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1 hard boiled egg
1 cup black coffee (no sugar)
1 hard boiled egg
1/2 cup lettuce (no dressing)
1 cup black coffee (no sugar)
1 hard boiled egg
1 cup black coffee (no sugar)
NOTE: Drink at least 2 quarts, 64 oz., 8 8‑oz. glasses of water each day.
Sara continued to stare and chew. She looked very carefully between the lines having heard that that was where the real information was. Every night on the news that nice young man with the mustaches and glasses, always said, “Reading between the lines it becomes obvious that what was really said is…” She looked. She stared. She held the book at various angles, but all she could see was white paper. Then it finally penetrated. She slapped her forehead. Such a klutz . If this is the first week then there’s something different for the second week. Of course. They keep adding food. Thats what it is. She quickly turned the page and stared… it was the same. Exactly the same. Why would– Ach, so thats the difference. She looked very carefully at the luncheon menu for the second week and it was different. The egg was replaced with a 4 oz. meat patty, broiled. She quickly looked at the third week menu. The meat patty was replaced with 4 oz. of fish, broiled. She dropped the book on her lap and reached over for another chocolate. Any kind of chocolate. She stared at her set. How could that be? How could you eat only that? A mouse would starve already on that. She felt hollow inside. A profound sadness started to pervade her being. Her head started to hang forward and she had to raise her eyes in order to see the screen. She felt forlorn, utterly devastated and alone. Absolutely alone. Completely alone. Her throat was constricting and tears were rapidly building up behind her eyes. She kept blinking them back and then she noticed herself dressed in her red dress, her hair a gorgeous red, walking across the screen, so slim, so trim, so sexy. Such curves. How many years now since she had such curves? Who can remember? When she first met Seymour she had curves. She was firm then. Thats right, firm. Curvy. O how Seymour used to look. And touch. He used to tell me how all his friends envied him I was so beautiful. Zophtic . Thats what I was, zophtic . She watched herself stand with the announcer as she was introduced to the audience and she could hear the applause and the wolf whistles. She smiled at the audience. Maybe they want me for a regular TV show when they see how I look? Maybe a Ziegfield girl. She tilted her head this way and that as she watched herself on the screen, and her face widened in an appreciative smile. So whats the big deal about only eating a few eggs for awhile. I/ll drink lots of water and think thin and the weight will melt off… just like that. Eh, big deal. Who needs a danish? She finished the chocolates so they shouldnt go to waste, then went ipsy pipsy into the bedroom, eagerly looking forward to getting up in the morning and starting the diet that would melt pounds off like that, and lead her to a new life. She even sang a little “By Mir Bist Du Schon,” as she undressed. The sheets felt cool and refreshing, the darkness friendly. She sighed into her pillow and squirmed into a soothing position and watched the little pellets of light bounce off her closed eyelids until they finally disappeared and her mind was filled with Seymour and their many years of joy. She breathed and smiled a prayer for Seymour… and Harry. He was always such a good boy. How she used to love to make over him. She could still see those chubby little thighs and take bites out of them, Such joy, such joy, in the carriage along the boulevard and in the park… O, if only they could stay babies forever… mommy, mommy, looky… O Harry, God should bless you so you don’t have pain… Ahhhhh, my boy… Be well and happy and make a good wedding… Ahhhhhhh, a good wedding… And the summer before the wedding. Remember Seymour? The Mardi Gras. My first time in Coney Island. Clowns, and dragons and floats and confetti… the sun… remember the sun that day Seymour? I can feel it now. And we went on the carousel… I can hear it… it was somehow different that day. O, Seymour, so many days were different for us… and you used to grab me, Sara chuckled and squirmed slightly, and say such things… Im going on the television, Seymour. What do you think of that? Your Sara on television. Adas fixing my hair. Red. Like the dress. Sort of. Remember, I wore it for Harrys bar mitzvah? Well, the hair isn’t so good but Ada will make it nice. Can you imagine, your Sara on the television? Did you ever think it could be? Maybe I/ll stay a long time. They might want me for some other show too. Remember, they discovered Lana Turner in a drugstore? Remember? I think Swabs? Who knows? Its like a new life Seymour. Its already a new life… and Sara Goldfarb, Mrs. Seymour Goldfarb, nuzzled her cheek into her pillow and smiled such a nice smile that even in the dark it glowed with the joy that flowed from her heart and through her entire being. Life was no longer something to endure, but to live. Sara Goldfarb had been given a future.
Harry and Marion got off on the last of his stuff and made it on the couch grooving behind the high and the music. There was a softness in the music that they automatically focused on, a softness in the light that glowed from the top and the bottom of the shades and glowed in widening circles, and filtered through the multicolored sides of the shades and ever so gently pushed the darkness into the far corners and soothingly coated the room with a hint of color that was friendly to their eyes; and there was a kindness and tenderness in their attitudes as they held each other and turned their heads to avoid blowing smoke in each others face; even their voices were low and gentle and seemed a part of the music. Harry was brushing the hair back from Marions forehead, noticing how the dim light reflected from the perfect blackness of her hair and made the outline of her nose and high cheekbones seem to shimmer. You know something? Ive always thought you are the most beautiful woman Ive ever seen. Marion smiled and looked up at him, Really? Harry nodded and smiled, Since the first time I met you. Marion reached up and caressed his cheek with the tips of her fingers and smiled tenderly, Thats nice Harry. Her smile broadened, That really makes me feel good. Harry chuckled, Good for your ego, eh? Well I cant say that it does it any harm, but thats not what I mean. It makes me feel good all over, like… well, you know lots of people tell me things like that and its meaningless, completely meaningless. You mean because you think theyre putting you on? No, no, nothing like that. I dont know or care if they are. I guess maybe they really mean it, but from them, Marion shrugged, it just doesnt mean anything to me. They can be the most sincere person in the world and I feel like asking them what that has to do with the price of coffee, you know what I mean? Harry nodded and smiled, Yeah… She looked into Harrys eyes for a moment, feeling the tenderness in her look, But when you say it I hear it. You know what I mean? I really hear it. It has meaning to me. I mean, like its important and I not only hear it, but I believe it with all of me… and it makes the inner me feel good. Harry smiled, Im glad. Because you make me feel good. She turned excitedly, You know why? Its because I feel that you really know me, the real me. Youre not just looking at the outside, Marion looked even more intently into Harrys eyes, but youre looking at my inner being and seeing that there is a real person inside. All my life Ive been told Im beautiful, a, quote, Raven Haired Beauty, unquote, and I was told that because that was supposed to make everything alright. Dont worry honey, youre a beauty, everything will be alright. My mothers an absolute nut like that. Like thats the Alpha and Omega of existence. Like if youre beautiful you dont feel pain or have dreams or know the despair of loneliness. Why should you be unhappy, youre so beautiful? My God they drive me nuts, like all I am is a beautiful body and nothing else. Not once, never, have they ever tried to love the real me, to love me for what I am, to love me for my mind. Harry continued to stroke her head and caress her cheek and neck and gently rub the lobe of her ear, smiling as she moved her head and softened her smile as he caressed her. I guess we/re kindred souls and thats why we can feel so close to each other. Her eyes glowed even more intensely as she turned and leaned on an arm and looked at Harry, Thats what I mean. You see, you have feelings. You can appreciate the inner me. Like right now I feel a closeness between us that Ive never felt with anyone before… anyone . Yeah, I know what you mean. Thats how I feel. I don’t know if I can put it into words, but– Thats just it, it doesnt need words. Thats the whole point. Like whats the use of all those words when the feelings arent behind them. Theyre just words. Like I can look at a painting and tell it, youre beautiful. What does it mean to the painting? But Im not a painting. Im not two dimensional. Im a person . Even a Botticelli doesnt breathe and have feelings. Its beautiful, but its still a painting. No matter how beautiful the outside may be, the inside still has feelings and needs that just words dont fulfill. She nestled into his chest and Harry put an arm around her and held her hand, Yeah, youre right. Its not just the outside thats beautiful, but they dont know. Its hopeless. Thats why you cant be worried about the world. Theyll just do you in anyway. You cant depend on them because sooner or later theyll turn on you or just disappear and leave you there alone. Marion frowned for a moment, But you cant shut everyone out. I mean you have to have someone to love… someone to hold on to… someone– No, no, I don’t mean that, Harry pulled her back to his chest, I just mean that bunch of lames out there. Someone like you could really make it alright for me. With you with me I could really do something. Marion almost sighed, Do you really mean that Harry? Do you really think I could inspire you? Harry looked into her eyes, then at her face and gently glided the tip of a finger over her cheek and traced the outline of her nose, his face and eyes in a soft and tender smile, You could really make my life worth while. A guy needs something to give his life a reason or whats the point of living? I need more than the streets. I don’t want to be a floating crap game all my life. I want to be something… anything. Marion hugged him tightly, O Harry I think I really can help you be something. Theres something in me thats crying to come out but it needs the right person to open the lock. You can unlock it Harry. I know it. Harry put his arms around her as she cuddled into him. Yeah, I bet we could. He stroked her head for a moment as he looked up at the ceiling, Thats why I want to get some money and buy a piece. I dont want to spend my life hustling the streets and end up like the rest of them. If I can just get some money I can go into a business and settle right into it. He looked at Marion and smiled, I never told anybody this, but Ive always wanted to open a coffee house theater sort of place. You know, it would have good food and pastries and different kinds of coffee and hot chocolate and teas from all over the world, Germany, Japan, Italy, Russia, all over. And it could be sort of a theater group where youd have performances at night and maybe mimes doing little skits from time to time. I don’t know, I havent really got it all straight, but– Marion sat up, O, that sounds fantastic. Thats a great idea Harry. O, you could even have paintings by young painters on the wall. It could be sort of a gallery too. Sculpture. Harry nodded, Yeah. That sounds good. O Harry, lets do it. O lets. Its a terrific idea. I can get the painters without any trouble. O, and we could have poetry readings a couple of nights a week O Harry its so exciting and it could work, I just know it could. Yeah, I know. I figure it may take time, but I could probably open up a couple of them. You know, after the one here gets going we could go to Frisco and open one. O, you would love San Francisco, Harry. And I know enough people there to get it going, the mimes, the poets, the painters, I know them all, and who knows what could happen after that. Harry smiled, Yeah. But we have to make sure its goin right here before we go spreading our wings. O, I know. But we can still plan. How long do you think it will take to get the money? Harry shrugged, I dont know. Not long. Once we cop the first piece it will be pretty easy after that. She hugged him, O Harry, Im so excited. I cant tell you. Harry chuckled, I never would have guessed. They laughed and put their arms around each other and kissed, first gently, then more passionately, and Harry pulled his face back a few inches and looked lovingly at Marion, I love you, and kissed her on the tip of her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks, then her soft lips, her chin, her neck, her ears, then nuzzled his face in her hair and caressed her back with his hands and breathed her name in her ear, Marion, Marion, I love you, and she gently moved with the flow and felt his words and kisses and feelings flow through her, easing away all her problems, her doubts, her fears, her anxieties and she felt warm and alive and vital. She felt loved. She felt necessary. Harry felt real and substantial. He could feel all the loose pieces starting to fall into place. He felt on the verge of something momentous. They felt whole. They felt united. Though they were still on the couch they felt a part of the vastness of the sky and the stars and moon. They were somehow on the crest of a hill with a gentle breeze blowing Marions hair flowingly; and walking through a sunlit woods and flower studded field feeling the freedom of the birds as they flew through the air chirping and singing and the night was comfortingly warm as the soft filtered light continued to push the darkness into the shadows as they held each other and kissed and pushed each others darkness into the corner, believing in each others light, each others dream.
Sara smiled her way into wakefulness. It was early but she felt completely refreshed. She wasn’t sure if she had dreamed or not, but if she had it was a beautiful dream. She thought she heard birds chirping. She got up and went ipsy pipsy into the bathroom and showered and got ready for the new day. She looked in the mirror at her hair and shrugged and smiled. Big deal. Its beautiful. Its in the family, and she giggled. Flash, bam, alexkazam, its an orange colored sky. She giggled again and went ipsy pipsy into the living room, turned on the set, then into the kitchen and started boiling her egg then went out to the mailbox to see if her television papers had come yet. She knew the mailman wasn’t due for hours, but you never can tell. There might have been a special delivery of some kind or maybe theres a different mailman whose delivering the mail early. Her mailbox was empty. So were the others. She went back to her apartment and started fixing the grapefruit and wondered if she should eat first the grapefruit or the egg. She sipped her black coffee, thinking, then ate part of the grapefruit, then the egg and then finished the grapefruit. And then it was all gone. It seemed like she just got up and already the breakfast was gone. She shrugged and filled an eight‑ounce glass of water and drank it, visualizing the weight melting off. She sat at the table drinking her coffee, but her hands kept reaching for something so she got up and washed the dishes, then dried them and put them away, then looked at the clock wondering how long before lunch time and realized it wasnt even breakfast time yet and a feeling of panic started in her stomach, but she went back to the bedroom and made the bed and straightened the room and told her stomach to stop already, Youll feel better in the red dress than a cheese danish. She sang and hummed and fluttered about as she cleaned the living room, waiting until it was time to go to Adas for another treatment on her hair. As she cleaned she became more and more interested in the program on television and so she finally stopped and sat in her viewing chair to watch the remainder of the show. The ending was not only happy, it was funny and heartwarming and her heart was even more joyful as she got her towel and left the apartment. She checked the mailbox again then went to Adas. At least todays not so bad. Just some more dye. Did you get the letter? No mail yet. I think maybe its coming today. You think its telling which show? Sara shrugged, I hope. What are you winning maybe? What am I winning? a weekend with Robert Redford, how should I know? Maybe when I find out the show I/ll know the prizes. Ada wrapped the towel around Saras neck as they adjusted themselves in front of the television set, I saw yesterday a lady from Queens on a show she won a brand new car, a six piece set of luggage with already a cosmeks case, o such a gorgeous blue. You know Ada, thats just what I need. A new car and luggage. For when I drive to Miami. I always have new luggage when I go the Fountainblew. Make sure you have the car waxed and not a cheapie, but solomized. In that sun you need protection on the car. Tell me, was the car big enough for a driver and the luggage? Ada started applying the dye, You should have seen that lady, she almost fainted. I think she lives near the Katzes. The Katzes? Yeah, remember? Rae and Irving Katz. They used to live over Hymies delicatessen. When was this? Maybe ten years ago. Who knows? Im supposed to remember ten years ago the Katzes from over Hymies delicatessen. Thats when my Seymour died. O, I know, I know. But you remember. They had such a nice young boy. Hes a big doctor now. In Hollywood. Oh yeah, I remember. So they live near the lady with the car and luggage? Ada shrugged. Could be. They moved to Queens. Maybe they know each other. Anyway, its a nice prize. Just what I need. I saw yesterday a couple win a swimming pool. A swimming pool? Yeah. With already a filter and heater and all kinds things. Now thats what I need. I could move out the couch and they could put it in the living room. It wouldnt work Sara. Theyd raise your rent. Raise it over what? Everything. I/ll give them the luggage. Let them take a trip and leave me alone. Careful, dont move while I get this. Youre not needing a red nose. Ada carefully applied the dye as they continued to talk and speculate, and when she finished Sara looked at the clock, Good. Just in time for my lunch. For a change, I think I/ll have a egg, grapefruit, black coffee, and a little bit letttuce. Bone appetite.
Harry and Marion slept in each others arms on the couch. The music was still playing and the light from the lamp in the corner blended with the sunlight that eased through the drawn shades. There was a stillness in the room that somehow ignored the noise of the Bronx streets, cluttered with people and vehicles grumbling, yelling and rumbling. Their skin was moist from the hot, humid air yet they slept undisturbed and restful. The apartment, and everything in it, seemed isolated and insulated from its surroundings, and reflected the attitude of the sleepers. Occasionally a truck would rattle windows and shake floors and walls, but the sound was muted by the stillness of the air; and, from time to time, something would disturb the air and the dust motes that floated in the diffused sunlight danced as the air gentled by in caressing waves. The summer sun continued to rise in the sky and propel shocks of heat down on the city and the heavy moisture moistened bodies and clothing, and people fanned and wiped at sweating faces trying to survive another bitch of a day as Harry and Marion peacefully passed the day sleeping in each others arms oblivious to the reality surrounding them.
Sara checked the mailbox after a hearty lunch in which she had some extra lettuce. Well, actually you couldn’t call it cheating because it was only half a cup of lettuce… Well, it really depends on how you measure: loose or tight. If youre just putting a little lettuce in the measuring cup theres already more air than lettuce. All Sara did was push out the air between the pieces of lettuce… very hard, and got almost a half a head in half a cup. So whats the big deal? Youre not needing a toothpick no matter how much lettuce you eat. She drank two glasses of water, rapidly, then tried to convince herself that she was filled, but who you kidding? Nobody believes a story like that. Im not full, Im starving. She rechecked the book again and it assured her that after the first day or two (two! you got to be kidding!!!) you will be feeding off your own fat and wont be hungry. Im waiting. The book also suggested that she visualize herself at her perfect weight and concentrate on that to avoid thinking of any hunger she may have (may have? Whos kidding who?!) and she did and again she saw herself in her gorgeous red dress and red hair with golden shoes looking so zophtic as she walked across the television screen, but even at a perfect weight and looking so ipsy pipsy nifty she was still hungry. Im not hungry because Im thin and beautiful? I dont eat just because Im so gorgeous? She looked at the book, Eh, you should plotz already? She didnt bother with her coffee but went out to the mailbox. Still no mail yet. She went back to the apartment and stood in the middle of the kitchen staring at the refrigerator and could feel herself leaning forward slowly, but continuously, and she became fascinated and hypnotized by the action and wondered how far forward she could lean before she fell flat on her face and she leaned further and further until she suddenly put her arms out and stopped herself from falling by pushing on the refrigerator. This I dont need. She turned her back on the refrigerator and walked sideways past it into the bathroom. She fluffed her hair and looked at it carefuly. Still not the red she wanted, but red it is. Sort of carrot, but a red. Definitely its part of the family. Tomorrow she/ll get another treatment and maybe then its perfect, but for now its alright. Maybe she/ll go out and get a little sun while she waits for the mailman. Theyll all want to see how gorgeous her new hair is. She stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and turned her back and tossed her head at the refrigerator, So whats the big deal, and picked up her folding chair and went ipsy pipsy out to the street, checking the mailbox first. She joined the others sitting alongside the building, getting the sun. A few had reflectors that they held under their chins as they stared up at the sun. Sara could feel how her hair glimmered in the sun and shook her head a little as she waited for the first comment. Ada told us. Its gorgeous. Thank you. We/re making it a little darker tomorrow. To match the red dress. So why darker? Now its looking like Lucille Ball. But Im not. But soon… Im on a diet. One of the ladies lowered her reflector for a moment, Cottage cheese and lettuce, then raised the reflector again. The women continued to keep their eyes closed and their faces stretched toward the sun as they talked. What diet you on? Eggs and grapefruit. Oi vay. I was on once. Lots of luck dolly. Its not so bad. How long you been on already? All day. All day? Its one oclock. All days forever? So? All day is still all day. Im thinking thin. My Rosie lost fifty pounds like that almost. Like that? Like what? Like that, that. Poof. You put her in a sweat box? A doctor. He gave her pills. It makes you not want to eat. So whats so good about that? Who wants not to want to eat? You mean Im sitting here not thinking about chopped liver and pastrami on rye? With a slice of onion and mustard. Herring. Herring? Yeah, herring. In sour cream. With matzoh. A nosh. When the sun goes behind that building Im having a nosh, she squinted at the sun, maybe another twenty minutes. You shouldnt talk like that already when someones on a diet. Eh, big deal. I/ll sneak an extra piece of lettuce. Im thinking thin. The women continued to sit on the chairs, pushed up against the building wall, faces thrust at the sun, and talking until the mailman came. Sara picked up her chair and followed him into the building. Ada and the other ladies followed. Goldfarb. Goldfarb. I know you have a big important mail for Goldfarb. Well, ah dont know. Aint much of anythin here but a couple a things, and he continued to put mail in the boxes, aint much aroun here cept on the beginnin a the onth wit them social security checks. But Im expecting something– Here somethin for Goldfarb, Sara Goldfarb, and he handed Sara a thick envelope. So lets see. Open it, open it. Sara carefully opened the envelope, not wanting to injure anything on the inside, and took out a form letter and a two part questionnaire with a return envelope clipped to them. So whats the show? The mailman closed the boxes then worked his way around the knot of women around Sara, So long, have a nice day now, you hear? and whistled his way out of the building. The women nodded and automatically said a goodbye or two, then leaned, intently, toward Sara. It doesnt say what show. What? How can you know if theyre not telling you? They decide after you send them this form. So why a big mystery already? Ada took the letter from Sara, and Sara pointed to the paragraph, See? Ada nodded her tead as she read, “… as the promotional agency for several of the shows on television utilizing contestants, as well as proposed shows, we want to take this opportunity…” A lot of words to say nothing. Its like the soap opera, tune in tomorrow for the next chapter. They chuckled and went back to the chairs to get the last bit of sun before it went behind the building. Sara shrugged and went back to her apartment to puzzle over the questionnaire. She flipped on the television md sat in her viewing seat and read the questionnaire several times before going into the kitchen. She turned her back on the refrigerator and made a glass of tea, then sat down at the kitchen table to complete the form. Actually, Sara had not filled in too many forms in her life, but whenever she was faced with the ordeal they always seemed impossible at first. This one was the same. She just sat, with her back to the refrigerator, and sipped her tea for a moment knowing that soon it would start to make sense. She looked at the form out of the corner of her eye then slowly slid it across the table until it was right in front of her so it was almost touching her nose. So, big deal. A piece of papers going to bug me? Ask me? Go ahead Mr. Smartypants, ask me a question? Uh. You call that a question? That kind I take six at once. She started to fill in the form, carefully printing each letter. Her name. Address. Telephone number. Social security number. Huh, like a breeze, and she glided from one question to the next, then stopped abruptly. So now youre getting personal? Does Macys tell Gimbels? She squinted at the form out of the corner of her eye and sipped her tea. Okay, you want to know so I/ll tell you, and she quickly put down a few numbers after: Date of Birth. The next question was: Age. So now they want me to count for them. An Einstein Im not, but I can figure that. She looked at the next question and smiled then chuckled and shrugged before answering it. Marital Status: wanting, needing. Maybe theyre sending me Robert Redford… or maybe even Mickey Rooney. Sex: So why not? She giggled and continued talking to the form, putting in the answers carefully and clearly. When she finished, she reread it several times making certain that every answer was exactly right and that nothing had been overlooked. She couldnt be sloppy or lazy with something as important as this. How many dreams could come true through this form? Where can it lead? Every day on the television she saw things suddenly work out for people. People get married. Sons come home. Everybody is happy. She sat with her eyes closed for a moment then ever so gently folded the form, in its original creases, and put it in the self‑addressed envelope, sealed it pressing hard for many long seconds on the flap, then putting it on the chair and sitting on it for extra insurance. If that doesnt seal it then it doesnt have to be sealed. She tossed her head and shoulders at the refrigerator, Who needs you? and left to mail the form. A few of the ladies were sitting in the shade. Sara waved the envelope, Its ready to go on its way. They walked with her to the mailbox on the corner. I wonder when youll hear? Maybe theyll send you for a week to Grossingers, thats where they send all the stars. Im eating eggs and grapefruit at Grossingers? The ladies smiled and chuckled as they walked down the street. Their own friend, Sara Goldfarb, for twenty years, for some more, their friend and she was going to be on the television. Theres sorrow and pain in everyones life, but every now and then theres a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed. That ray of light was shining already on their friend Sara Goldfarb and they were partaking of the light too and sharing her hope and dream. Sara pulled down the panel on the mailbox and kissed the envelope before dropping it in. She closed it then opened it again to make sure it had dropped down into the box, and entrusted her dream to the United States Postal Service.
The nine to fivers, the brown baggers, the strap hangers, the working stiffs, the squares were at home, or on their way, by the time Harry and Marion slipped into a new day. Whenever their eyes opened, even partially, the shadows seemed to attack them and force them shut so they rolled over as best they could on the narrow couch, groaning unconsciously, and tried to go back to sleep, but though their eyes were heavy and their bodies sluggish, additional sleep was impossible so they hung between wakefulness and blackness until the blackness became too uncomfortable and they forced their stiff bodies up and sat on the side of the couch for a moment orienting themselves. Harry massaged the back of his neck, Wow, I feel like I’ve been playing football for krists sake. He pulled at his shirt, I’m soakin wet. Take it off and put it on the back of the chair. It will dry out pretty fast. I/ll make some coffee. Harry watched Marion walk across the room, her ass grinding gently from side to side. He put his shirt on the back of the chair, stared out the window for a moment, holding the shade just a few inches from the window, staring at the action on the street so blankly that everything seemed to split up into many images and eventually he had to blink everything back into perspective. He rubbed his head and stretched his eyes open wider for a second. He gradually became aware of the noises coming from the kitchen then released the shade and joined Marion as she put two cups of coffee on the table. Good timing. Yeah. They sat and started sipping the hot coffee as they smoked. Jesus, I dont even remember falling asleep, do you? Marion smiled, I only remember you rubbing the back of my neck and whispering to me. Harry chuckled, The way my hand feels I must have been rubbing it all night. Marion looked and sounded almost shy, It was nice. I love it. Last night was the best night I have ever had in my life. You putting me on? She smiled softly, sweetly, and shook her head, No. After sleeping with you with our clothes on how can I put you on? Harry chuckled and shrugged, Yeah. That is a little weird, isn’t it? But it was kindda groovy. Marion nodded, I think its beautiful. Harry yawned again and shook his head, Man, I cant seem to get it going this morning, or today or tonight or whatever it is. Here, Marion passed him a spansule, take this and youll be awake soon enough. Huh, whats this, putting it in his mouth and swallowing it, then chasing it with coffee. A dexie spansule. You can take another one before you go to work. Work? Oh yeah, we/re supposed to make it down to that newspaper gig tonight, eh? Jesus. Dont worry, by the time you finish the next cup of coffee youll have a different attitude toward it. Especially when you remember why youre working. Harry scratched his head, Yeah, I guess so. But right now it all seems impossible. Then dont think about it. She refilled their cups, When we finish this we/ll take a shower. That always works. Yeah. She smiled, Like walking in the rain.
Harry was not only wide awake by the time Tyrone called, he was chomping at the bit and had been talking for a couple of hours without stop, taking the edge off the dexies with a couple of pokes off a joint once in a while. He was more actively a part of the music, his body moving energetically, his fingers quietly snapping, his head seeming to be in the midst of the chords as they were absorbed by him. When he stopped talking long enough to take’ a drink of coffee, a drag on his cigarette, a poke, or just to breathe, his jaws kept moving as he ground his teeth. Jesus, I could listen to that all night. That son of a bitch has an incredible sound, really something else… yeah, baby, blow… Harry closed his eyes for a moment, nodding in time to the music, his head tilted toward the radio, You hear that? eh? You dig the way he comes down and flattens it? You dig those changes? Man! thats too much… yeah, go get it baby, hahaha, blow your ass off, jesus hes great. The way he just sort of glides into the up tempo really knocks me out, you dig? Like no sudden change with a funky ass drum roll and snare shots but just a nice easy glide into the up tempo and before you know it hes got you finger poppin. Hes outta sight man, just really outta sight… The piece ended and Harry snapped his attention back to Marion after finishing his coffee. Marion refilled his cup. You know, after we cop the piece and have the bread we should go downtown and fall by one of the joints and dig some music. I/d love to. Theres a lot of things we/re going to do when we make that bread. We/re going to move on out. We/re going to get it all together and turn things upside down. We/ll have that coffee shop going in no time and then we/ll go to Europe and you can show me all those paintings youre always talking about. We can even get you a studio and you can go back to painting and sculpting. The coffee houses will take care of themselves with the right people running them, and we can just make it around the world for a while and lay back and dig the scene. Youll love it Harry. Walking through miles of Titians in the Louvre. You mean the Lou ver? hahaha. A place I always wanted to go was Instanbul. I don’t know why, but Ive always wanted to go to Instanbul. Especially on the Orient Express, you know? Maybe with Turhan Bey and Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre. Krist, cant forget him. Remember him in M ? Marion nodded her head. I always wondered what it was like to be like that, you know a child molester. I dont know, but Ive always felt sort of sorry for those dudes, I mean I feel sorry for the kids too, but the guys, krist thats really got to be something to have to pick up little kids and con them into going down some cellar or someplace and then making it with them, jesus… I wonder what goes on their heads, like what do they think about? It must be a drag when they wake up alone and know what they did… jesus. And in the joint all the other prisoners hate them, ya know that? Marion nodded her head again, They’re the most despised guys in the joint. Everybodys on their case and when some con dumps them nobody does anything about it even when they know who did it. They just turn their back and go the other way and in some joints they punk them and if they dont go for it they rape them. Man, its got to be a tough bit. Im sure glad thats not my shtik , leaning forward and looking even more intently at Marion, his eyes straining from their sockets, his chest vibrating from the beating of his heart, Im glad its us and we dont need nothing or anything else, just us, he grabbed her hands in his and caressed them for a moment then kissed her fingertips then the palms of her hands then held them tight against his mouth for a moment then caressed her palm with the tip of his tongue and looked over her hands at her and she smiled from her mouth, her eyes, her heart and her entire being, I love you Harry. We/re going to do great things, baby, and show this world where its at because I can feel it in my bones, I mean I can really feel it, theres nothing I cant do, nothing, and Im going to make you the happiest woman in the world and thats a promise and a fact because Ive got something in me thats always been trying to come out and with you baby its going to come out and nothing can stop me, its right to the top and if you want the moon then its yours and I/ll even wrap it up for you–Marion continued to hold his hands and look into his eyes, her expression soft and loving–Im telling you I feel like Cyrano, and he stood up and waved his right arm around as if holding a sword, Bring me giants, not mere mortals, bring me giants and I/ll chop them up in little pieces and– The doorbell rang and Marion got up and went to the door, chuckling, I hope its not a very big one. She opened the door and Tyrone dragassed in. Harry stood in the middle of the living room waving his imaginary sword, This is a giant? On guard! and he started fencing with Tyrone who just stood there trying to raise his eyes, My father was the best swordsman in Tel Aviv, and he continued to go through his fencing number lunging forward, parrying, thrusting, bending at the knee and suddenly, while bent low, he thrust forth his trusty rapier and struck his enemy a mortal blow, touched Harry bowed, his fighting arm at his waist, and ushered Tyrone into the kitchen. Marion laughed. Hey man, what the fucks wrong with you . Wrong with me? Nothings wrong with me. I never felt better in my life. Its a great day. A momentous day. A day that will go down in the annals of history as the day Harry Goldfarb turned the world around, upside down, and on its ass, the .day I fell hopelessly and completely in love and give to my betroved my white plume, and he bowed deeply again and Marion curtsied and accepted the plume and he knelt at her feet and kissed her extended hand, Arise, Sir Harold, royal knight of the garter, defender of the realm, my beloved prince– Sheeit, alls ah did was askim whats wrong with him and ah gets television on the hoof–Marion and Harry were laughing and Tyrone seemed to be held up by invisible strings that threatened to snap at any moment–Yawl is crazy. You alright Ty? you look a little pale, and Harry broke up laughing. Now aint this a shame? aint this a mutha fuckin shame? Youd better close your eyes man, youll bleed to death, and Harry laughed louder and Marion giggled as she shook her head. O sheeit. Ah feel like Im in the middle of a mutha fuckin comic book jim. Harry was still laughing, You got to get with it man. Dont be a drag, feed your dog flag. Tyrone flopped at the kitchen table and looked up at Marion. Whatch you feedin this cat, baby? Love man. Shes feeding me love. Ive finally found the diet Ive been looking for all my life. Dont you know that its love that makes the world go round man. Ah aint worried bout the world baby, jus you. Harry and Marion laughed as Tyrone smiled weakly and Harry twirled Marion around in a circle then put his arm around her waist and kissed her delicate throat ever so lightly as she bent slightly on his arm. Ah been up all night and day ballin till ah feel like mah ass be in mah shoes and you stand there with your big ugly face flappin in the breeze an tell me love make the world go round. Sheeit. It make me wanna sleep for thirty‑seven years. Tyrone giggled and Harry and Marion laughed and she gave him a dexie and Tyrone popped it and gulped at a cup of coffee. Ah dont know why Im here. Ah swear ah dont. If that fox didn’t wake me up and say ah got to go cause I make her promise me she/d get mah ass out… sheeit, ah could sleep on a picket fence. Its the power of love Ty. Thats what got you here. We sent out vibrations of love so your pale, but sweet little ass could get over here so we can go make that bread to get that piece. Sheeit. What do love have to do with bein greedy for a piece? Harry bent Marion over as he held her with a hand on her back and sang, ala Russ Columbo, Ah but you call it madness, but I call it love. Ah just hopes ah survives long enough for that funky ass cap to work before yawl drive me bananas. Thats not much of a drive, thats a short put, and Harry broke up laughing as Marion giggled and shook her head, O Harry, thats awful, and Tyrones eyes flashed open, briefly, and he looked at Harry, a mock expression of disbelief on his face, Somebody oughtta shoot this dude, jim, he be in baaaad pain, and Tyrones giggling joined Harrys laughter and Marion started laughing and they all sat at the table and when Marion stopped laughing she refilled the coffee cups and Harry finally slowed enough to take a couple of deep breaths and got hung up in a tune and his consciousness was absorbed by, and involved in, the tune and he half closed his eyes and nodded and finger popped as he listened, Sheeit, he may look like a fool but he shure do sound betta this way… damn, that tickles me, and Marion started laughing and Tyrone continued giggling and Harry looked at him with his cool expression, Be cool man, and went back to nodding and finger popping and Tyrone C. Love finished his second cup of coffee and the hinges on his eyes sprung the lids open and he started sipping on his third cup of coffee and lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair, Blow your ass off, baby, and started nodding and finger popping and Harry, with his eyes still half closed, extended his arm out to the side, the palm up, and Tyrone slapped it, Sheeit, we/s gonna make it baby, and Harry slapped his, Yeahhhhhh, and Marion leaned against Harry and he put an arm around her as they listened and felt the strength of determination pound through them, occasionally nodding toward the clock, waiting for the time, the time that was now going fleetingly by, to step forth to a new dimension…
The first day of the diet was over. Well, almost. Sara sat in her viewing chair, sipping on a glass of water, concentrating on the show on the screen and ignoring the refrigerator which was whispering enticingly to her. She finished the water, her tenth glass, thinking thin. She refilled the glass from the pitcher on the table, the pitcher that replaced the chocolate box. If eight glasses of water was good, then sixteen is twice as good and maybe I/ll lose twenty pounds the first week. She looked at the glass of water and shrugged, If I stay up all night I cant make sixteen. I drink any more Im going to be up all night anyway. She sipped the water, thinking thin. The refrigerator reminded her of the matzoh in the cupboard. Without looking at it she told it to mind its own business. What do you have to do with the cupboard? Its bad enough you have to remind me about the herring you got but the cupboard is too much already. She sipped some more water and stared at the screen and shut her ears to the refrigerator, but he managed to penetrate the barrier and tell her that the herring, the beautiful and delicious herring in sour cream, will go bad if she doesn’t eat it soon and it would be a shame to let such good herring tidbits go to waste. So listen to Mr. Concerned. Youre worried so much about the food going bad why do you do it? Thats your job meshuggener . Youre supposed to keep the food from going bad. You do your job an the herring will be fine thank you. She sipped some more water–thin, thin, thin, thin . Too bad I dont have a scale. I could weigh myself and see how its working. Eh, right now it would groan. All this water. Anymore and I/ll float away. The program ended and Sara yawned and blinked her eyes. She thought briefly of staying up and watching the late show, but quickly ignored that thought. Her body was aching and was crying for sleep. It was a day. The hair is getting closer to the red. At least now theres a nodding acquaintance. She drank more water–thin, thin . The form… eh, a nothing. Zipping through like a whirling dervish, youll excuse the expression. And the eggs and grapefruit, one, two, three, and some lettuce thank you. A long, tiring day. Almost too tired to go to bed. She suddenly remembered the refrigerator, If he tries to grab me I/ll hit him, and not in the tuchis . She finished her water– thin, th – zophtic, zophtic, zophtic . She stood up and listened to the sloshing, I feel like a goldfish bowl. She turned off the set, put the pitcher and glass in the sink and, with head high and shoulders back, she walked past the refrigerator swerving neither to the left nor right, her eyes fixed steadfastly ahead at her goal, knowing that she had conquered the enemy and that he shook with fear–listen to him grumbling and rumbling, shaking in his boots already–and she walked like a queen, a television queen, to her bedchamber. She slowly, and luxuriously, lowered herself onto the bed and stretched out, thanking God for such a nice bed. Her worn nightgown felt so silky and smooth and cool and softness seemed to surround her, and a feeling of peace and joy gently spread out from her stomach, like small ripples in a pond, through her body and rested ever so lightly on her eyes as she floated off into a joyous and refreshing slumber.
Marion hustled them out of the house early so Harry and Tyrone were among the first to show up for work. Actually it didnt make any difference because so few shaped up that everyone was put to work. They took another dexie before leaving so they were very quick and ready to go. It was a hot and humid night and the sweat poured off them as they tossed bundles of papers into the trucks, but they just tossed and laughed and giggled and talked, doing as much work as any six men there. When their first truck was loaded they went over to another one to help, and the guys stood back and shook their heads as Harry and Tyrone tossed the bundles of papers around like it was a privilege and a game… a fun game. One of the guys told them to cool it, Youll fuck this thing up man. Like how? Shit, they push us hard enough as it is, if you guys start racin like this theyll expect this every night. One of the other guys handed each of them a can of cold beer, Here, take it easy and cool off. We come here pretty steady, you know? an we want ta keep it like it is. Sheeit, I dig what you say baby. We be cool. We doan want the man to lay a heavy han on nobody jim. Yeah, Harry nodded an swallowed half the beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, goddamn thats good. Cuts through the blotter I got in my mouth. The other guys slapped Harry and Tyrone on the back and everybody was happy, and when the trucks were finished Harry and Tyrone bought the next dozen cans of beer and passed them around while they waited for the next line of trucks to back in. Later on a few bottles of wine were passed around and Harry and Tyrone were feeling pretty good, the alcohol taking the sharp edge off the dexies. They worked a couple of hours extra and were as happy as hogs in shit figuring out just how much they would make that night. The kick in the ass came when they found out they wouldnt get paid that night, but would have to wait until the end of the week to get their checks. Sheeit. Now aint that a shame? Aint that a mutha fuckin shame? Ah fuck it man. What the hell. This way we/ll get our bread all at once an wont have to worry about pissin it away before we get enough for the piece. Yeah, maybe so, but workins weird enough, but workin without getting the braid is somethin else jim. Dont sweat it, Ty my boy, just go home an take those downers Marions gave ya an get some rest. A couple more nights an we got our piece. Harry extended his hand and Tyrone slapped it, You goddamn right baby, and Harry slapped his and they left the newspaper plant, hurrying to get home before they got caught in the early morning rush hour, and the sunlight.
Marion languidly tidied up the apartment after they left, humming and singing to herself. The apartment was small and there wasnt much to do other than clean the cups and coffee pot and put them away. She sat on the couch, hugging herself as she listened to the music. She had the strangest feeling inside, a feeling that was unfamiliar but not threatening. She thought about it, tried to analyze it, but she couldnt quite identify it. For some reason she kept thinking of the many, many madonnas she had seen in the museums of Europe, especially in Italy, and her mind was filled with the bright blues and brilliant light of the Italian renaissance and she thought of the Mediterranean and the color of the sea and sky and how, as she looked at the isle of Capri from the restaurant on the top of the hill in Naples, she suddenly realized why the Italians were masters of light and why they could use blue like no one before or since. She remembered sitting on the patio of that restaurant under the net awning, the sun warming a new life into her and firing her imagination and experiencing what it must have been like to sit there a few hundred years ago in that light and color and listen to Vivaldis strings singing and vibrating through that air, and Gabrielis brass canzones pulsing from the nearby towers, and sit in a cathedral with the sun bursting through the stained windows and gleaming on the carved wood of the pews listening to a Monteverdi Mass. It was then, for the first time in her life, that she felt alive, really and truly alive, like she had a reason for existing, a purpose in her life and she had realized that purpose and would now pursue it and dedicate her life to it. All that summer and fall she painted, mornings, afternoons, evenings, then walked around the streets that were still echoing the music of the masters, and every stone, every pebble seemed to have a life and reason of its own and she somehow felt, though vaguely, a part of that reason. Some nights she would sit in the caf£ with other young artists and poets and musicians and who knows what else, drinking wine and talking and laughing and discussing and arguing and life was exciting and tangible and crisp like the clear Mediterranean sunlight. Then as the grayness of winter slowly seeped down from the north the energy and inspiration seemed to ooze from her as paint from a tube and now when she looked at a bare canvas it was only a bare canvas, a piece of material stretched over a few pieces of wood, it was no longer a painting waiting to be painted. It was just canvas. She went further south. Sicily. North Africa. Trying to follow the sun to the past, the very recent past, but all she found was herself. She went back to Italy, gave away all her paintings, equipment, books and what nots. She went back to that restaurant on the hill in Naples and sat there for endless hours for a week, looking at Vesuvius, Capri, the bay, the sky, trying, with the desperation of the dying, to reawaken those old feelings, trying with jewels of sparkling wine to rekindle the flame that half fired her imagination just a short lifetime ago, and though the wine sparkled in the sunlight, and the moonlight, the once blazing fire was extinguished and Marion finally succumbed to the stone coldness within her. She shivered as she remembered leaving Italy and coming back to the States, back to the grossness of her family, back to the dulled brilliance of her life. She shivered again, involuntarily, as she sat on the couch, looking back through so many miserably unhappy yesterdays, then smiled and hugged herself tighter, not from coldness nor fear nor despair, but joy. All that was in the near and distant past. Over with. Gone. Once more her life had reason… purpose. Once more there was a direction for her to follow. A need for her energies. She and Harry were going to recapture those blues of the sky and sea and feel the warmth of desire that had been rekindled. They were going to a new renaissance.
Sara slowly awakened in the middle of the night and though she tried for many long seconds to fight it, eventually she got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to relieve the urgent pressure of her bladder. She tried to blink her eyes open, but they were unyielding to her attempts and so she kept them almost completely closed as she sat thinking thin. Though still partially asleep, her mind clouded and fogged, she was still aware of the water passing through her body and the reason for its abundance–thin, thin, thin – she suddenly straightened up–zophtic, zophtic, zophtic – Why should I settle for second best? Still half asleep she stood for a few seconds watching and listening to the whirling water in the bowl with joy because she knew that not only unwanted pounds were going down the drain and ultimately to the ocean, but an old life, a life of loneliness, a life of futility, of being unnecessary. Sometimes her Harry needed her, but… She listened to the music of the water filling the flush tank and smiled through her haze of partial wake‑fulness, knowing that freshness was filling her and soon she would be a new Sara Goldfarb. The fresh water in the bowl was crystal clear and looked cool and refreshing, even in a toilet bowl it looked cool. Clean is clean and new is new… Still I/ll drink from the faucet, thank you. Sara went back to bed, a slight bounce to her step. The sheets felt cool and refreshing as she lay down and rubbed her fingertips up and down on the silky smoothness of her nightgown, sinking deeper into a smile, a smile that she saw reflected on the inner surface of her eyelids. She breathed slowly and deeply then sighed long and happily as she floated in the weightless joy between sleep and wakefulness and dozily felt the sensations tingle through her body and then seem to disappear somewhere in her toes as she cuddled into the light fluffmess of her old pillow and kissed herself goodnight and sailed eagerly into the comfort of her dreams.
Harry was still wired when he got back to Marions pad. She gave him a couple of sleeping pills and they sat on the couch for a while, smoking a joint, until Harry started to yawn and then they went to bed and slept through the dreary heat of the day.
Today the hair was perfect. Such a color. It was so gorgeous it makes you want to jump out a window. Now you should hurry up and get on the show before the roots grow out. Believe me, I want to, but Im glad theyre waiting until I lose more weight. When I walk across the stage its a hush youll hear. I/ll look over my shoulder and say I vant to be alone. So now youre Swedish American? They chuckled and Sara went back to her apartment to see how her red dress would look, now, with her red hair. She put it on, and the gold shoes, and posed and twisted and turned in front of the mirror, holding the back of the dress as close together as possible. It seemed to come a little closer. She could feel that she lost weight. She wiggled and squealed and smiled at her reflection, then threw herself a kiss, Youre gorgeous, a living doll. She wiggled and squealed again, kissed her hand then grinned at her reflection, A Greta Garbo youre not, but youre no Wallace Beery either. She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the refrigerator, See, Mr. Smarty‑pants, Mr. Fancy Dancy Herring Tidbits? Already its almost fitting. A few more inches, more or less, and I/ll fit in nice and snug thank you very much. Keep your herring. Whose needing? I love my egg and grapefruit. And lettuce. She posed and pranced for a while longer, then decided to eat her lunch and go out and get some sun. She took the egg, grapefruit and lettuce out of the refrigerator, an expression of smug superiority on her face. She tossed her head contemptuously at the refrigerator and hit the door with her tuchis . So, hows by you Mr. Big Mouth? You see how I look and youre speechless. She vamped in front of the refrigerator then proceeded to fix her lunch, humming, singing, wiggling, feeling safe and cocky. When she finished her lunch she washed the dishes, put them away, got her chair and, before leaving the apartment, kissed her fingertips and patted the refrigerator, Dont cry, dolly. As my Harry would say, Be cool. She chuckled, turned off the television, and left the apartment and joined the ladies sitting in the sun. She put her chair in a good spot and closed her eyes and faced the sun like the others. They didnt change positions as they talked, but continued to look straight ahead in the direction of the sun, turning their chairs occasionally so the sun would always be shining directly on their faces. Know yet what show? Are you hearing anything? How could I hear? I just mailed it yesterday. Maybe tomorrow. It might even be longer. So whats the difference what show? Thats how I feel. Its the television thats the important thing. Theyll let you know ahead of time? What are they going to do, tell her after the show? You can bring friends? Sara shrugged, So how should I know? They should let you bring at least a schlepper . Whose going to carry all those prizes? Believe me I/ll get them home. Especially Robert Redford. For him I dont need a schlepper . The women chuckled and nodded as they continued to stare at the sun, and women who were walking by stopped to talk with Sara and by the time she had been sitting there for half an hour all the women in the neighborhood were knotted around her talking, asking, chuckling, hoping, wishing. Sara felt warmed not only by the sun but by all the attention she was suddenly receiving. She felt like a star.
Marion bought some sketch pads and pencils and charcoal. She also bought a sharpener and a spray can of fixit. She wanted to buy some pastel chalks, but for some reason what they had didnt appeal to her so she let it go for now. She could always get them later. Maybe in a few days she would get down town and roam around the large art supply stores and smell and touch the canvas, the stretcher strips, easels and brushes and just sort of browse. She had no intention of buying any oils until she had a studio, but she did want to do some watercolors. Thats where her head was really at right now. She could feel that light, delicacy within her that she knew she could transform into beautiful and fragile water‑colors. Yes, that was what she liked most about watercolors, their fragility. She couldnt wait. She had this incredible urge to paint a single rose standing in a slender vase of translucent blue, Venetian glass, or perhaps lying on a piece of velvet. Yes, that would be lovely too. With just a hint of shadow. So delicate and fragile that you can smell its fragrance. Well we/ll see. Perhaps in a few days. But for now some sketching to help to re‑animate the eye and hand. She felt an almost uncontrollable urge to draw everything she saw as she walked the street, everything had such a vibrance, such a life. She quickly noticed the shapes of noses, eyes, ears; the planes of faces, the cheek bones, chins; the curve of necks; and hands. She loved hands. You can tell so much from hands and the way the fingers are shaped and primarily the way people hold and treat their hands. She was quite young, a child, the first time she saw a picture of Michelangelos Creation and when she saw the detail of God giving life to Adam the image was immediately and irrevocably implanted in her mind. The more she studied painting in the later years the more impressed she was with the simple conception behind that image and the incredible story in the attitude of the two hands. It was an attitude that she tried to incorporate in her work and every now and then she felt she had succeeded, at least to some degree. She wanted to simply, and directly, tell the viewer something about the painting with the attitude of the object whether human or otherwise, to transpose her inner feelings to the surface of the canvas… to express her attitude through her art, to have her sensitivity seen and felt.
The following days were pretty much the same for Marion, Harry and Ty. Harry and Ty got wired at night and worked their asses off, slowing down as much as possible when the other guys got on their cases, and then taking a few sleeping pills and sleeping through the day. Just once being a habit with Harry he was accustomed to the routine by the second night so when he got home in the morning he made love to Marion for a couple of hours before taking a couple of her sleeping pills and crapping out. Now I know why you lose weight on these things, you ball the weight off. You know, its just the opposite for some men. Yeah? Thats right. It makes them completely impotent and in some cases indifferent. Tougha lucka joe. That aint my problem. Comere, and Harry pulled her down on the bed and Marion giggled as he kissed her on the neck. What are you doing? Harry snapped his head back and looked at her, If you dont know I cant be doin it right. They laughed and Harry kissed her on the neck, the shoulder and the breast and moistened his lips and kissed her stomach, I want to see if I can wear it out. Which one? How many ya got? and they both laughed and giggled and passed a loving morning until it was time to sleep the day away.
At night, while Harry was at work, Marion sat on the couch with her sketch pad and pencils and charcoal. She crossed her legs under her and hugged herself and closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift into the future where she and Harry were together, always, and the coffee house was always full and a feature article had been written about it in the NEW YORKER and it became an in place and all the art critics came to sit and drink coffee and eat pastry and look at the paintings by the great artists of tomorrow that had been discovered by Marion; and artists and poets and musicians and writers sat around talking and discussing and from time to time Marion would display her paintings and all the other painters loved them and even the critics loved her work and praised its sensitivity and awareness, and when she was not at the coffee house she could see herself in her studio painting, the light from the paintings dazzling the eye, and then she would pick up her sketch pad and look around for something to sketch and nothing seemed to be exactly what she wanted to do and so she tried to set up a still life with objects from the kitchen or living room, but nothing seemed to excite or inspire her so she went back to her fantasies and enoyed the comfort and reassurance they gave her and they were more real than sitting on the couch looking at the pencils, the charcoal and the virgin sketch pad.
Äàòà äîáàâëåíèÿ: 2015-09-13; ïðîñìîòðîâ: 6; Íàðóøåíèå àâòîðñêèõ ïðàâ