Running With Scissors_ A Memoir - Augusten Burroughs [97]
Natalie gave her a five and I felt consumed with envy. She had so many more fives than I did. The balance had shifted. She was more powerful now.
“Here,” Natalie said as we walked away.
We sat on a blue plastic bench near the window, watching the people who were looking for whales.
“Look at that old man,” Natalie said, motioning with her head. “Isn’t that sad?”
“What’s sad about him?”
“Well, you know, just some old man all alone. God, I hope I don’t end up alone like that. Some pathetic old woman with nobody to go on a whale watch with.”
“Oh, you won’t,” I said, swallowing. “You’ll marry some Smith professor.”
“Yeah, right,” Natalie said. “If I’m lucky I’ll marry a Smith janitor.”
The boat heaved from side to side, something I hadn’t noticed when we were standing outside. But now the sea was framed by the windows and the earth outside looked like it was drunk. “Do you ever get seasick?” I said.
Natalie belched. “Oh my God, excuse me,” she giggled, still capable of finding burps and farts hysterical. A charming quality in a way.
“Do you?”
“Do I what? Get seasick? No. I don’t think so. Just bored.”
“You’re bored?”
“Kind of. There’s nothing to do out here. When we get back to shore, you wanna get lobsters?”
“Yeah.”
“Sea roaches. That’s what lobsters are. Roaches of the sea.”
“Like tuna, the chicken of the sea.”
“Chicken’s a biological reptile, you know,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that biologically, chicken is a reptile. Instead of scales, they have feathers. But they both come from eggs.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Shit. I wish I’d remembered to bring my earrings.” She touched her earlobe. “I hate it when I forget something. I don’t ever want to forget anything.”
“Remember it all.”
“Yes,” she said.
* * *
The Lobster Pot was touristy. The sign was a giant plastic red lobster wearing a bib. It was our kind of place.
“You need shoes,” the waitress said when we walked in the door. She had frazzled blond hair with long dark roots. Her lips were wrinkled. She looked twenty going on fifty.
“We lost them,” Natalie said.
I moved behind Natalie slightly. She was better than me at pulverizing her way through normalcy.
“Look guys,” the waitress said, eyes darting across the room to check her tables, “I’m not allowed to serve you without shoes. You have to wear shoes here. It’s like the law or whatever.”
I watched a small boy at one of the tables frown at his father and sulk into the back of the booth. The father pointed at a napkin on the table; the boy shook his head no.
“Look, we’ll just sit down and nobody will notice,” Natalie said. “We’ll give you a big tip.”
The waitress was being mentally tugged away by her tables. People wanted water and butter and extra napkins and their checks. “Okay, fine. Just sit down.”
Natalie turned to me and smiled. “See?”
It was like her McUniform had given her some sort of authority. “It would have been a bummer if they didn’t let us in.”
“No shit,” she said, straightening her shirt.
We had taken our shoes off in the motel and decided not to put them back on. They felt confining.
We took a booth near the door. I slid in first and then Natalie slid in on the same side. “Hey,” I said. “Go sit on the other side.”
“I wanna sit here.” She looked at me and fluttered her eyelashes. “Next to you, my honey.”
I shoved her. “C’mon, Natalie, there’s not enough room. Move.”
She slid up against me and pressed. I hated it when she got like that. She was in her fat mood. When she gets into a fat mood, she just wants to sit on everything. I laughed so that I didn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d pissed me off. “C’mon, move your ass to the other side and let’s order.”
She sighed dramatically. “Fine. Snobby Augusten doesn’t want to sit next to his best friend in the whole world, Piggy Natalie.” She slid out of the booth and sat across from me and I felt relief. Then I felt depressed because she was all the way across the table. “Come back and sit over here.”
She leapt up, smacking the tops of her thighs on the underside of the table,