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Sara had to go to the store. For days she had to go, but couldnt move. Couldnt get out of the house. She didnt get the sun. If there was a sun. Maybe its cloudy outside too. Inside its like night. Maybe worse. Night, you put on the light and its cheerful. Now its gray. Gray. She had to get to the store. For days she had to go. If Ada would come. Maybe then? Maybe she should call? Ada would take her. She/d ask her why she cant go? What could she say? She didnt know. Its just the store. Yes. Just the store. But she couldnt go. She knew it was wrong not to go. Something bad. She could feel inside it was bad. Crawly. How could— LOOK OUT!!!! no no no no ahhhh. hh—How could she tell her? Whats to say? Whats to say???? She had to go. For days now. No toilet paper. No sugar. Now its all gone. Now she had to go. She had to get out. Just get up and walk across the room. That’s all. Up and out the door. Little red riding hood. Ipsy pip—LOOK OUT! Nothing. Nowhere. Nothing. She was going. The refrigerator was changing shape. It was nearer. With a huge mouth. Closer… She got up. Her pocketbook. Where? Where? She found it. She clutched it with both hands. She was moving toward the door. The refrigerator moved. Closer. Out of shape. Almost all mouth. Her gold shoes clicked on the kitchen floor. The red dress was wrinkled. She yanked at the door. The refrigerator got closer. The television was bigger. The screen got bigger and bigger. She yanked at the knob. People came out of the set. The door opened. She banged it behind her. She wobbled on her gold shoes. The high heels clicked on the tile. The breeze was a little cool. It was gray here too. Nobody by the house. She walked down the street. Swaying. Wavering. Holding on to the wall. She reached the corner. Stopped. The traffic. Traffic! TRAFFIC!!!! Cars. Trucks. Buses. People. Noise. Movements. Whirls. She was dizzy. She clung to the light post. Desperately. She couldnt move. The light turned green. She clung. Knuckles white. The light continued to click from green to yellow. To red. To green. Over and over. Many times. Many, many times. The people passed. Some looked. Shrugged. Continued. Sara clung. She looked across the street. Up and down. Waiting for the light. Safe to cross. She tried. She stopped looking. Hid face in pole. Hung on. Hung on. The noises blurred. Flashes of light stabbed her closed lids. She hung on. The pole was cold. She could feel the clicking in the pole. She hung on… So whats happening? Ada and Rae looked at her. Youre holding up the pole? Sara slowly moved her head. She looked at them. Sara, youre not looking so good. Sara just stared at them. They looked at each other for a moment, then each grabbed an arm and helped Sara to Adas apartment. Sara trembled slightly and they gave her a glass tea and Sara sat mutely sad gripping her glass with both hands, occasionally lowering her face to it and sipping the tea as she stared dully in front of her. I thought you were just a antsy pants, but now Im wondering. Ada and Rae smiled and chuckled and Sara started to respond, To just be antsy pantsy would be a pleasure. Maybe you got already a virus. Why dont you go to see your doctor? He can give you a anti something. My appointment isnt for two days. For two days? Whats the matter, you get sick by appointment? Whats he going to say? stay well now and get sick in two days? They all chuckled and Sara frowned inwardly because she hadnt thought of going to the doctor. She puzzled it for a second, then let it go away to some place and listened to the chuckles, felt herself chuckling, and sipped the tea until the glass was empty.
The waiting room was filled like always and Ada and Rae talked as Sara just sat. When she got to see the doctor she told him she wasnt feeling so good. And just what seems to be the problem? Your weight seems to be doing very well, and he smiled at her. The weight is fine. Im not so good. The television people are coming out and—LOOK OUT! and Sara whirled around and looked behind her, around her, under the chair, then at and around the doctor. He kept his teeth hanging out in a smile. Something wrong? Things are all fu
Sara looked at it. How you say this? Valium. Valleyum? It sounds more like a disease. The girl chuckled, See you in one week. And take one as soon as you get home. Sara nodded and left the office. They all went back to Adas and had a glass tea with a prune danish. Sara took a small piece of the danish, but couldnt eat it. Maybe tomorrow. Now… and she shrugged and sipped her tea. She sat with Rae and Ada, waiting for the pill to do something, but not knowing what she was waiting for. But she somehow sensed that she would soon feel better.
When she got back to her apartment the refrigerator and television set were where they should be and were acting properly. She turned on the television and put the bottle of pills on the table next to the others then noticed herself as she passed a mirror. She had on the red dress. It was wrinkled. It had already some stains. She blinked her eyes for a moment and stared at her reflection. She vaguely remembered trying on the dress, like every morning, but she never wore it out before. Only once, at her Harrys bar mitzvah. She shook her head and puzzled over it for a moment, then shrugged and smiled and changed her clothes before going back to the kitchen and taking another “one of the new pills then sitting in her viewing seat. She felt calm inside. Sort of nice. Her eyes felt a little bit heavy. Not much. Just relaxed. The chair seemed softer. She sunk down. The shows were nice. The people behaved. She sipped a glass of tea. She reached over to the table next to her chair, but it was empty. Nothing on it. Then she realized she was rubbing her fingertips on the table and she looked at it, her fingers, shrugged and then went back to looking at the show, whatever it was. Whatever it was it was nice. They all seemed nice. They stayed on their side of the screen.
Tyrone tried to be as cool as possible, but the only way to find out where the good dope was at was to get out there where it was, and when youre there theres always heat. Everybody and his brother was willing to take his money and promise him theyd be back with some boss shit; or they could get weight that was dynamite; or they could set up a meet… Everybody had a story. Tyrone smiled and chuckled and told the dudes to go to Jersey to peddle that boolshit. He hung tough and loose for a few hours, staying away from doorways, hallways and alleys, and finally ran into a cat he knew and copped a couple of bundles. He was making his way down the street to get a cab when he was stopped by a couple of narcs. They frisked him, felt the dope in his pocket but didnt take it out. They took out his money and counted it, Twenty bucks. Thats a lot of money to be carryin around this time of night. They chuckled and Tyrone remained silent. He had over a hundred dollars left but said nothing. They shoved him in their car and one of them got in the back with him. Tyrone knew what he was supposed to do and he did it as quickly and smoothly as possible. He eased the dope out of his pocket and pushed it down the side of the seat. When they got to the station house they asked him if he was ready and he nodded. When they got inside Tyrone asked them what the charge was and they smiled and told him, Consorting. Tyrone nodded and waited to start the drag ass process of being booked. The holding tank was filled mostly with dope fiends, and winos. When he got his phone call he called Harry, but he was still out so he told Marion what had happened and where he was and to have Harry bail him out. He also asked her to give Alice a call before he was hustled off the phone. A short time later an old time dope fiend, who looked like he was a hundred and four, was thrown in the tank and made himself at home as if he had been born and raised in jail. He had needle tracks on the side of his neck where he had been shooting heroin into his vein. Thats why he always wore a tie. It was old and ratty and looked like shit but it served its purpose. Beautiful. Just go into a public toilet, cook up your shit, pull the tie tight and hit the sonofabitch. Cant miss it. Big as a fuckin rope. He also wore a jacket with padded shoulders that looked like a Salvation Army reject, but that too was part of his equipment. Every time he got off he shot a little dope into the pad of his left shoulder. You can always dig up a set of works in jail and so he would take some of the padding out, cook it up, and have one last fix before going wherever he was going. And I/ll still have a little somethin waitin for me when I get out. Probly get a six month bit on the Island. He bummed a cigarette from a young guy nearby and nodded to him as he lit it. Shit, I know fuckin Rikers inside an out. Been there so many fuckin times I own stock in it. The others laughed and Tyrone sat down on the floor a few feet away from the old guy and listened, along with most of the others in the cell, to the old guy tell stories about Raymond Street, the old Tombs, Rikers, all the joints upstate and especially Danamora which is really a fuckin Siberia. I been in some fuckin hellholes, but that fuckin place is the asshole of the world. Even worse than that fuckin chain gang in Georgia. Did three months on the mutha £ucka too. For a couple of hours he continued about the times he made it to Fort Worth and K Y, but only made that fuckin Lexington once. Got out and started to make it back to the Apple with this dude and he wanted to stop off in fuckin Cleveland to see some relatives, the fuckin asshole. We cop for some paregoric an we/re cookin it down and cold shakin it and get off a little taste and the next thing you know the fuckin man is breakin down the door of the hotel and we/re back in the fuckin slammer and we get two and a half to five for fuckin traces. Aint that some shit? That asshole started givin them some shit—he didn’t know how to do time—an he did the whole fuckin nickel. I did a deuce and I aint never been near that fuckin Ohio since. Aint never goin to either. The others were laughing and chuckling, Tyrone with them. You know something, that fuckin Ohio they got the fuckin death penalty for dope. But I hooked up with a young guy when I gets back here—jesus he was a good tief. He could steal ya blind and ya wouldnt even seeim, everybody joining in the laughter. The circle of guys drew closer to the old guy and there was a feeling of camaraderie among them as they listened to the man of years, of scraggly dead hair, gray skin and a few broken and brown teeth tell of the golden days o£ the past when you could stay high forever on a three dollar cap. Shit, they used to have some fuckin stuff that was so fuckin good it got ya high while it was still in the fuckin cooker, hahaha, and when ya got off it tightened ya ass hole right up man. Shit, you couldnt even tink a takin a shit. Ya couldnt even remember what it was like. Ya tought the shitter was fa washin ya feet, the others laughing loudly, all the energy of their frustration and fear going into their laughter. Before the war the fuckin Germans was sending stuff over here that was pure stuff—you tink ya know what pure stuff is? — an ya could get a pound of pure for fuckin nothin practically, but thats all we had was nothin, everybody laughing louder. I guess the fuckin Germans figured theyd turn on the whole fuckin country an win the fuckin war like that, eh? But nobody gave much of a shit then. Ya could cop all the fuckin p.g. ya wanted an all kinds a shit had opium in it. Laudum. Great shit. If ya sick. Just gulp down a fuckin bottle a paregoric and dump some goof balls then chew some guinea bread real quick. Best way ta keep it down. In those days it was practically legal ta have pot. It used ta be growin in empty lots—there was lots of empty lots then, not like now. All these fuckin empty lots all over the fuckin city—lots a times no body even knew what it was. Can ya imagine what would happen now if ya had a whole fuckin lot full of fuckin pot? The fuckin animals would break ya fuckin head ta get it, eh? everybody laughing and straining to hear more. They used ta burnem every now an then, but they had to notify the people— somethin about fire laws—I dont know. So they put notices in the paper—I aint shittin, right in the fuckin paper—that such an such a lot is go