster and she started grinding her teeth and
clenching her jaw and a feeling of elation started to pump its way
through her and she started to think about her red dress and the
weight she was losing and the television— zophtic, zophtic—and
her face started to squeeze itself into a grin and she decided to
finish the pot of coffee and then go out and tell the ladies about
how good her Harry was doing with his own business and a fiancee and
how she'll soon be a grandmother. It was a happy ending.

Harry felt confused and bewildered when he left his
mothers. He was not only confused and bewildered, he was aware of it.
He knew he always had a hard time being around his mother, she always
seemed to know how to push his buttons and drive him up the wall, but
something happened this time that was different and unexpected, and
he didnt know what in the hell it was. He didnt feel like lashing out
at her but rather he felt like crawling up inside himself. Or maybe
he always felt like that. He didnt know. Shit! It was confusing as
hell. Red hair. Red dress. Television. It all seemed so goofy yet
there was something happening, a feeling of some kind, that seemed to
make it alright. Maybe it was because his mother was happy. That was
a gasser. He never realized how much he wanted his mother to be
happy. Never thought of it like that before. It was just that she was
always a drag to be around. But she sure as hell was up today. Yeah,
on those goddamn pills. Jesus, he didn't know what in the hell to do.
His old lady on those goddamn diet pills and dyeing her hair red . .
. Harry shook his head as the words and thoughts and feelings
bombarded him, increasing his confusion and bewilderment. He didnt
know what was happening with his mother, but he sure as hell knew
that he needed a fix. Yeah, a little taste and everything will be
just fine.

For many weeks Tyrone was able to cop that dynamite
shit that they were able to cut four times and still put a boss bag
on the streets. That safety deposit box was filling up with bucks and
they were nosing around to see where they could get a pound of pure.
They had to be as quiet as possible so that the wrong people didnt
get ideas and rip them off. There seemed to be some new people
peddlin the shit and they were the people they were trying to get in
contact with because they were the ones putting out that dynamite.
They handnt made the contact yet, but they were getting close, real
close. And things were going great. Theyd lay off the stuff to the
street guys and just lay back and let the business take care of
itself. The demand was always there. It was definitely a sellers
market and they just waited for them to come to them. They realized
they didnt have to sweat it so they dipped a little more into the
merchandise. They didnt have to get worried about being strung out
when they were the connection, not that that was a real problem. They
knew they could stop any time they wanted to. If they should ever
want to.

Another couple of weeks passed and Sara still hadnt heard from the
television people, but that didnt bother her at all until today.
Today she got up and tried on the red dress and she could actually
zip the back closed. The last few inches \vere tucking and tugging,
tucking and tugging, with also a little grunting and a lot of deep
breathing, but it closed. Soon she would be able to wear it and
breathe at the same time. Now she started to become concerned about
hearing from them what show she would be on and when. If even they
didn't tell her when, if she just knew the show she could watch it
and know what to expect, sort of a rehearsal, and she could tell the
ladies and she could maybe have them in to watch the show on her
gorgeous new set that her son Harry gave her now that he is doing so
well in business, his own business, and she wished he would come with
his fiancee to dinner and she could make the borscht and stuffed fish
that Harry likes so much just like his father who used to always
smack his lips and ask for more . . . Sara sighed . . . but Harry
called the other day to ask how she was and say hello and tell her
again he would soon visit but he couldnt do it now because he was all
tied up with business. But couldnt you come? If even for only a
little while? Ma, I toldya, I'm tied up. I got a. lot of irons in the
fire and I have ta be around ta take care a them. Your own mother?
Not even a little visit? What did I do Harry that you should not want
to see me? Whatta ya talkin about for krists sake? I aint doin nothin
to ya. You could come with your fiancee and let me give her a hug and
a kiss. You oughtta lay off those pills. Theyre makin ya goofier than
usual. So now Im crazy? Who said anything about crazy? Hey ma, will
you lighten up and stop playin those guilt games with my head? Games?
What games? Just cool it, eh? I just called ya up to tell ya I love
ya and that I'll see ya soon and you start laying guilt trips on me
and I dont need it, okay? Okay, okay. I dont know what you dont need,
but okay. I guess maybe you dont need me, but okay. Harry breathed
deeply and shook his head and squeezed the phone, hard, and thanked
God he had sense enough to get off before making the call, Look ma, I
dont wanta hassle you, okay? I love ya an I'll see you soon. Take
care. Be well Harry. He hung up and she shrugged and poured herself
another cup of coffee and sat at the table waiting expectantly for
the coffee to reactivate the diet pills and send that flush of
euphoria through her system and soon she was grinning and grinding
and went back out to the street to join the ladies and get some sun.
And if she didnt hear from the television by Monday she would give
them a call.

Harry and Marion were getting off twice a day, sometimes more, and
inbetween were smoking a lot of pot and dropping an occasional pill.
They looked at Marions sketches of the coffee house they were going
to open, but with diminishing frequency and enthusiasm. Somehow there
just didnt seem to be time for it though they spent a lot of time
just lying around and not doing much of anything in particular and
making vague plans for the future and enjoying the feeling that
everything would always be alright, just like it was now. When Harry
resigned from the business, Marion insisted they would not live in
the suburbs, and they would not live in a house with a white picket
fence, and they would not barbecue on Sundays, and they would not—
Hey, wait a second, eh? What are we going to do? and he grabbed her
by a boob and put his other arm around her and kissed her on the
throat and she pushed him away and giggled and hunched her shoulders
to cover her neck, Dont, dont, Im ticklish. Okay, so we're not going
to tickle you either. So what else? We're not going to own a
Cadillac, and we're not going to visit my family at Passover, as a
matter of fact we are not going to have a Passover or even have a box
of matzoh in the house. Harry kept nodding his head and rolling his
eyes as she counted off another will not, But we will have a nice
place in the west side of the Village, and we will stop in for an
occasional drink in a neighborhood bar, and we will shop on Bleecker
Street and have lots of nice cheese, especially provolone, hanging in
the kitchen, and anything else we want. Harry raised his eyebrows, O,
anything else we want? Dont worry about it Harry, we'll be able to
have it. He smiled and pulled her close to him, I have it now, and he
kissed her and slowly moved the palm of his hand over her ass, you
have everything I want. Marion put her arms around his neck, O Harry,
I love you. You make me feel like a person, like Im me and Im
beautiful. You are beautiful. Youre the most beautiful woman in the
world. Youre my dream.

As usual, Sara started her day on Monday with her purple pill and
a pot of coffee, but somehow it wasnt doing what she was used to it
doing. The weight was still coming off and the red dress was zipping
up without too much stuffing, but there was something missing, even
after a pot of coffee. She didnt feel the same like she did when she
first started taking the pills. It was like they took something out
of them. Maybe they made a mistake and gave her the wrong pills?
Maybe she should get stronger ones? She called the doctors office and
talked with the nurse and asked two, three, how many times, if she
was sure she didnt give her the wrong pills? No Mrs. Goldfarb, Im
absolutely certain. But maybe you gave me a smaller one the last
time. That isnt possible Mrs. Goldfarb. You see they are all the same
potency. The change is in the color. All the purple are the same
strength, all the red, etc. But something isnt the same. Youre just
becoming adjusted to them. At first you may get a strong reaction,
but after a while that wears off and you just dont feel like eating.
Its nothing to worry about Mrs. Goldfarb. You mean Im—I have to
hang up, my other phone is ringing. Sara looked at the phone for a
second, So click. Maybe shes right. Im not eating—zophtic,
zophtic—and the dress is going on. She sighed, Im thinking thin.
She unthinkingly made another pot of coffee while looking at her jar
of tea, and drank it as she puttered around the house before putting
on a sweater and going out to get some sun with the ladies. It was a
little chilly in the morning now, and evenings, but they still sat
and in the afternoon it was warmer. She put her chair in her spot for
a while and then got up, but without her usual buoyancy and smile.
Sit, sit. Why you have to be all the time like a yo yo. I'll sit. I
feel a little jumpy today. Today youre feeling jumpy? Yesterday you
were sitting quiet and calm? Sara, for weeks youre like a young girl
thinking about Robert Redford, the ladies laughing and chuckling. You
should relax. Soon youll be on the television and you shouldnt be
like a jitterbug, chuckling and laughter. Im waiting, Im waiting. I
think it will come today and then I can relax when I know what show
and maybe theyll tell me when. Sara shrugged, Who knows. The red
dress fits now, Sara still pacing around in a small circle, then
walking out to the curb, looking up and down the street but not
paying attention to what she was seeing, then going back to the
ladies, sitting for a moment, then up again and pacing in ever
widening circles, but my hair needs a touch up. So tomorrow we'll fix
it up like new and youll be gorgeous just like Rita Hayworth. Sara
posed with a hand on her hip, Zophtic, the ladies laughing. Sara
looked up and down the street again, Todays the day. I know, todays
the day.