Running With Scissors_ A Memoir Part 4

Natalie rolled her eyes and turned to me. "We might as well, there's nothing better to do."

It was hopeless to protest. Although I hadn't known Vickie and Natalie for very long, I had already learned that I had no control over anything that happened when I was around them. Once, at the doctor's office, they opened the window and threw sardines down at people on the street. They would have thrown the coffeemaker out the window too, if Hope hadn't stopped them just in time.

Gene Rayburn placed his hand on the contestant's shoulder in a consoling fas.h.i.+on and I got up off the sofa and followed Vickie and Natalie into the hallway.

Vickie turned on the light. It was a bare bulb, attached to a gilt bronze fixture bolted to the wall. The walls in the hallway were covered with brown burlap. I found the burlap a fascinating and original wall treatment, and I didn't mind at all that it was ancient, peeling and dusty.

"Whoa, look at this motherf.u.c.king thing," Vickie said as she dragged the box out from under the stairs.

Natalie kicked it gently as if to check for signs of life.

I leaned forward and peered into the box. It resembled my father's shortwave radio, except it had wires coming out of it. And two large dials. "It's weird," I said, intrigued.

"Help me carry it," Vickie ordered, bending over.

Natalie and I both leaned over and took the other end. Although Natalie could easily have done it herself, I felt I had to help her, to be useful. We carried it back into the TV room and set it on the floor in front of the couch.

"Now what?" Natalie said.

I absently brushed at the front of my dress slacks.

"Okay now, you guys. We gotta set it up. So Augusten, you're the patient and Natalie, you're the nurse."

"I'm not gonna be any c.u.n.t-licking nurse," Natalie snapped.

"Well you sure-as-s.h.i.+t are not not gonna be the doctor." gonna be the doctor."

"I'll be the patient. He'll He'll be the nurse," Natalie said. be the nurse," Natalie said.

I felt my face flush, both horrified and certain that I would be the nurse. "I'll be the nurse," I said, just wanting to get on with it. "I don't care. Let's just start."

"Nursy," Natalie teased.

"Should I take this off?" I said, meaning my navy blazer that I had worn because I was visiting a doctor's house.

Vickie scowled. "That thing is so queer. You should just chuck it."

"Why are you always so dressed up anyway?" Natalie said.

"I don't know," I said. I was instantly mortified and slipped the blazer off, tossing it carelessly onto the wing chair.

Natalie dove onto the sofa, stomach-first, then turned on her back. Her arm hung off the couch and the back of her hand touched the floor. "What's wrong with me then?"

"Here," Vickie said, lifting up the machine.

I picked up the other end and we hoisted it out of the box.

"What's wrong with me?" Natalie, cried louder.

We set the machine on the floor and Vickie kicked the box out of the way. It knocked against the TV. "You're psychotic," she said.

Natalie grinned. "Okay, I can be psychotic. I'm a paranoid schizophrenic." She fluttered her eyelashes. "Just like Dottie Schmitt.

Vickie made a face. "Oh, G.o.d. She's disgusting. Did you know she's so filthy that Agnes has to peel her bra off for her?"

Natalie gasped. "Where did you hear that?"

"It's true, Agnes told me herself."

"Who's Dottie?" I said.

"And then Agnes has to scrub under her t.i.ts with a sponge to get rid of all the sc.u.m." Vickie shrieked, grossing herself out.

They laughed.

"Who is she?" I said again.

"She's one of Dad's crazy patients," Natalie said. "You'll meet her."

I will? I thought. I thought. Why? Why?

This is when Poo Bear ran into the room, naked and shrieking. Poo was about six years old, the son of Vickie and Natalie's older sister Anne. His small p.e.n.i.s jiggled and his laughing mouth was ringed with purple jam.

"Hey, Poo," Vickie cooed at her little nephew.

"Poo Bear," Natalie said, sitting up. "What's a doin', pooin'?"

He paused in front of the TV and slapped his arms against his side. "I'm a can opener," he said.

I could smell his feet from across the room.

"You're a can opener?" Natalie said tenderly. "That is soooooo cute."

"What's that?" he said, pointing to the machine.

Vickie said,"That's Dad's old shock therapy machine. We're fooling around with it. Wanna play?"

He smiled shyly and grabbed his little p.e.n.i.s with his hand. "I dunno."

"C'mon, Poo. You'll have fun. You won't get hurt, I promise," Natalie said.

"Yeah, you watch us first, then you can play. Okay? Just watch," Vickie said.

Natalie lay back on the sofa and closed her eyes. "Ready," she said.

Vickie then kneeled in front of the sofa. Gently, she picked up a wire and arranged it around Natalie's head. She placed the end of the wire against Natalie's ear. She tucked another wire under Natalie's neck. Then she pretended to plug the machine in by stuffing the cord under the sofa. Next she placed her hand on the dial. "Nurse," she called. placed her hand on the dial. "Nurse," she called.

"Okay," I said.

"Come here,"

I kneeled down next to her. "What should I do?"

"The patient may scream, so you'll need to place the bite guard in her mouth."

"Okay, where's that?"

"Just use a pencil," Natalie said, looking up.

"Shhhhh," Vickie scolded. "You can't talk."

Natalie closed her eyes again and opened her mouth.

I reached over to the table beside the sofa and grabbed a pen. "Will this work?"

"Yeah," Vickie said.

I placed it in Natalie's mouth and she clamped down on it.

"Okay, Nurse. Are we ready?"

"Yes, Doctor," I said.

Vickie turned the dial on the machine. "I'm now giving you one million volts."

Natalie convulsed, her whole body trembling. She opened her eyes and rolled them back in her head. She screamed over the pen.

Vickie laughed. "That's good, that's good." The wire under Natalie's neck slipped out and Vickie tucked it back in. "Nurse, increase the voltage," she said.

I reached over and turned the dial. "Okay, it's all the way up," I said.

Natalie shook violently.

"She's repressing a memory," Vickie said. "We need to go deep into her subconscious mind."

Natalie screamed louder and the pen flew out. She was shaking with such force that I was worried she'd really hurt herself. shaking with such force that I was worried she'd really hurt herself.

Poo Bear burst into tears and ran from the room.

Natalie stopped.

Vickie laughed.

Poo Bear disappeared down the hall, his cries of terror growing fainter as he ran deeper into the house.

"Woops," Natalie said. She was sweating and red-faced.

"We better get him," Vickie said.

They ran out of the room, chasing after Poo.

I glanced at the TV, a commercial for Herbal Essence. And then I ran after them.

Poo Bear was squatting beneath the grand piano in the living room. His eyes were squeezed closed. He was s.h.i.+tting.

I froze.

Vickie and Natalie sat on the sofa across from the piano. They sat side by side, hands in their laps, like they were watching him do scales.

"Oh," I said. "Sorry."

Poo Bear pinched a t.u.r.d out on the bright blue wall-to-wall carpeting and Vickie and Natalie clapped.

"Way to go, Poo," Vickie cheered.

Natalie giggled. She slapped her knees.

Poo Bear opened his eyes and looked at me. He grinned with his grape jelly mouth. "Poo can poo," he said.

I looked at Vickie and Natalie. "Have you seen my mother?"

"She's in the kitchen," Natalie said. I started to leave, but she added warningly, "With my dad."

"Well, I just have to ask her one thing, really quick."

She watched as Poo brought his finger to his nose and sniffed.

I backed out of the room and walked down the hall. The old Victorian had many rooms and many hallways; two stairways and so many doors that it was easy to get lost. But the kitchen was easy-just straight back at the end of the house.

My mother was sitting at the kitchen table, which was piled high with dirty dishes caked with food. She was smoking a cigarette.

"Mom?"

She turned to me, opening her arms. "Augusten."

I hugged her. I loved her smell, Chanel No. 5 and nicotine. "How much longer are we gonna stay? I wanna go home."

She hugged me closer and stroked the back of my head with her hand.

I pulled away. "Are we gonna go soon?"

She picked her cigarette from the rim of a plate on the table and sucked the smoke into her lungs. When she spoke, her words came out smoking. "Dr. Finch is saving our lives, Augusten. It's important that we be here now."

In the distance, I heard Poo Bear laugh.

She took another drag from her cigarette, then plopped it into what was left of a gla.s.s of milk. "I know this is all new for you and it's very confusing. But this is a safe place. This is where we need to be. Right here in the doctor's own home, with his family."

Her eyes looked different. Wider, somehow. Not her own. They scared me. So did the roaches scrambling across the table, over the dishes, up the arm of a spatula.