Requiem for a Dream (19 page)

New York was no longer a summer festival and Harry and Tyrone were
hit with a cold shot . . . Brody couldnt score any more uncut weight.
What! Thas right. He can get weight, but its been cut. Shit man . . .
what happened? Tyrone shrugged and rubbed his head with the palm of
his hand, Brody say it look like somebody trying to stretch out their
dope. Stretch it out? Tyrone was still nodding, An if Brody caint get
no uncut weight aint no body gettin it. Harry was staring at the
package on the table, We cant do any more than pay for our own stuff
this way. Well, why doan we just stop using???? They stared at each
other for a moment, the implication of Tyrones question slowly,
through much resistance, sinking in and registering. Harry shrugged,
Yeah, I guess we'd better. But I guess we may just as well get off
now an cool it tomorrow. Yeah, baggin this shit without a tase is a
draig. Harry chuckled, Looks like we're gonna end up with a supply of
milk sugar. Thas okay baby, someday we be gettin us that pound of
pure an we be needin it than.

Marion and Alice were all for not using and so all went to sleep
that night with a grim resolve. They got up about noon, smoked a
joint with their coffee, feeling good about the fact that they werent
giving any thought to, not using, and sat around for a while, watched
a little television, talked about maybe eating something, but not
really feeling like it, then sort of moped around thinking and
talking about the various things that should be done that day and
making plans for doing them, then watched a little more TV, and more
coffee, and more grass, spending much of the time dabbing at their
running eyes and noses, and by three oclock they realized they were
making a big deal out of nothing, that if they really wanted to stop
using they certainly could, they were proving that right then, but it
was stupid to panic and to think the world was coming to an end just
because they couldnt score for any uncut weight right now, so they
got back into the spoon. Their noses and eyes cleared up and they
listened to music as they ate.

A week later they still couldnt score for any uncut weight so they
tried again to stop using, but this time they were back in the spoon
before they were dressed. They awoke earlier than usual with panic
roiling their stomachs, their eyes burning and their noses running,
and the magic of the dope healed all their ills immediately. It wasnt
that they couldnt stop using, it was just that this wasnt the time.
They had too much to do and they werent feeling well. When everything
was straightened out they would simply cut the whole scene loose, but
for now theyd take an occasional taste to hang loose.

Sara finally developed a morning schedule that enabled her to
accomplish a few very necessary things. She took her purple, red and
orange pills at once, drank a pot of coffee, then tried on the red
dress and golden shoes and spun around in front of the mirror looking
so zophtic and feeling so good and trying to force from her mind how
she would be feeling by noon. She kept the dress on and sat in her
viewing chair and watched the shows, no longer spinning the selector,
but watching the entire show. She saw the announcer, the audience,
the prizes, and heard the laughter and applause, then forced herself,
with much effort, to cross the stage to where the announcer was
waiting, a big smile on his face, and listened to the applause, but
now she couldnt control herself and she left the screen and came into
the room and walked around the apartment, looking at the old, old
furnishings, the lack of light and life, then tried to get back into
the set but couldnt quite make it and eventually seemed to disappear
somewhere, Sara wasnt quite sure where, maybe in the back of the set
or under the bed, someplace. It puzzled Sara. She looked all over the
house, but couldnt find the little red riding hood. The next time she
paid closer attention to where she went and asked her what she was
doing and where she was going, but she just looked up at her and
tossed her head and shrugged her shoulders and gave her a So who are
you? look and went her merry way and again disappeared. For days she
was stepping right out of the set and walking around. She didnt jump
down to the floor, but just sort of stepped out of the screen and was
on the floor and very obviously and noisily ignored Sara as she
roamed around looking down her nose at the apartment, occasionally
looking over at Sara disapprovingly and gave a huff and a humf, and
continued on her way inspecting everything and finding fault with
everything and giving Sara that look of looking down while looking
up. Finally Sara got upset and angry and stared right back at her,
Who are you to be telling me? Who do you think you are? and Sara
turned her nose up at her, and when she lowered her gaze she had
disappeared. For many mornings the same thing until one morning the
announcer left the set too, and little red riding hood led him around
the apartment showing him this and that, the both of them shaking
their heads with overwhelming disapproval, then looking up at Sara,
shaking their heads again, then back at the spot of inspection, back
to Sara, another shake of the head and off to another area to
continue the inspection and the disapproving glances and shakes. For
three mornings it happened and each time Sara felt worse as she
watched them look at the shabbiness of her apartment, What do you
expect? You could do better all alone? Its an old building. Ten years
no painting, maybe more. Im old. Alone. You do it. Im trying, Im
trying, and Sara could feel a hot twisting in her gut and a wave of
nausea clutch her throat, Please . . . please. I'll explain. But they
didnt stay to listen but went right back into the set and waved at
the audience and then hundreds of people followed them out of the set
and around the drabneses of her tiny apartment and the television
followed with their cameras and other equipment, the thick cables
stretched across the floor and Sara could see herself sitting in her
viewing chair looking at the set surrounded by the lifeless gloom of
her apartment and it seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as she
watched it on the screen and felt it happening around her and she was
feeling a sensation of being crushed, not by the walls, but by her
shame and despair. She didnt know what they were finding and seeing,
but she knew it was bad ... o so very bad. She should have looked
before they got here. What was there? She was cleaning the other day.
No? She wasnt sure. She changed the channel, but the picture was the
same. Every channel, again and again, the picture the same. Millions
of people were watching her stand in front of her set trying to
change the channel, to change the picture, and she felt something
crawling within her. Everybody knew her shame. Everybody. Millions.
Millions of people were already knowing, but she didnt know. The
tears whirled around in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She
didnt even know. She only knew that they knew and that she was
overwhelmed with shame and despair. And now she could see the little
lady in red and the announcer leading the people around her dingy
little apartment, on the screen she could see them and they were
looking out at her with expressions of disgust. Sara clung to the
television set trying to hide the screen and slowly, ever so
painfully slow, she folded into herself until she was kneeling in
front of the set and leaning against it, her head hanging low, her
tears staining her red dress that she wore at her Harrys bar mitzvah,
curling into a ball as the screen filled with people looking down on
her disapprovingly and she hugged herself as a huge wave rolled from
her stomach up to her throat and she felt herself drowning in her
tears, O please, please ... let me on the show . . . please . . .
please. . . .

Brody got burned. Snuffed. Tyrone couldnt find out exactly what
happened—he asked a half dozen people and got a half dozen
answers—but how it happened was unimportant, the fact that he was
cold stone dead was. He was found in an alley either shot, stabbed,
shoved off a roof, or by what they call misadventure. His pockets
were empty so it was obvious he was done in. Whenever he was out of
the pad he was either holding or had the bread to cop. Tyrone
listened to the stories and boolshit for a while then split. All the
way back to the pad he bugged himself about not having a good backup
connection. They had looked around half assed, but Brody was getting
such dynamite shit they knew they couldnt do better if they went to
France. Then when he ran out they just couldnt seem to get around to
looking for somebody else, being convinced that the dynamite would be
back soon, that if there was anything good in town that Brody would
sniff it out. Now they were fucked . . . s.o.l., just plain shit out
of luck. Jesus krist man, thats a fuckin drag. Getting himself fuckin
killed an leavin us high and dry like this. It just dont figure. Not
Brody. Not after all these years. Well baby, seem like we gotta do
somethin. Caint just sit aroun here. Yeah. Thats no fuckin lie. Shit!
What a lousy fuckin break! Just my fuckin luck! Hey mah man, cool it.
Aint gonna do no good sittin aroun here nose wipin our selves. Yeah,
yeah, I know man. It just gripes my shit is all. Well it dont make me
feel like doin no tip toe through the mutha fuckin tulips jim, but we
gotta get our little asses out there an see what we cain do. Harry
finally chuckled slightly, Yeah, I'll go to the front of the bus an
youll go to the back. Yeaahhh, ah always did like mah business in
black and white. Sheeit, we'll latch on to some-thin baby. We jus be
cool an somethin will break.

Sara had to go to the store. For days she had to go, but couldnt
move. Couldnt get out of the house. She didnt get the sun. If there
was a sun. Maybe its cloudy outside too. Inside its like night. Maybe
worse. Night, you put on the light and its cheerful. Now its gray.
Gray. She had to get to the store. For days she had to go. If Ada
would come. Maybe then? Maybe she should call? Ada would take her.
She'd ask her why she cant go? What could she say? She didnt know.
Its just the store. Yes. Just the store. But she couldnt go. She knew
it was wrong not to go. Something bad. She could feel inside it was
bad. Crawly. How could— LOOK OUT!!!! no no no no ahhhh. hh—How
could she tell her? Whats to say? Whats to say???? She had to go. For
days now. No toilet paper. No sugar. Now its all gone. Now she had to
go. She had to get out. Just get up and walk across the room. That's
all. Up and out the door. Little red riding hood. Ipsy pip—LOOK
OUT! Nothing. Nowhere. Nothing. She was going. The refrigerator was
changing shape. It was nearer. With a huge mouth. Closer . . . She
got up. Her pocketbook. Where? Where? She found it. She clutched it
with both hands. She was moving toward the door. The refrigerator
moved. Closer. Out of shape. Almost all mouth. Her gold shoes clicked
on the kitchen floor. The red dress was wrinkled. She yanked at the
door. The refrigerator got closer. The television was bigger. The
screen got bigger and bigger. She yanked at the knob. People came out
of the set. The door opened. She banged it behind her. She wobbled on
her gold shoes. The high heels clicked on the tile. The breeze was a
little cool. It was gray here too. Nobody by the house. She walked
down the street. Swaying. Wavering. Holding on to the wall. She
reached the corner. Stopped. The traffic. Traffic! TRAFFIC!!!! Cars.
Trucks. Buses. People. Noise. Movements. Whirls. She was dizzy. She
clung to the light post. Desperately. She couldnt move. The light
turned green. She clung. Knuckles white. The light continued to click
from green to yellow. To red. To green. Over and over. Many times.
Many, many times. The people passed. Some looked. Shrugged.
Continued. Sara clung. She looked across the street. Up and down.
Waiting for the light. Safe to cross. She tried. She stopped looking.
Hid face in pole. Hung on. Hung on. The noises blurred. Flashes of
light stabbed her closed lids. She hung on. The pole was cold. She
could feel the clicking in the pole. She hung on ... So whats
happening? Ada and Rae looked at her. Youre holding up the pole? Sara
slowly moved her head. She looked at them. Sara, youre not looking so
good. Sara just stared at them. They looked at each other for a
moment, then each grabbed an arm and helped Sara to Adas apartment.
Sara trembled slightly and they gave her a glass tea and Sara sat
mutely sad gripping her glass with both hands, occasionally lowering
her face to it and sipping the tea as she stared dully in front of
her. I thought you were just a antsy pants, but now Im wondering. Ada
and Rae smiled and chuckled and Sara started to respond, To just be
antsy pantsy would be a pleasure. Maybe you got already a virus. Why
dont you go to see your doctor? He can give you a anti something. My
appointment isnt for two days. For two days? Whats the matter, you
get sick by appointment? Whats he going to say? stay well now and get
sick in two days? They all chuckled and Sara frowned inwardly because
she hadnt thought of going to the doctor. She puzzled it for a
second, then let it go away to some place and listened to the
chuckles, felt herself chuckling, and sipped the tea until the glass
was empty.

The waiting room was filled like always and Ada and Rae talked as
Sara just sat. When she got to see the doctor she told him she wasnt
feeling so good. And just what seems to be the problem? Your weight
seems to be doing very well, and he smiled at her. The weight is
fine. Im not so good. The television people are coming out and—LOOK
OUT! and Sara whirled around and looked behind her, around her, under
the chair, then at and around the doctor. He kept his teeth hanging
out in a smile. Something wrong? Things are all funny. Mixed up.
Confused like— Well, thats nothing to worry about. He wrote
something on a slip of paper, You just give this to the nurse and
make an appointment for a week. See you then. She was alone in the
room with a piece of paper. She stared at it for a few moments, then
forced herself out of the room. She handed the paper to the girl. He
said one week. I have an appointment in two days. O fine. We'll
cancel that and put you down for one week from today. Lets see now,
how about three oclock. Sara nodded. Good. My pills? I'll give you
another weeks supply. Sara and her body sighed with relief. Good.
Thank you. Now lets see what we have here. Okay. The girl got a
bottle and dumped out a handful of capsules and counted twenty one
and put them in a small bottle and put a label on it. You take one
capsule three times a day. I have it on the label. Whats this? O,
just something to help calm you down.