Hubert Selby - Requiem for a Dream

Harry and Tyrone wanted desperately to cop a piece but they only had seven hundred between them. They tried to think what they could hock or steal but they couldnt think of anything that would give them a few hundred bucks. Then Harry thought of Marions shrink. You mean Arnold? Yeah. I havent seen him in months. So what? Hes still callin, aint he? Yes, but I dont know. Look, tellim we/ll give it back toim in twentyfour hours. Thats all itll take ta get the bread back. Marion frowned and looked worried, upset. Harrys voice and expression were urgent, Look we get this and off some and we/re back in business. This probably means the panics over and therell be stuff on the streets again and we wont have ta scuffle and make that scene every fuckin day anymore. I/ll tellya honey, its a fuckin drag. I know Harry, I know. I dont like whats happening either. Then whats the problem? I dont know, I–Look, you can get him to part with a few hundred bucks. Whats that to him? Hes loaded for krists sake. There was a hint of pleading in Marions eyes and voice, I just wish there was some other way to get the money. Look, I dont care how we get it. If you got some other idea, great, but Im fuckin lost and we need that bread. Getting the money is not the problem Harry— Then whats the problem fa krists sake? Marion looked at him almost pleadingly, I just dont know what I/ll have to do to get it. What Marion said was obvious and inevitable, but Harrys need forced, and allowed, him to quickly sidestep the obvious before the truth registered enough to alter his desires and he shrugged the suggestion away, Dont sweat it. You can handleim. Marion looked at Harry for endless seconds, hoping something would suddenly, and happily, change the words and situation, a deus ex machina would emerge from the ceiling and the dilemma would be instantly solved. Either you get the money from the shrink or we dont get no stuff. Its that simple. Marion got her wish. The dilemma was solved. She nodded and called his office. At Marions request they met in a small, quiet restaurant that had a feeling of privacy and was dimly lighted. She got there fifteen minutes late to be certain she would not have to wait for him and feel conspicuous sitting alone. Her makeup covered her complexion, but the thin haggard look was obvious even in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Are you alright? Something wrong? No, no, Ive just had the flu forever it seems like. Just cant seem to shake it. It goes away for a few days and then its right back again. Have you been under stress? You know unresolved emotional tension can precipitate viral infection. Marion could feel her insides tensing and she struggled to control herself and forced a smile on her face, No, its nothing like that. Just been very busy. Getting a lot of work done lately. Well, thats wonderful, Im glad to hear that you have been productive. Marion did her best to keep the smile on her face as she toyed with her food and sipped at her wine, Arnold commenting from time to time at her lack of appetite, and surprised at the way she was neglecting her wine, Its one of your favorites. She kept the smile in front of her and nodded, I know, reaching over and touching his hand, but this flu, or whatever it is, just seems to have killed my taste buds and appetite. He smiled and touched her hand with his other hand, To be perfectly candid, I was rather surprised to hear from you. Is there something wrong? Marion fought back the urge to shove the candle in his face and did her best to broaden her smile, No, why do you ask? O, thats usually the case when someone calls whom you havent heard from for a while, and who has been turning down dinner and lunch invitations for a few months. Marion sipped the wine, then took another drink, No, everythings fine, but I do have a favor to ask. He leaned back a few inches and smiled knowingly. Marions gut was yelling, You smug sonofabitch, but she lowered her face slightly and looked at him through half opened eyes, I need to borrow three hundred dollars. May I ask why? Its personal, Marion trying to put as much warmth in her smile as possible, not caring what he thought just as long as he didnt bug her. He looked at her for a second, then shrugged. Thats no problem. Marion gave an inner sigh of relief. I/ll have to give you cash, you understand. She nodded, That will do just fine, and she smiled a smile of genuine warmth and sincerity and found herself eating a little food and enjoying the wine and being thankful that Harry had been able to cop some good dope so she wouldnt have to go through this feeling sick. She kept reminding herself that this was no different than ail the other times she had had dinner or lunch with Arnold. It was the same. It was the same. Tell me, does this have anything to do with this fellow youre living with? Marion had to fight the sudden heat of anger that inflamed her and kept the smile on her face, No. He smiled and leaned forward and touched her hand, Its not important. I was just curious. Whats he like? Marion allowed her body to relax and the dope to once more circulate through her system and fill her with its warmth and feeling of contentment. Hes very nice. Rather wonderful actually. Marion finished her wine and Arnold waited for the waiter to refill her glass before leaning forward slightly. Hes quite handsome and sensitive… poetic. You look and sound as if you love him. Marions face softened even more, I do. And he loves you? Yes. And he needs me. Arnold nodded and they smiled at each other. I can help him accomplish great things. We have lots of plans.

After dinner they went to the small apartment Arnold kept in the city. Marion sat in the very familiar surroundings trying to feel comfortable, trying not to feel threatened, but every time Arnold spoke she wanted to shout into his face but she just continued to stare and try to smile, trying desperately to remember how she had acted and what she had done and said all the other times she had been here with him, but nothing came to mind except the urge to scream in his face. She kept adjusting herself in the chair trying to find a familiar position, did she usually look at the bookcase when she was here or the painting over the couch? How did she hold her cigarette? It suddenly felt large and conspicuous and when she tapped the ashes into the ashtray she found herself wondering if she should have rolled the ash off instead. She sat up suddenly and stretched her neck and back, then quickly uncrossed her legs and pulled her skirt down then blinked her eyes and felt herself flush as she wondered if Arnold was appraising her behavior. She tried to talk herself into a feeling of familiar comfort, but failed. Everything continued to feel strange. She tried to scare away, or at least obscure, the feeling by telling herself it was all the same, all the same, the same as all the other times, but the feeling persisted. Arnolds voice continued over the music and she could feel her facial muscles responding, and could hear her voice answering his, but she somehow felt oddly detached from that, too, as she did from everything else. She seemed to be waiting for something, perhaps to have the phone ring and hear Harrys voice tell her to forget the money and come on home, I got some stuff, but Harry didnt know this number, or that she was here. He thought they were at a show or some such place. He had no idea she was here, waiting to go to bed with Arnold. He didnt know. If he did he wouldnt have— She tried, desper ately, to continue, but an inner voice was mocking her and the truth wormed its way through every inch of her being… she knew and Harry knew. They were in love, but they both knew she was there waiting to go to bed with Arnold…

Marion sat on the edge of the bed, her back to Arnold, agonizingly trying to orient herself. Her feeling of alienation increased—its all the same, its all the same—and she blinked as she glanced around, the sound of Arnolds voice droning in her head. She looked at the floor and knew she had to undress. The light from the bedside lamp was so dim she could barely see the wall, but it bothered her and she asked Arnold to turn it off. He frowned for a moment, Why do you suddenly want the light off? You never did before. She swallowed a scream and almost started crying. She tried to sound normal, whatever that was, but the annoyance in her voice was obvious, I just do. Please Arnold. He shrugged and turned off the light. She almost felt secure for a moment in the sudden darkness and she quickly undressed, conscious of each piece of clothing coming off her body, and felt her arms crisscross her chest as she quickly slipped between the sheets— its all the same, its all the same—they felt slimy.