Requiem for a Dream

by Hubert Selby

  Marion called Big Tim and went to see him again. Harry was out when she called and was watching TV when she got back. Harry didnt ask where she had been and she said nothing. He had copped a bundle, offd some for a lot of bread, and was holding out dope and bread from her. She stashed her two bags with the others and felt a warm glow as she looked at them and couldnt wait until she was alone so she could take them out and hold them and caress them. She gave Harry the other eight bags, then took one of them and got off. She joined him on the couch, Howd it go tonight? Pretty good. Lucked out. Ran into something almost right away. Good. She pulled her legs up on the couch. Thats really good stuff, isnt it? Yeah. Dont find that out on the streets. Lets not sell that, alright Harry? Just the other. You dont see me passing it out, do you? No, but I… you know what I mean. Yeah. Dont sweat it. Im not going to part with the good shit. Marion stared at the television for a few minutes, not knowing what she was looking at, not caring, not trying, just biding time and waiting for the words… Harry? Yeah? Do we have to tell Tyrone about these bags? He looked at her, a voice inside saying, fuck no. Me and him are tight. He set the whole thing up. I know, I know, Marion looked up into Harrys eyes, but Im the one who went up there. Harry could feel the burning flush seeping out from his inner being somewhere and was hoping to krist he didnt turn red. He nodded his head, Okay. I guess what he dont know wont killim.

  Tyrone was stretched out on the couch, alone, watching television. Alice had split, gone back to her family in some jerk town in Georgia. Couldnt take the cold or the heat. She was a fine fox, but Tyrone was happy and relieved not to have another vein to feed. She sure didnt dig bein sick. Like to scare her to death. Sheeit, ah sure doan dig it. Dont dig the hassles either. But it aint so bad. Las night we cop right away and get back some heavy braid. Things going to be better soon enough. There doan seem to be too much hassle now. Tyrone C. Love watched the television for a while, wondering, anticipating, chuckling, using the images and sounds from the set, along with the heroin in his system, to quiet a little gnawing of questioning confusion that seemed to be scratching him from time to time. He/d been spending many hours of each day and night scufflin and hustlin in those streets an man its a cold mutha fuckin bitch out there an this panics a bitch jim, a mutha fuckin bitch. Yeah… a bitch baby, an hes all caught up in the mutha. Ol Ty was caught up in it for so long it didnt seem so bad anymore. It seemed less and less like a hassle. But what the fuck, a habit aint no real hassle. A habit you do in your sleep. You caint think about it. You jus do it. An a habit create its own habits. And he lay on his couch, staring at the set, getting his kicks, and when he wondered why he was happy to be alone, he just stopped wondering and got back in the spoon and turned the channel. These things sort of itched Tyrone, but he soothed them away from his consciousness with his habit and the tube and jus didnt worry about not havin the energy—the desire—to get himself another bitch. No, he jus take care of his own self till things gets a little cooler. Right now he/ll jus hang tough and take care of the little jones he had goin. Later for the bitches man. Yeah, mah names Tyrone C. Love and ah loves nobody but Tyrone C., an ahm goin to take good care o you baby.

  Sara was tied in her wheelchair each morning and she sat mutely and docilely watching the people coming, going, giving medication, caring for patients, making beds, mopping floors, going about their daily and various chores, her mind and eyes moist with tears. Voices and noises mingled and clanged through the ward unnoticed by Sara. She sat mutely. They continued to pass her by as she waited… waited for someone to come to her, to talk to her… to help her. They did come to her. They came to prepare her for another shock treatment. Sara wept.

  Harry and Tyrone were holding out a little more on each other each day. If one guy somehow got caught short and his nose and eyes were running and his body shivering as they scuffled and hustled the street trying to cop, and asked the other one to give him a taste, the guy swore up and down he had nothing, that he had just done in his cottons, and he would start shaking, trying to fake his friend out.

  They roamed the streets in the snow, the sleet, fighting the freezing winds, sometimes hustling from one spot to another all night, always just missing the connection, and other times they were able to cop within a couple of hours. Everywhere they went there were thousands of sick junkies trying to cop or get cop money, and when they did get their hands on some shit they split to get off, but they didn’t always make it and dying and dead bodies littered the hallways and debris of abandoned buildings. Like the others, Harry and Tyrone ignored the bodies and remained huddled in their jackets and their needs, saying nothing to each other, saving their energies to find someone who was holding. Then they would get off and cut the bags as much as possible and off as much as they could and start the search all over again.

  When Marion was home alone, she would take out her stash and look at the bags, enjoying the feeling of power and security she felt. She was seeing Big Tim a couple of times a week. Now she told Harry she was only getting six bags, that was why she was going so often. Harry didnt even bother wondering if he believed her or not, he just took three of the bags, not telling Tyrone about it, and whenever he copped he always held back a few bags on Marion, and when the pangs of conscience started to disturb him they were readily dissolved by the heroin.

  Occasionally Marion would notice her sketch pads and pencils and the memory of the plans for the coffee house and some other vague memories started to work their way to her consciousness, but she just pushed them aside and stared at the tube, thinking about her stash. A few times the pangs of remorse would start to unnerve her as she stared at a scene of sunny Italy in a Cinzano ad, but she just reminded herself that she had been, and a bag of good stuff was a hell of a lot better than a mob of garlic smelling italians.

  Harry and Tyrone were standing in the wet snow, freezin their asses off, waiting for the connection, again, and listening to the other dudes talk about how all the big time connections were in Florida sittin on their mutha fuckin asses in the sun while they were up here ass deep in the mutha fuckin snow. Yeah, an those mutha fuckas sitting on all that dope too jus to git the fuckin price up jim and thats the onlyest reason they doin it. Sheeit, they be a bunch a stoned mutha fuckas man, ah mean they be some stoooooned pricks jim. Harry and Tyrone had heard the same old bullshit a million times just like the rest of them, but they never tired of listening and nodding their heads, just like everyone else, cursing the bastards for starting the panic just so they could make more money when they were fuckin millionaires a dozen fuckin times over already. The intensity of their anger not only helped pass the time, but helped create a little much needed inner warmth. By the time they finally did cop that night they were numb with the cold and had a difficult time walking. Harry stopped off at Tyrones to get off before continuing to Marions. They sat around smoking and relaxing when Harry started thinking about those pricks who were sittin in the sun and wondered what would happen if someone went down there to cop. Tyrone looked at him with droopy eyes, What you talkin about? Whatta my talking about? just what I said. Everybodys up here scufflin just to stay alive and still gettin ripped off or knocked off, and nobodys thought about goin right to the fuckin source man. What the fuck you talkin about? goin up to the mutha fuckin room clerk at some hotel an askin for a connection? Sheeit. Comeon Ty, get with, eh? You tellin me you cant nose out some dope when its around? Thas here man. The Apples mah neighborhood. What the fuck ah know about Miami? Them mutha fuckin eyetzlians aint sitting aroun jus waitin for me to show up jim. I/ll take care of that. I know how those bastards operate. Thats no sweat. Tyrone looked at him for a few seconds, Thas a long ass walk jim. Not if youre drivin. Look man, its coleran hell and those streets are hotteran a bitch. Guys are gettin knocked off like theyre giving blue chip stamps with every dead dope fiend. Man, we got nothing to lose, Harrys enthusiasm increasing the more he talked about it. Tyrone was scratching his head, If its such a good idea then why aint somebody else thought of it? Beca
use theyre assholes. Harry was sitting on the edge of his chair, his face glazed with sweat. And thats just it, nobody else has thought of it. Its wide open. Tyrone continued scratching and nodding, an if we can get there before anyone else we can name our own price and sit back an be cool and have those fools scufflin the streets for us. Tyrone continued scratching, Las summer was a ball jim, he suddenly frowned and tilted his head, seem like a thousan years since las summer. Sheeit. Itll be back like that after we get some weight. Why doan we fly down there? We be there an back in one mutha fuckin day. Harry was shaking his head, No man. No fuckin good. We/ll need a fuckin short when we get there, right? Tyrone nodded. An we can get there in a day easy. We got enough shit to last an we can get some uppers from Marion. No problem. Tyrone had been scratching and looking up at the ceiling. Gogit could probably get us a short easy enough we promise him some dynamite scag. That mutha fucka can dig up anythin, even the daid. Harry laughed and continued nodding energetically, their desperation making everything seem so simple, An its warm in Florida man.

  Harry told Marion that they had heard where there was some dynamite shit and asked her for some money. The more we get the better off we are. Where you getting it? Harry shrugged, Cant really say, but its out of state. Be a few days or so, you know. Marion thought for a few seconds, I dont know Harry, Im just about out of the rent money now. Dont sweat it. In a couple a days we/ll have a sack full a shit and plenty of bread. Marion thought for another moment, knowing she could spare a hundred dollars without any trouble and thinking it would be great to have even more dope than she had. And too, she would be completely free for a few days and she could keep all the stuff she got from Tim, and if she saw him every day she would have a nice taste stashed. Okay, Harry, I can give you a hundred dollars, but I have to have it back before the end of the month, I need it for my rent. Harry dismissed her concern with a wave of the hand, We/re gonta be doing some driving so youd better lay some of those uppers on me. We want to make this a fast trip.

  Marion called Big Tim after Harry left and in a short time she was on her way downtown, thinking of how many bags she would have by the time Harry got back, feeling independent of Harry.

  Gogit had no trouble getting them a car. It wasn’t much of a car, but it ran. A cousin was doing some time on Rikers and he conned his aunt out of the car, telling her he would take care of it so the tires wouldnt rot, and the battery get run down, or the kids strip it to the frame some night.

  Harry and Tyrone got their shit together and got off just before leaving, about nine oclock at night. They figured they would miss all the heavy traffic then and with the uppers they could drive through the night without any trouble and get into Miami at a good time. Harry was having more and more trouble finding a vein, having to go into his fingers, but they were proving to be no good too, and he sure as krist didnt want to blow a fix now. A bag of shit was too precious these days. So, from time to time, he would be forced to go back into a spot in his arm that had been festering occasionally and was now a hole. He always made up his mind he would stay away from it, but when he was getting off he just couldnt go through the hassle of trying to find another spot so sooner or later he would just drop the needle in the hole in his arm and squeeze the shit in. Tyrone would shake his head, Thats a nasty mutha fucka jim, you should learn to get some ropes like me. Thas the trouble with you honkys, you too sof. Thats okay man, just as long as the shit gets where its goin… an just as long as we get where we/re goin.

  It was cold and windy when they left, but dry. Ah sure hope this mutha fuckin heater works jim. Harry was driving, Tyrone staring at the heater controls, turning the heater on every few seconds, then turning it off as cold air whirled around his feet. They were almost on the Jersey Turnpike before the air from the heater was warm, Sheeit, there it goes. I guess this aint goin to be such a bad trip.

  The radio wasnt too bad and so for the first few hours they finger popped, dug the sounds, and drove as rapidly as possible along the turnpike, keeping their eyes open for the cops, not wanting to be stopped for anything. The night was soothing and comforting. And it felt still. The lights from the occasional car passing made them feel warm and secure in their well heated car. The lights from distant houses or nearby power towers and factories twinkled in the cold air, but their attention was on the road and the distance between them and Miami. From time to time Harry would become aware of the ache in his arm, then straighten it slowly and adjust it on the arm rest. Every now and then Tyrone would check the odometer and announce how much closer they were to Miami and all that warm sun and fine shit. Yeah man, an when we get back with all that stuff we/re gonta be cool. Right on baby. We/re not gonta let anybody know we got weight, we/re just gonta cut that stuff and slip out a few bundles a night to those dudes like we just copped it ourselves. You damn right jim. Ah dont want all those runny nosed dope fiens bangin down mah door. Tyrone rubbed his head and looked out the window at the snow and frozen slush that was gray and spotted with black, the lights picking out a rare spot of white where the surface snow had been ripped away. How much you figure we get? I dont know man, maybe two pieces. You really think we get that much? the mutha fuckin price is gone crazy jim. Yeah, yeah, I know, but I figure a grans gotta get us two pieces even with this panic. We/re schleppin the stuff and takin all the heat. Thats gotta be worth somethin. Yeah, Tyrone was smiling and leaning back in his seat, an we be cool till this mutha fuckin panic and winter is gone jim. Maybe I/ll get me a sun lamp an jus lay back like you honkys, Tyrone let his teeth hang out in a wide grin. Harry glanced at him and started laughing, then snorting as he fought to control himself and keep his eye on the road. Hey baby, be cool, we got a long way to go.

  After driving for a few hours they stopped at a Howard Johnsons and bundled their clothes around them as they hustled from the car. They ordered soda and pie then went to the mens room. Harry very gently took his jacket off and rolled up his shirt sleeve. The hole in his arm was hurting so bad now that he wasnt laughing and talking about all the dope they would have soon. He and Tyrone looked at it for a moment and Tyrone shook his head, Thats lookin bad jim. Yeah, it sure as hell aint pretty. Harry shrugged, O well, fuck it, I/ll take care of it when we get back. Yeah, but you best not use that anymore. You best be getting off somewhere else. Yeah. They each went into a separate stall to get off and Harry tried to work up a usable vein in his right hand but no matter how hard he tried he couldnt get anything close to what he wanted so he just went back into the old reliable hole in his left arm rather than taking the chance of blowing a fix. It hurt like hell for a minute, but it was worth it, and soon it was just a dull ache again. They drank a few glasses of soda after eating their pie and grooved behind the dope and the waitress and giggled and scratched for a while, then dropped another dexie, got a couple of containers of coffee, and split and continued toward Miami and the connections. They were quiet for a while, listening to the music and feeling warm and secure with the dope and the future, each smiling inwardly thinking about the end of their problems and the panic, at least for them. Then the dexies loosened their tongues and they started nodding in time to the music, singing, finger poppin and rapping endlessly, Tyrone announcing how much closer they were to Miami, from time to time, and the connections.

  Harry was still driving when the sun started to come up. Damn, we been ridin all night an there still be snow on the mutha fuckin groun jim. How far south you got to go before they be no snow? Very far man. This panic and cold spell goes right down to Florida. They stopped for coffee and dropped a couple more uppers, then went to the mens room, one at a time, and got off, got a couple of containers of coffee and split. Tyrone got behind the wheel and Harry stretched out in his seat, trying to rest his arm and get the son of a bitch to stop hurting. It wasnt so bad now that he had just gotten off, but it still throbbed.