Requiem for a Dream

by Hubert Selby Jr.

  Harry picked Marion up by the waist and spun her around after he hung up the phone, We're on our way baby, we're really on our way. At this rate we'll have that pound of pure in no time and then watch our smoke. O Im glad Harry, hugging and kissing him, Im so glad. I didnt think it would bother me, but I was worried the whole night. I guess I never thought of it before but all of a sudden everything out there seemed so threatening. You want to know something sweetheart? I was sweatin it too. You get busted with that much weight and you got a heavy beef, theyre going to lay some heavy time on your head. Are you going to have to go through this every night? Naw. Marions face was wrinkled with concern and Harry smiled at her. We just wanted to push it as much as possible so we could turn over enough stuff to cop two more pieces tomorrow while we could still get that great stuff- Then we'll cool it an get some place where we can lay it off. I hope so sweetheart. Last night was one of the loneliest nights I have ever spent. Harry hugged and kissed her again, Dont worry, in no time we wont be goin near the streets. We' ll off the stuff to the dope fiend pushers and just lay back—but lets forget all that, eh? Lets take a little taste an lay back and talk about our coffee house and those trips to europe. They got off and stretched out on the couch, listening to the music, and went over their future once more, making more specific plans for their first coffee house, Marion getting her sketch pad and pencils and sketching the ideas as they came up with them and soon they had a complete floor plan for the first one, complete with hanging plants, small stage for performances, a small aviary in the open air garden that had grapevines growing over it, and all the walls constructed specially for paintings up out of the way of harm; and then Marion started to describe the place she had in mind for the coffee house in San Francisco and sketched that too and showed him what could be done with it and how much he would love Fishermans Wharf and the mimes that perform there and the great restaurants and you know their theater is really excellent and theres always something happening there just like in New York as far as music and art are concerned, or anything for that matter, and she put on the Kindertoten-lieder and played that a few times as they sat side by side on the couch drawing, talking, leaning against each other and suddenly laughing or chuckling and hugging each other and kissing and dreaming and believing. . . .

  The waiting room was crowded. Sara didn't know anyone there, but they had a familiar look, even the young thin ones. She filled in the form and handed it back to the nurse and shortly after was led to one of the examining rooms. The nurse weighed and measured her and asked her how she was, Fine, thats why Im here, and they both laughed. She took her blood pressure and asked her how her hearing and vision were and Sara told her she had both, and the nurse laughed again then left the room. In a little while the doctor came in and looked at the chart the nurse had prepared, then looked up at Sara and smiled, I see youre a little overweight. A little? I have fifty pounds Im willing to donate. Well, I think we can take care of that without any trouble. He listened to her heart for a second, tapped her back twice with with his fingers, then went back to the chart. You seem to be in good condition. The nurse will give you a package of pills to take with a pamphlet of complete instructions. She will also give you an appointment for a week. I will see you then, and he was gone. Sara got her package of pills and the nurse explained the instructions so that Sara understood them completely. Okay, this I understand, but tell me dolly, how much does the doctor charge? He said to come back in a week and I don't have any money. O, dont worry about that Mrs. Goldfarb, we'll arrange it so that Medicare will take care of the bill. O, good. Thats a relief. So a week I see you again. Right. Goodbye, Mrs. Goldfarb. Goodbye, dolly. Take care.

  Sara sat at the kitchen table, the pills and directions in front of her. So lets see, the purple one I take in the morning and the red one I take in the afternoon, the orange one I take in the evening, she turned and smirked at the refrigerator, thats my three meals Mr. Smarty Pants (the refrigerator frowned in curious silence) and the green one at night. So, just like that. One, two, three, four, ipsy, pipsy and the pounds come falling off. So I'd better take the purple one now, its almost time for my red one, and she chuckled as she pranced over to the sink to get a glass of water and take her breakfast pill. She hummed as she opened the refrigerator and took out the cream cheese and pushed the door closed with smug superiority and opened the bag on the table and took out a large onion roll and unwrapped a piece of smoked fish. So look Mr. Ice Box and eat your heart out. Im splurging. Soon I'll be saving lots of money on the food bill. She shrugged her shoulders and tossed her head at the refrigerator and smeared the roll with cream cheese and picked up loving tidbits of fish, Hmmmmmmmmmm, smacked her lips, and turned in her chair so Mr. Smarty Pants Ice Box could see her devour the delicacy.

  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 sa
t 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 pro
blems 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.