Running With Scissors_ A Memoir - Augusten Burroughs [92]
“Well, hello,” he said from behind his desk. Sunlight glinted off his silver glasses. He motioned us into his office.
Natalie and I sat in the two chairs in front of his desk. Natalie reached for the crystal Jesus paperweight on his desk.
“That’s fragile, dear,” Father Kimmel said the instant Natalie’s fingers touched it.
“Oops, sorry,” she said. Then she sniffed her fingers. “We just went to McDonald’s. Wouldn’t want to get any french fry grease on Jesus.”
Father Kimmel smiled and cleared his throat. “Well then, so,” he said. “What is the reason for this delightful surprise today?”
Natalie pointed to the cross behind Father Kimmel’s head. “Is that real gold?”
He was stiff with age and it wasn’t easy for him to turn. “What’s that?” he said, staring straight ahead at us, smiling.
“The cross. Behind you. Is it gold?”
Father Kimmel clasped his hands on top of his desk. “No, I think that’s probably just brass. We wouldn’t keep gold here. You know, because of the students down at the university.”
“Oh,” Natalie said.
I smiled at Father Kimmel and thought about the first time I visited him. I was maybe eleven and with my mother and Dr. Finch and we were upstairs in his private apartment in the rectory next door. The three of them went into the bedroom to discuss something, so I was alone in the living room. Because it was there, I opened his desk drawer. And that’s where I saw my first copy of Hustler magazine.
“We need some money,” Natalie said. “Can you help?”
Again, Father Kimmel cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable, like we’d just asked him to defend some church policy on abortion. “Ah, well, um,” he stammered, “how much money do you need?”
“Whatever,” Natalie said. “Enough for a movie.”
He was visibly relieved and he smiled. “Oh, well, of course. A movie, I think we can manage that.”
“And popcorn,” Natalie added.
Father Kimmel reached across to his file cabinet and grabbed the handle of the tithing basket. He poked through the money dish, extracting dollar bills.
Natalie slid her eyes to me and grinned. See? she mouthed.
I smiled back.
“How is fifteen dollars?” Father Kimmel said, offering us a stack of fifteen crumpled one-dollar bills.
“Can you make it twenty-five?”
He sighed. “Let me see here,” he said as he routed around through the dish. “Some of it’ll have to be in quarters,” he said.
“That’s fine.” When he wasn’t looking, Natalie stuck her finger on the crystal Jesus head, leaving a smudge.
“Okay, then. Twenty-five dollars with two dollars in quarters.” He poured the money into Natalie’s hands.
And then he asked, “Is everything alright at home?”
“Yeah,” Natalie shrugged. “Same as always. Anyway, we gotta go.” She stood.
Father Kimmel rose from his seat. He extended his hand to me. “It’s good to see you, Augusten. You’re a fine young man.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“And you, dear,” he said to Natalie, pursing his lips.
She leaned in so that he could kiss her cheek.
She tucked the money into her pocket and we headed for the door. As we were leaving, Father Kimmel said, “Give my best to your father, Natalie.”
“I will,” she said.
Once we were outside, we burst into a fit of laughter. “He’s such a crooked old man,” Natalie cried. “Can you believe him? Giving us money from the tithing tray so we can see a movie.”
“I can’t believe he’s a priest,” I said.
“All those poor people, forking over their precious quarters to God. Just so we can go see On Golden Pond.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “Is that out yet?”
“Yeah,” Natalie said. “I think today.”
“We have to go.”
We attempted to hitch a ride to the Mountain Farms Mall in Hadley but nobody would pick us up so we ended up walking. Along the way Natalie said, “I think I caught him looking at my tits.”
I said, “Really? Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But that’s okay. As long as we get to see a movie out of it.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know what you mean.”
OH, CHRISTMAS TREE