Running With Scissors_ A Memoir - Augusten Burroughs [91]
“So you’re disgusted by your piggy daughter. You don’t approve?” Natalie taunted.
Agnes said, “And that’s a lovely tiara.”
Natalie got up off the chair and went over to the TV. With her big toe, she punched it off.
“Natalie!”
“What, Agnes?”
“Turn that television set back on. I was watching.”
Natalie cocked her head to the side and placed her hands on her hips. “No. Tell me more about how I disgust you.”
“Leave her alone, Nat,” Hope said, shifting uncomfortably on the other end of the sofa.
“You stay out of this,” Natalie ordered.
“Fine, I will,” said Hope. She picked up her white bible and began thumbing through the pages.
Seeing this, Natalie said, “What are you doing, Hope? Asking God if I’m a fat cow?”
Hope closed the bible and squared it on her lap. “Look, don’t drag me into this, Natalie. I’m not the one who called you fat. This is between you and Agnes.”
“So then, little Miss Biblethumper, stay the fuck out of it.”
“Don’t talk to your sister like that,” Agnes scolded, still watching the TV even though it was off.
Natalie shifted her weight onto one leg. She glanced over at me and rolled her eyes.
I rolled my eyes back. “Let’s go,” I said.
“Yes,” Agnes said. “Why don’t you two go to McDonald’s.”
“You fucking bitch,” Natalie said.
“That’s enough, Natalie,” Hope said.
Natalie stomped over to Agnes and snatched her purse. “Fine, we’ll go to McDonald’s.”
“Now you put that down.” Agnes grabbed the corner of her bag but Natalie pulled it away. “Give me that back, Natalie. That’s mine.”
“You said go to McDonald’s, so we’re going to go to McDonald’s.” Natalie reached into the purse, pulling out Agnes’s wallet. She tossed the purse back on the couch and the contents spilled onto the cushions. “All you have is a twenty?” Natalie said. “Fine, then I guess that’s all we’ll take.” She took the twenty and tucked it into the hip pocket on her jeans.
Agnes shouted, “Natalie, I need that money. You have no right to take that. I’m going to speak to the doctor about this.”
Natalie stood in the doorway, ready to leave. “Fine, you talk to the doctor all you want.” Then she looked at me. “Well?”
I got up from the sofa and followed her out of the room.
Upstairs in her room, Natalie stood in front of her fulllength mirror. She pulled her shirt up just below her breasts. “I am a pig,” she said, clutching her flesh in her hand.
“No you’re not,” I told her. “You’re not fat.”
She turned her back to the mirror and stretched her head around. “God, look at my ass. It’s huge.”
“Natalie, knock it off. You look fine. You’re very pretty.”
“Fuck it,” she said. “Let’s go get Big Macs.”
We went to McDonald’s and gorged ourselves on Big Macs and extra-large fries. After she sucked down the last of her milkshake, Natalie burped and said, “We only have forty cents left.”
I checked my Timex. It was only two in the afternoon. We would not survive the day without additional funds. “Who can we ask for money?”
Natalie wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Your mother?”
“We could try,” I said. “But I think all she’ll do is get hysterical about my father not giving her enough child support.”
Natalie chewed on the straw and went deep into thought.
I stared out the window at the cars in the parking lot. Why was everybody driving brown cars? Why not black or white or gray? Even red. But brown?
“Okay, I know what we can do,” Natalie said.
“What?”
“Let’s go to Amherst and hit Kimmel up.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. It was such a good idea. Like finding a ten-dollar bill in the pocket of your jeans. Kimmel might give us money. He was the doctor’s “spiritual brother” and also a Catholic priest, the head of his own church in Amherst.
We walked to the bus stop in front of Thome’s Market and smoked until the bus came. We sat in the back, slumped down with our knees on the seat in front of us. “You think he’ll give us anything?” I said.
“Oh, yeah,” Natalie said. “He’ll cough something up.”
When we arrived at the church, we were able to walk straight into