Requiem for a Dream

by Hubert Selby Jr.

  All the radiators clicked, but they were still cold. The panic continued and they were back to the old routine of scuffling the streets, just getting enough to get straight and nothing more. Marion was able to keep a good supply of sleeping pills in the house through her doctors, but she was still hysterical most of the time. Those mornings when they woke up and there was nothing in the house, having used the last the night before when their disease convinced them that it would be alright, that they wouldnt be sick in the morning, she became hysterical and trembled as she shot up a sleeping pill, occasionally blowing a shot and burning her arm so it swelled and turned red and she cried and yelled at Harry that it was his fault they didnt have their morning shot. What the hell you talkin about? Youre the one who was all hot in the fuckin biscuit to get off again last night. Well one bag wasnt enough. Its not my fault it was no good. I needed the other bag. Thats a bunch a bullshit. You couldve made it on that bag. You wouldve nodded out and slept like you always do. I do not nod and sleep, and you know that. And if I could have made it on that bag, why didnt you? You were all for using it last night. Sure, why not? Whatta my gonta do? just sit and watch you get high and not get high myself? Then just dont put all the weight on me, thats all. And leave me alone. You made me blow the first shot and now my arm is all messed up and I dont know where Im going to hit. What the fuck ya mean I made ya blow the shot? And whose the one goin out in this fuckin weather to cop? Youre the only one who can. If I could I would. Theres no joy sitting here alone, waiting. Ah fuck you, eh? Just let me get off and get out there and see whats happenin. Harry shot up a couple of the goof balls and tried to think a bigger and better flash than he got, and tried to think himself higher than he was, but though he didnt succeed, he wasnt sick and would be able to get down some hot chocolate that would help. As his body and mind started to calm slightly he saw Marion trying to get a hit with her left hand and she was trembling so much she was going to blow this fix too, so Harry told her he'd help her. Krist, youll kill yourself. He tied her up and rubbed her arm until a good vein came up then tapped the needle into the vein and they both stared, waiting for the blood to bubble up, and when it did Marion put her hand on the dropper, Let me, let me. Harry shrugged and sat back and Marion squeezed the fluid into her vein, then booted a couple of times, closing her eyes as the hot flush burned her body and a wave of nausea flushed through her and attacked her head momentarily, then when it subsided she opened her eyes and dropped her works in the glass of water. You okay? Marion nodded. Youd better lay off that shit. Youll burn up all your veins. If you get up tight, just drop a couple like you used to and drink the hot chocolate. Marion just looked at him and he shrugged, saying nothing. They both knew that suggestion was absurd, that sticking that needle in their arm was important, and just dropping a couple of pills, no matter how good it made them feel, just wasnt the same. They had to shoot them. Tyrone called and said he heard there was something happening so Harry hustled from the house. They pooled their money because Tyrone would be doing the copping, each one holding out enough for a few bags, just in case, and not telling the other. It had been happening so automatically that neither one thought much of it or even planned it. They simply held back money, telling the other one that was all they had. They decided to blow some of the money on a cab so they could get there faster, not wanting to blow it because they were too late. It was another scene where it was there, or at least it seemed to be, but it was also a waiting game, and so they waited, standing on the street, stamping their feet, hands buried deep in their jackets, trying to keep their backs to the bitter cold wind, it being too cold to even smoke a cigarette, afraid to go into a coffee shop for fear they might miss the man. And so they waited and shivered hoping ta krist that someone wasnt running a story down on them.

  Marion sat at the kitchen table for a while, drinking hot chocolate and then coffee, trying to think of some way to not think, of some way to busy her mind, but all she could do was just sit there trying not to look at her watch and looking at it without noticing the time. She almost laughed out loud as she suddenly remembered, They also serve who only sit and wait. Wait! God Almighty it seemed like she had spent her entire life waiting. Waiting for what???? Waiting to live. Yes, that was it alright, waiting to live. It seemed like she had become aware of that in therapy sometime, somewhere. Waiting to live. Thinking of this as a rehearsal for living. Practice. She knew all that. There was nothing new in that. If she remembered correctly—did anything correctly—the shrink she was seeing when she realized this thought that that was a rather astute observation ... an astute observation. . . . She chuckled, I guess that was before I started going to bed with him. . . . An astute observation. He hadnt heard of Henry James'A beast from the jungle. Maybe he never heard of Henry James. He was as exciting in bed as Henry James. Marion stared into her coffee cup. The sides were stained from frequent use and infrequent cleanings. . . . Like a beast from the jungle ... He told me that with such an awareness, and my intelligence and talents, I should have no trouble coming to terms with my problem and being productive. His favorite word, productive. That and sublimate. Thats all they want you to do ... sublimate and be productive. She chuckled, Just dont reproduce. Thats the other word! Just. Just do it. You ask them how you do it and they say you just do it. Now that you know the problem you zophtic stop doing the things that get you into that problem. Thats all there is to it. All of them. The same thing. Just do it. Just! She stared at her empty coffee cup, thinking of how she wanted another cup of coffee but somehow couldnt work up the initiative to move, to get the coffee pot and refill the cup and then go through the process of putting in the sugar and cream, and she tried to use her will power—that was it. Now it was complete, Just use your will power. She stared at the empty cup. . . . Eventually she got up and started to pour a cup of coffee and the pot was empty and she just looked at it then went to the living room and turned on the television and tried to allow it to occupy her mind but she continued to look at her watch and wonder if Harry had copped yet and if there really was something out there and hoping he had sense enough to hold something back so we'd be sure to have enough and then she gradually became aware of how dumb the damn show was she was watching and she stared at it, wondering how in the hell they could put anything so absurdly infantile and intellectually and esthetically insulting on television, and she started asking herself over and over how they could do it, what kind of nonsense is this, and she continued to stare and shake her head, more and more of her mind being absorbed by the absurdity she was watching, suddenly leaning back on the couch as a section of the show ended and a commercial came blaringly on and she stared at them too, wondering what sort of cretins watch this garbage and are influenced by it and actually go out and buy those things, and she shook her head, unbelievable, it is simply unbelievable, how can they manage to make so many obnoxious commercials, one right after the other? Its unbelievable, and the show came back on and she leaned forward, face pinched in a frown as she watched the completely predictable events unfold, the time passing by as she waited for something to happen. . . .

  Tyrone and Harry damn near froze their asses off. And to make it worse there was plenty of heat on the streets. The man seemed to be everywhere. If youre holding you best be off the streets jim cause the man he out there playin games with every fuckin body an thats no shit. They talked with as many dudes as possible, trying to find out where the action might be, but at the same time they didnt want to spend too much time with anyone, not knowing if the cat might have a set of works onim an the man come an they all get busted for mutha fuckin consortin. They walked around as much as possible and as little as possible. They didnt want to miss Tyrones connection, and they didnt want to freeze to the ground. They found out that there was a dude who was holding a nice taste. Who knows how much, the stories going from a piece to a truckload, but he was holdin, but he wasnt sellin. He only given it up for pussy jim. The only habit that mutha fuck have is pussy. He hooked on that thang. An h
e only goin for outta sight pussy jim. Ah mean its got to be righteous. Ah toldim ah giveim all he want, but he say ahm not pretty enough forim. Harry and Tyrone chuckled inwardly, but it was so cold they just couldnt seem to crack their faces into a smile, no less a laugh. Eventually Tyrones man came beboppin down the street and passed them by and after a few minutes Tyrone followed and after a while Harry saw Tyrone walking down the block and he followed and when Tyrone hailed a cab Harrys heart started beating faster and a surge of hope thrust itself through him and he got a taste in the back of his throat and his stomach knotted with anticipation. He jumped in the cab and closed the door. Tyrone was smiling.

  The television was still on, but Marion wasnt still sitting on the couch. She was in the bathroom, bathing her arms in hot water, rubbing them hard and then spinning them around, trying desperately to get a vein up so she could shoot up another goof ball. She was shaking, crying, and dizzy with frustration and cursing Harry for not being there with the dope and she tried to tie up her left arm but couldnt seem to do that right or anything else and she grabbed her head, Oooooooooooo, then started hitting herself on the head, and then tried to sit on the edge of the tub and slid off and ended up on the floor and beat the floor with her hands, sobbing with rage. She didnt hear Harry open the door or come in. Whatta ya doin? She looked for a second, then yanked herself up, Where have you been? Ive been waiting all day— Where the hell ya—and I cant stand this any—You cant stand— more, Marion was trembling and could hardly speak, do you hear me? and I want something here in the morning—What the fucks wrong with— do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU HEAR ME? Marions eyes were wide and she grabbed Harry by the coat and was shaking him, Im not going to bed until theres a morning shot, I cant stand it, I cant stand this being sick and waiting— Ya think Im playin fuckin games for krists sake, grabbing her and holding her by the arms until she stopped, you want to be sure we have some extra stuff, we were hipped to a dude thats holding some weight, but he aint sellin. Marion stared at Harry the way she stared at the television set, eyes wide, not believing but waiting to hear more, her hysteria keeping her from fainting and giving her the energy needed to stand stiff. Her mouth opened. He likes broads. Marion continued to stare. You worried so goddamn much I'll fix you up withim. Her mouth closed. You wont have to wait so long . . . and I wont have ta freeze my fuckin ass off in the fuckin streets, Harry spun away and started yanking his coat and sweater off and tossed them on the couch then sat at the table and unwrapped the bundle of stuff. Marion watched for a few seconds, then blinked her eyes and started walking toward him, then stopped as he got up, and went back to the bathroom. Think you can get a hit? She nodded and started to tie up, then Harry shook his head, Krist, are you fucked up, then tied her up and rubbed her arm a few times and a couple of good veins came up, There. He dumped the stuff in the cooker and they both got off. Marion had no idea how frozenly stiff her face and body had been until the dope warmed it and they started to relax. They dropped their works in the glass of water and sat back on the tub for a moment, Harry letting the dope shove out the memory of the frigid streets, and Marion feeling the sense of security coming back that she longed for. She leaned against Harry, I dont know what happened, its just that its getting worse and worse, I dont know whats happening, but I feel like Im going out of my mind. Yeah, I know. Its a bitch. What can I tellya, itll break sooner or later. It cant stay like this forever. She stared ahead and nodded, Its just that I cant stand being like this. But youre not that sick. Im not shootin any more stuff than you and— Its different for you. Marion shook her head, I ... I ... I dont know why it is but it is. I cant stand not having enough in the house, I just cant, her voice softer, quietly hysterical, Harry rubbing the back of his neck. She moved, still staring straight ahead, and got up, Comeon. Harry stashed the stuff then they sat at the table drinking soda. How much do we have? Enough for a couple of days. Cant we just keep it all? Jesus Marion, we've been through this routine a dozen fuckin times. We have to off some stuff. That is how we get the bread for more. Marion nodded, the panic gone, but the concern still strong. She alternated looking at her glass and at Harry, her expression flat, I understand Harry. I just... I just. . . She shrugged and stared at him for a few moments, then lowered her eyes and looked at her glass. Theres a panic and thats the way it is now. What can I tell you. Marion looked at him again and nodded, blinked her eyes a few times and continued to look as understandingly and reassuringly as possible. She studied her cigarette for a moment then looked at her glass as she spoke to Harry, You sure this guy wont sell any? What guy? The guy you said had some but wouldnt sell. Oh the guy thats hooked on broads. Marion nodded still looking at her glass, raising her eyes slightly from time to time. Positive. Why, you have something in mind? Marion continued to look at her cup and toy with her cigarette, I'd like to have more than just a days stuff Harry, I cant make it like this. . . . Suppose what he has doesnt last long???? Harry shrugged, trying to ignore the action in his gut, but even the dope wouldnt allow him to ignore it, but it did allow him to believe whatever he had to believe. He wanted to say something, but couldnt find the means to put the words together even if he could find the words. He just continued to go along with what was happening, go with the flow as Marion would say. With whats happening he could be no where anytime too. Marion rubbed her cigarette around in the ashtray, cleaning off the bottom with her butt and pushing the ashes to the side, Maybe we should look into it right away. Harry took another drag on his cigarette and shrugged, If you want to. She continued with the butt in the ashtray, nodded her head and murmured. Yes. A little voice inside Harry said, Thank krist.

  Sara went passively to her first shock treatment. She had no idea where she was going, having only a vague idea where she was. There were a few times during the day when she seemed to be on the verge of orienting herself and experiencing a degree of mental and emotional clarity, but then she was given another dose of Thorazine and the cloud of numbness once again descended and enshrouded her, and her limbs became heavy and an unbearable burden, and the pit of her stomach burned and ached with exhaustion, and her tongue was so thick and dry it stuck to the roof of her mouth, and attempting to speak was an unbearably painful ordeal, and she would strain to try to formulate words, but she couldnt summon the energy necessary to unglue and move her tongue; and her eyes felt like two huge thumbs were pressing down on them and she had to lift her head back to see, and then it was as if she was looking through a veil that made everything hazy, and so she would just lie in bed numbed, confused, nodding off to sleep . . . then waking periodically and sleeping again . . . constantly feeling sick and, from time to time, struggling to sit up, but unable to, and so they would lift her up and put some food in her mouth and it would dribble out of the corners because she just couldnt swallow, and she would try to tell them to stop, to let her do it, but she couldnt speak because of drug induced inertia, and so her words came out groans and they grabbed her and forced the food down her throat, holding her nose and keeping her mouth closed, forcing her to swallow, Saras eyes being forced open with terror, mute terror, while inside her heart beat thunderously in her ears and thudded against her chest, and she was unable to even mutter a prayer for help and the more she tried to tell them not to do that the more annoyed they became and they shoved the food in her mouth, cutting the corners of her mouth and her gums, themslamming their hands over her mouth and nose and Sara would feel, again and again, like she was suffocating and she tried to swallow as fast as possible but her system just didnt seem to have the energy it needed to swallow, and she fought to get the food down so she could breathe, and the harder she fought the harder they pressed against her, and held her down in the bed until they finally left in disgust, and Sara tried to curl up in a little ball and disappear, and after a couple of days she cringed in abject terror when she heard the food truck approaching.

  Dr. Reynolds frowned at her chart as he stood by her bed. You are not cooperating Mrs. Goldfarb. His voice was shrill
and his tone threatening, and Sara tried to lift an arm, to raise herself, to tell him, to tell the doctor how she couldnt move, how she couldnt talk, how she felt like maybe she was dying and she was frightened, and she looked at him with eyes that pleaded and begged, her mouth opening, but only inarticulate noises coming out, and he continued to stare at her, You may think that this type of behavior will get you special treatment, but we do not have the time to cater to individuals. He snapped the chart closed and turned sharply and walked away. When he handed the chart to the nurse he told her to schedule Sara for shock treatment the following morning. Sara went passively. She was hoping, in her semi-comatose state, that they were taking her to something better, maybe that nice young doctor that talked to her and got her a glass of tea. Maybe she would see him and he would make it better. She was strapped in the wheelchair and her head kept falling forward as she was pushed along corridors, down in an elevator, along more corridors, from time to time attaining a glimmer of consciousness and remembering that she hadnt had any breakfast that morning and feeling happy that she did not have to go through the ordeal of eating that morning which gave her enough energy to think there might be some hope, that maybe she was going to see that nice young doctor and her head would fall forward again and then she was being lifted on a table and her eyes blinked open but she couldnt recognize anything and she started to tremble and shake with fear as faces passed by her, blurred, and there were lights, and she didnt know where she was but something told her she should not be there, a strong feeling fought through the drugs telling her it was a matter of life and death that she get out of that room and away from those people whose faces seemed to be unformed or hidden behind something and she tried to resist, but was unable to and strong hands stretched her out on the table and strapped her down and she could feel her throat start to close and her heart threaten to explode and something was attached to her head and something jammed between her teeth and people were talking and laughing, but the voices were a blur and it seemed like there were many faces leaning over her and she could feel her eyes opening wider as they looked, peered, and she could hear laughter and then the faces seemed to recede and drift away in a haze and suddenly fire shot through her body and her eyes felt like they were going to burst from their sockets as her body burned then stiffened and felt like it would snap apart and pain shot through her head and stabbed her ears and temples and her body kept jerking and bouncing as the flames seared every cell of her body and her bones felt like they were being twisted and crushed between huge pincers as more and more electricity was forced through her body and her burning body arched and slammed itself down on the table and Sara could feel her bones snapping and smell the burning of her own flesh as barbed hooks were thrust into her eyes yanking them out of their sockets and all she could do was endure and feel the pain and smell the burning flesh unable to yell, to plead, to pray, to make a sound or even die, but stay locked in the torturous pain as her head screamed AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH-HHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhh...