Harry and Marion were getting off twice a day, sometimes more, and inbetween were smoking a lot of pot and dropping an occasional pill. They looked at Marions sketches of the coffee house they were going to open, but with diminishing frequency and enthusiasm. Somehow there just didnt seem to be time for it though they spent a lot of time just lying around and not doing much of anything in particular and making vague plans for the future and enjoying the feeling that everything would always be alright, just like it was now. When Harry resigned from the business, Marion insisted they would not live in the suburbs, and they would not live in a house with a white picket fence, and they would not barbecue on Sundays, and they would not — Hey, wait a second, eh? What are we going to do? and he grabbed her by a boob and put his other arm around her and kissed her on the throat and she pushed him away and giggled and hunched her shoulders to cover her neck, Dont, dont, Im ticklish. Okay, so we/re not going to tickle you either. So what else? We/re not going to own a Cadillac, and we/re not going to visit my family at Passover, as a matter of fact we are not going to have a Passover or even have a box of matzoh in the house. Harry kept nodding his head and rolling his eyes as she counted off another will not, But we will have a nice place in the west side of the Village, and we will stop in for an occasional drink in a neighborhood bar, and we will shop on Bleecker Street and have lots of nice cheese, especially provolone, hanging in the kitchen, and anything else we want. Harry raised his eyebrows, O, anything else we want? Dont worry about it Harry, we/ll be able to have it. He smiled and pulled her close to him, I have it now, and he kissed her and slowly moved the palm of his hand over her ass, you have everything I want. Marion put her arms around his neck, O Harry, I love you. You make me feel like a person, like Im me and Im beautiful. You are beautiful. Youre the most beautiful woman in the world. Youre my dream.
As usual, Sara started her day on Monday with her purple pill and a pot of coffee, but somehow it wasnt doing what she was used to it doing. The weight was still coming off and the red dress was zipping up without too much stuffing, but there was something missing, even after a pot of coffee. She didnt feel the same like she did when she first started taking the pills. It was like they took something out of them. Maybe they made a mistake and gave her the wrong pills? Maybe she should get stronger ones? She called the doctors office and talked with the nurse and asked two, three, how many times, if she was sure she didnt give her the wrong pills? No Mrs. Goldfarb, Im absolutely certain. But maybe you gave me a smaller one the last time. That isnt possible Mrs. Goldfarb. You see they are all the same potency. The change is in the color. All the purple are the same strength, all the red, etc. But something isnt the same. Youre just becoming adjusted to them. At first you may get a strong reaction, but after a while that wears off and you just dont feel like eating. Its nothing to worry about Mrs. Goldfarb. You mean Im—I have to hang up, my other phone is ringing. Sara looked at the phone for a second, So click. Maybe shes right. Im not eating—zophtic, zophtic — and the dress is going on. She sighed, Im thinking thin. She unthinkingly made another pot of coffee while looking at her jar of tea, and drank it as she puttered around the house before putting on a sweater and going out to get some sun with the ladies. It was a little chilly in the morning now, and evenings, but they still sat and in the afternoon it was warmer. She put her chair in her spot for a while and then got up, but without her usual buoyancy and smile. Sit, sit. Why you have to be all the time like a yo yo. I/ll sit. I feel a little jumpy today. Today youre feeling jumpy? Yesterday you were sitting quiet and calm? Sara, for weeks youre like a young girl thinking about Robert Redford, the ladies laughing and chuckling. You should relax. Soon youll be on the television and you shouldnt be like a jitterbug, chuckling and laughter. Im waiting, Im waiting. I think it will come today and then I can relax when I know what show and maybe theyll tell me when. Sara shrugged, Who knows. The red dress fits now, Sara still pacing around in a small circle, then walking out to the curb, looking up and down the street but not paying attention to what she was seeing, then going back to the ladies, sitting for a moment, then up again and pacing in ever widening circles, but my hair needs a touch up. So tomorrow we/ll fix it up like new and youll be gorgeous just like Rita Hayworth. Sara posed with a hand on her hip, Zophtic, the ladies laughing. Sara looked up and down the street again, Todays the day. I know, todays the day.
It wasnt yet three oclock and Sara was taking her orange evening pill and following it with a cup of coffee. She had watched the mailman walk up the street and he just nodded his head and went into the building. Sara followed, watched him put the mail in the boxes, stared at the emptiness of hers for many seconds before he left, then went into her apartment. She automatically made a pot of coffee then took her dinner time pill and sat at the kitchen table watching the new television her son Harry gave her. From time to time she looked at the clock. A little before three she was thinking it was almost dinner time. She took the orange pill and drank some more coffee. She made another pot. She sat. She thought. About the television. The show. About how she felt. Something was wrong. Her jaw hurt. Her mouth felt funny. She couldnt figure. It tasted like old socks. Dry. Sickening. Her stomach. O, her stomach. Such a mess. Like theres something moving. Like theres a voice in there saying look out, LOOK OUT!!!! Theyll get you. She looked over her shoulder again. Nobody. Nothing. LOOK OUT! Who’s getting? Whats to get? The voice kept rumbling in her stomach. Before when it started she took more coffee or another pill and it went away, now its just there. All the time. And that nasty coating in her mouth, like old paste, it used to go away, or something. It didnt bother her. Now, ech. And all the time the trembles in the arms and legs. Everywhere. Little things under the skin. If she knew what show it would go away. Thats all she needed. To know. She finished her coffee and waited, trying to think those good feelings back into her body, her head… but nothing. Paste and old socks in the mouth. Squirming under the skin. The voice in the stomach. LOOK OUT! She stared at the television, enjoying the show, and all of a sudden, LOOK OUT! Another cup of coffee and she felt worse. Her teeth felt like theyre going to snap. She called the McDick Corp., asking for Lyle Russel. Who? Lyle Russel. Im sorry, but I dont have his name listed on my directory. What was it in reference to? The television. What television? I dont know. I want to find out. Just a moment please. The operator took another call and Sara listened carefully to the silence. What show did you say that was? I dont know dolly.