Absolutely Normal Chaos Page 13

  One really surprising thing is that Carl Ray and I talked (yes, talked) on the way back, and I found out the most amazing things about Carl Ray.

  First, I asked him if he had ever been homesick at our house, and he said yes. So I asked him why he hadn’t said anything about being homesick, and he said, “Wouldn’t have done any good, would it?” I had to think about that. When I asked him if he would still be homesick now, he said he didn’t rightly know. “But why are you coming back, then?” He said he had some “unfinished business,” and he wouldn’t explain, but I figure he means Beth Ann.

  It took about a hundred miles of the trip to get that much out of Carl Ray. Then I asked him if Uncle Carl Joe was always mad at him.

  “Mad?” he said. “What do you mean, ‘mad’?”

  “Well, he didn’t exactly seem thrilled to see you home.”

  Carl Ray gave me one of his long, mournful looks. “He just doesn’t show it,” he said. “We had a fight.”

  “A fight?” This was interesting.

  “Before. When I was still living there. That’s why I left in such a hurry. That’s why I came to Easton.”

  “What? You didn’t come to find work? Aunt Radene said you were coming to look for work.”

  “I did look for work, didn’t I?” he said.

  “But what was the fight about?” Carl Ray gets away from the important issues very quickly.

  “Well…” He looked as if he was trying to decide whether or not he should continue. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to…”

  Oh boy, here we go again, I thought. Maggie and Beth Ann are always making me promise not to tell. And Aunt Radene asked me to keep the secret about Carl Ray. Now someone else making me promise not to tell. I can’t keep all these promises straight.

  “I promise. Now just tell me.”

  “You really can’t repeat—”

  “I promised, didn’t I? God, Carl Ray.”

  “Naw,” he said. “I can’t. Mom would kill me.”

  “Carl Ray! That’s so mean. First you make me promise. Then I promise. Now you’re not going to tell me. God.” (I was saying “God” again.)

  But he wouldn’t tell me. So I was mad for a while. Then I decided to read the Odyssey, but all of a sudden I remembered the dream in the graveyard and all of a sudden I realized that Carl Ray was Telemachus!!! I said, “I’ve been having the strangest dreams, and you’re in almost every one.”

  “Me?” He looked pleased.

  Then I told him each dream. I told him about the headless body dream and the ship in the storm dream and then the graveyard dream where he rips the sheet off of the man and starts hugging him. “I think I’ve been reading the Odyssey too much.”

  But Carl Ray had the strangest look on his face. His mouth was half open and his hands were wrapping tighter and tighter around the steering wheel.

  “What’s the matter, Carl Ray?”

  “That’s amazing,” he said.

  “What is?”

  He just sat there. I thought I was going to have to slap him or something. Then he said, “Okay. I’m gonna tell you. But you have to promise.”

  “I already promised. I am not promising again. If you don’t believe me—”

  “Okay. Okay. Here it is, then.”

  Why can’t people just say things straight out? It drives me one hundred percent cra-zeeeee when they mumble around like this.

  Ooops. Mom wants me to stop writing and talk with her.

  Later

  I’m too tired to finish this. Tomorrow. I have a lot to tell.

  Friday, August 3

  Oh, mercy. Why is everything getting so complicated? How am I ever going to catch up? How am I going to explain it?

  And where, oh where, is Alexxxxx?????

  Oh, God. I mean Alpha and Omega. Control yourself, Mary Lou. Back to the car trip home yesterday with Carl Ray.

  Right.

  Here is what Carl Ray told me when he finally decided that he could trust me. He said, “Have you ever thought your parents weren’t your parents?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I always think I’m probably adopted. Only my parents don’t want to tell me. See, they want to pretend—”

  “Well, I never thought that.”

  “That I was adopted?”

  “No. That I was adopted.”

  “Carl Ray, are you? Are you adopted? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? If that—”

  “No.”

  “No what? Carl Ray, just spit it out. Just spit it right out!!!” I was getting that exploding feeling again.

  “I’m trying to. You know that fight I mentioned? The one with my father? Well. This is what it was about.”

  He talks so slowly! He pauses after every couple of words.

  “One day my mother told me that my father was not my father, and then I went sort of crazy and left home—I was staying with some friends—and I didn’t want to talk to my father—my Carl Joe one—at all. Because he wasn’t my real father. Don’t you think they should have told me that a long time ago? Don’t you think they should have let me find my real father?”

  “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. Your father is not your father? Did she tell you who your father is? Your real father?”

  He said, “Yup.”

  “Wow. So who is it?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “CARL RAY, YOU IMBECILE.”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “You can’t make me promise and then not tell, and then tell, but only tell part. You just can’t do that.”

  “But my mother would KILL me—”

  “I don’t care, Carl Ray. I don’t care.”

  I thought we were going to have an accident, because right about then, the car in front put on its brake lights and I had to scream at Carl Ray and he jammed on the brakes and just missed that car by about six inches.

  “So,” I said, when we calmed down from almost being killed, “tell me who it is. Spit it out.”

  “I’m not saying a word,” he said. “I promised my mother that I wouldn’t tell anyone who it was until…”

  “Until what?”

  “Until I talk with someone.”

  “Who?” I said. “Is it your real father? Is that who? Is that who you have to talk to first?”

  Carl Ray drove and drove and drove. And just before we pulled in our driveway, Carl Ray made me promise (again!!!) not to say anything to anyone under any circumstances. I said, “What about Alex? Not even to Alex?” and he said, “No!” so I promised, but I’m not sure I can keep that promise.

  So we got HOME. Finally. Everybody was eating dinner and they were so surprised because they didn’t expect us until Friday and they were hopping all around and talking all at once.

  Dennis and Dougie were going on about some presents, Maggie was going on about Beth Ann calling all the time, Tommy was going on about a tractor, and Mom and Dad were going on about Mrs. Furtz.

  The bit about the presents was this: During the week that we were gone, boxes started arriving—a lawn mower for Dad, a bicycle for Dougie, a kiddie tractor for Tommy, ice skates for Dennis, a coat for Maggie, and a coat for Mom. Then something for me.

  “For me? Where is it?”

  They said it was in my room. I went racing upstairs. There, in my room, was this rolltop desk with a million little cubbyholes for paper, pens, and all that stuff. I was never so surprised in my whole life.

  Everybody knew it was Carl Ray. We were all hugging him and thanking him. Boy, did he look embarrassed.

  How about that Carl Ray?

  Next, the bit about Beth Ann: Maggie said that Beth Ann must have called thirty times, and Carl Ray better hurry up and call her before she explodes.

  Everybody thought that was real funny—except Carl Ray, that is.

  Mom said that on the day we left (last Friday), Mrs. Furtz came over. She was a basket case. She said that she had to see Carl Ray, but they explained that we had left. She wanted h
is phone number. They explained about the phone.

  Mrs. Furtz said she had to talk to Carl Ray about the ring. Carl Ray gave me a sick look when they said this, but he said he would go over there tomorrow (which is today, but I’ll tell about that later).

  Boy, what an exciting evening. But most of all, it was so wonderful to be HOME. I know how Odysseus must have felt.

  When things quieted down a little, I phoned Alex. I was dying to talk to him and surprise him, because he wasn’t expecting me until tomorrow. But there was no answer. I called about ten times last night and ten times today. Where IS he? He was supposed to be home on Tuesday. I can’t stand it. If I don’t see him pretty soon, I’m going to burst. Calm down, Mary Lou. Maybe his family decided to stay longer in Michigan. Maybe they got in an accident. Oh, Lord. Calm down, Mary Lou.

  I just tried phoning again. NO ANSWER. Oh, Alpha and Omega!

  Calm down.

  Beth Ann. I will talk about Beth Ann to get my mind off Alex. Carl Ray called her last night and went over to her house (after he put on a ton of Canoe). She called today, but Carl Ray was over at Mrs. Furtz’s, only I didn’t tell her that. I just said he was out. Then she went on and on for hours about how much she had missed him and how wonderful it is to have him back, only he seems tired and sad, she said, and on and on, and did he miss her, and what did he say, and on and on. I made a bunch of stuff up.

  She didn’t say one word about missing me. Friendship, boy.

  She did say, however, that she went to the GGP pajama party and that it was “fine,” but she “couldn’t really say” what she did there. (She’s starting to sound just like Carl Ray.)

  “What do you mean, you can’t really say? Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh,” she said, “I remember. Only I can’t say.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Pause. Pause.

  “Why not, Beth Ann?” She can be a real pain sometimes.

  Pause. Pause. Pause.

  I was about to hang up the stupid phone.

  “Promise not to get mad?” she said.

  ANOTHER ROTTEN STUPID PROMISE! I almost threw the phone out of the window.

  Quite calmly, I said, “I promise not to get mad, Beth Ann.”

  Pause. “Well,” she started, “I’ve been voted into GGP…”

  I felt my teeth gnashing together.

  “…and, oh please don’t be mad, Mary Lou, but I accepted their invitation to join, and I can’t tell about the pajama party because it is supposed to be secret.”

  “What? A pajama party is secret?” Gnash. Gnash.

  “Mary Lou, you promised not to get mad—”

  “I am NOT mad,” I said, and I hung up the stupid phone. Honestly.

  I will change the subject. I will not waste any more paper on Beth Ann Bartels.

  I showed Maggie the book that Sally Lynn gave me about sex and she seemed extremely interested in it. I let her borrow it. I’ve already looked through the good parts. It’s a little advanced, I think, for me. It’s probably a little advanced even for my parents.

  WHERE IS ALEXXX??? (I just phoned again: no answer. Groan.)

  Mrs. Furtz. Tell about Mrs. Furtz. Okay.

  Carl Ray looked really pathetic when he got back from seeing Mrs. Furtz today. He said she wanted to know where he got the ring.

  I’ve been wondering about that myself. “So?” I said. “Where did you get it? And if you’re going to ask me to promise not to tell, I am gonna blast you one.”

  “I told her that Mr. Furtz gave it to me before he went into the hospital that day.”

  “WHAT??? Are you saying Mr. Furtz gave you that ring? The one you turned around and gave back to Mrs. Furtz? Is that what you’re saying here? Could you tell me exactly why it is that everybody’s always giving you things, Carl Ray? Could you please tell me that? You hardly knew Mr. Furtz. You worked for him—what—a day? A lousy day? And he gives you a ring? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  I would not make a very good detective. I would want to beat the information out of people. Which is what I felt like doing right then to Carl Ray. I am so impatient.

  “Why, Carl Ray? Why did he give it to you?”

  “Look, Mary Lou. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay? I have to go think awhile. I promise I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  Oh brother. He’d better tell me or I’m going to kill him.

  Just phoned Alex again. No answer. Groannnn. I’m going to bed. Please let him be home tomorrow, Athene, please.

  Saturday, August 4

  Oh, King of Kings and Alpha and Omega! I am definitely going to go cra-zeeee.

  First of all, that beefbrained Beth Ann. She called here four times this morning wanting to talk to Carl Ray. The first two times I said he was still in bed and I wasn’t going to wake him up. The third time she begged and moaned, so I went up to wake him, and he wasn’t there! So I told her that and she wanted to know where he was.

  I said, “I’m not my brother’s keeper, Beth Ann.”

  She said, “He’s not your stupid brother, Mary Lou.”

  She called again an hour later and wanted to know if he was back yet. I said, “Nope.” She wanted to know when he would be back.

  I said, “I’m not my brother’s k—”

  Then Carl Ray came home. I told him about besotted Beth Ann. He said he’d call her later. I said, “Good for you, Carl Ray.” I was glad he didn’t go rushing to the phone.

  Then I asked him if he’d drive me to the drugstore. I didn’t have to go to the drugstore, but I knew that was the only way I was going to get him alone so he could tell me the rest of the story about the ring.

  I should mention, however, that before Carl Ray came home, I called Alex again. He wasn’t home. I’m going to die.

  So Carl Ray and I got in the car.

  “Okay,” I said, “finish your story, and don’t give me any business about ‘What story?’ You know exactly what I mean. About Mrs. Furtz. She wanted to know where you got the stupid ring and you told her that Mr. Furtz gave it to you, and I asked why, and you didn’t answer. And by the way, I want to know exactly why you came here to Easton and exactly who your father is. I want to know it all, Carl Ray.”

  He gave me one of those mournful looks. “I came here because my mother said that my father—the real one—lived here in Easton.”

  “In Easton? God! Easton?” I was trying to think of everybody I knew who was old enough to be Carl Ray’s father. I had this horrible thought that what if it was my father? That was too horrible to even think about. Then I thought of Mr. Furtz, but Mr. Furtz was dead and, besides, he didn’t even know Carl Ray until Carl Ray got a job at the hardware store. Then I thought of Mr. Cheevey, for some reason, and as soon as I thought of Mr. Cheevey, I thought, Of course! Mr. Cheevey has those long arms and those long legs and that skinny body and that little bitty head and those freckles. Boy, have I been stupid! All that other stuff—the money and the college education—must have come from his real father. Of course! Mr. Cheevey has lots of money. But eck—Alex and Carl Ray as brothers? Eck. I said, “WHO IS IT? WHO IS YOUR FATHER?”

  “You don’t have to yell.”

  “I DO! I DO! I DO!” I stopped. I counted to twenty. I breathed deeply. “Okay, Carl Ray,” I said, in this very sweet and soft voice. “Did you find your father here in Easton?”

  He nodded.

  Softly, sweetly, I said, “Who is it, Carl Ray?”

  He looked all mournful. “I have to do one more thing first, and then I’ll tell you.”

  Aargh. “And when might that be? I am only asking for an approximate time. Tomorrow? Wednesday? Next week? Next year? In ten years?”

  “Pretty soon.”

  “Very good. Very good indeed, Carl Ray. Thank you for telling me all of this.” Sometimes when you talk with Carl Ray for a while, you begin to lose your marbles and talk like an idiot.

  Sunday, August 5

  Oh, King of Kings!

  Alex is home!
Finally! Sigh.

  I haven’t seen him yet. I called and called his house all day and was just about to expire from despair because no one was home, no answer, no nothing.

  And then, after dinner, he called. They made a “side trip” to visit some old friend of his father’s and that’s why they didn’t get back on Tuesday. He’s fine, he missed me, and he wants me to go over there tomorrow. Maybe Carl Ray will drive me over. I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow night. God, I’m hopeless.

  Right after I finished talking to Alex, the phone rang and Maggie answered it, and she said it was for Carl Ray. He mainly listened, and every once in a while he would say, “Yup,” and “Okay.” I knew it wasn’t Beth Ann, because when he’s talking to her on the phone, he messes with his hair.

  When he hung up, I said, “So, who was it?”

  He said, “Just somebody. Nothin’ important.”

  Honestly. People. I didn’t even ask him about any of his secrets. I think the trick with Carl Ray is that you have to give him a little time. You have to be patient. I am going to learn to be more patient.

  Monday, August 6

  Oh, Deity, Omnipotent, Alpha and Omega, King of Kings and Supreme Being!!!!

  You won’t believe it.

  You really won’t.

  But then again, maybe you will. Maybe you haven’t been as stupid as I have been.

  Calm down, Mary Lou. Tell it from the beginning.

  First of all, while Carl Ray was at work today, the mail came and there was a letter for Carl Ray from Aunt Radene. I kept looking at that letter. I held it to the light but couldn’t see anything at all. Then I examined the flap to see if it would open easily. Stuck down tighter than anything. I thought about trying to steam it open, but the last time I did that (with one of Maggie’s letters) I burned my hand, and it didn’t work anyway, and Maggie could tell someone had been trying to get her letter open and she went berserk.

  So I had to wait.

  As soon as Carl Ray got home, I gave him the letter. Then I stood there while he looked at it. He didn’t open it. He started up to his room. I said, “It’s from your mother.”