They were really scuffling and barely making it from one day to the next, one hour to the next, and with each day they became more desperate. Many times they were ripped off for a hundred bucks here, a few hundred there, but that was all part of that world and all they could do was get more bread and scuffle and hustle until they got the dope they needed. Many times they could only get a couple of bags and they would shoot them up and continue to try and cop more so they could have enough for Marion and Alice, but sometimes it was a long time between fixes for them. After they got off Harry and Tyrone would affirm that they would take the next stuff back to the pad, even if it was only a couple of bags, so their old ladies could have a taste, but each time they got only two bags they shot them up immediately knowing it would be better for everyone involved if they got off and stayed up here where the action was so they could get some weight and then give the girls a real taste. They knew, and believed, that it was better to have nothing at all than to have less than enough and who knows what might come down while they were away from the scene. And when they got back to their pads the lies came out easily and believingly. From time to time they would think of the old man but as quickly as possible they would dismiss him from their minds knowing that they would never get like that, that they would do something about it before that would happen to them. And whenever they saw cats scufflin the streets trying to sell somebody elses glasses for a fix, or dipping into a toilet bowl to get the Water to cook up their stuff, they knew they would never stoop to shit like that. Shooting dope was one thing, but only a fuckin animal would do that. Yet somehow everything that was happening became progressively easier to ignore. They were walking with a few other cats to cop from a connection when some dude came out of a doorway and shoved a gun against the connections head and blew half his fuckin head off and grabbed the dope and split muttering something about no mutha fucka goin burn him. The others dropped and scattered when it happened and when the guy split they looked at the connection for a brief moment, the blood pumping from the hole in his head, then scattered. The frozen body was found eight hours later.
Sara took another Valium before going to visit Ada. They sat drinking tea, talking, and watching and listening to the television. Maybe now the holidays are over youll hear what show youre going on. Theres more holidays coming. Theres always more coming. Right now we/re between. Maybe when I call later theyll have my card. Maybe they found it and are waiting for me to call. Ada shrugged, Could be, who knows. But you should eat. And you should sit still so I can get the roots. I dont like the way you look so thin. The red dress fits nice. It fits nice, it fits nice. But you dont fit nice. You should eat. Eh, you sound like my refrigerator. Ada looked at her with both her eyes, completely forgetting about the television, Now I sound like a refrigerator? What does a refrigerator sound like? besides rattling and groaning and sometimes just stopping like mine? Sara shrugged, They need a rest. Sara, youre alright? Of course. Why shouldnt I be? Why shouldnt you be? Because you dont look good. You look tired and— Im zophtic already. You should see the red dress and the gold shoes. Sara, theres something wrong. Im happy the dress is fitting, but Im worried. Your eyes dont look good dolly. Please, please, let me fix something for you… some soup. I just made fresh. Sara shook her head and waved her hand, No, no, no. Not now. Later. Sara got up, I have to call. I can feel they found my card. Ada looked sad as well as worried, You said that already a hundred times. I know, I know, but this time its for real… I can tell… I can feel it.
Harry and Tyrone had been scuffling the streets and alleys for many, many hours. The wind was strong and gusting from time to time with sleet and hail. Whenever they stood still for any length of time it became almost impossible to initiate movement again. Their feet were beyond numb and seemed to be frozen to the ground and the pain went from their soles up through their legs, almost shattering their knees. They tried to keep their backs to the wind, but it seemed to always be blowing in their faces no matter what direction they faced. They huddled as deeply as possible into their jackets, but they were still so cold they could barely talk, but only nodded toward each other. Their eyes and noses were constantly running and freezing, their faces stiff with a thin layer of ice. They looked at the glow from the campfires in the distance and wanted to just hang over one for a while, but they knew if they went near one they would be ripped off for everything they had, including their clothes, so they lived with their pain and the ice until they finally scored for a dozen bags and then, as rapidly as possible, split from the scene. They went to a public toilet in a subway station, locked the door and burned some toilet paper to warm themselves, then filled their droppers with water from the stained and cruddy toilet bowl and got off and just leaned against the walls of the cubicle feeling the heat of the dope crack the ice in their blood and bones, then wiped the water off their faces and smiled at each other and slapped each others hands, Thats some good shit man. Yeah baby, thas jus fine, jus fine. They left the toilet and went down the steps to the subway feeling warm and safe.
The word was out that in a couple of days there would be dope on the streets. Everybody nodded and uh uhed and went on their way trying to survive another day. But the story persisted that Harlan Jefferson had sent word to let go a couple a keys for the Christmas season, he being a good Baptist boy an not wantin anybody to be wantin during this glorious season. With the persistence of the story people started to believe, mostly because they wanted to and also because that sounded like Harlan Jefferson. There was a feeling of expectancy, a tension, in the air, a reason to hang tough and make it through till they cut loose with the shit. When the word came down that the price would be doubled and you had to cop for weight, then everybody was a believer. The word came through subway, bus and Hudson tubes that the next night, at ten, in a huge area of deserted and crumbling buildings, there would be shit but you have to cop at least half a piece and it was going for five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars for a half a fuckin piece was insane man, but what you gonna do? The man aint goin to lay no nickel bag on you, thas for damn sure. The cats in the streets were generating steam trying, desperately, to dig up the bread to cop, but how can you boose enough to be able to go for five hundred bucks? Hustlin, scufflin and boosin enough to cop a couple a bags a day was a bitch, but five hundred???? Sheeit, aint no fuckin way ah cain do that, but the race was on anyway. If they couldnt get the bread to cop from the man, maybe theyd get enough to cop from the guys who did, but the price of a bag was damn sure goin up jim.
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.