Absolutely Normal Chaos (16 page)

“Why, Mary Lou, what are you doin’?” she asked.

“Nothing. Washing windows.”

She said, “You don’t have to do that. You just set…”

“I don’t
want
to set!” I said.

“But you’re our
guest
,” she said.

“Tough,” I said.

When I finished the windows, I walked through the graveyard. It’s a strange thing, walking through a graveyard in the daytime. It’s not spooky, like it is at night. And it gives you this strange feeling: sort of a calm feeling in one way, and a very sad feeling in another way. When you’re in a graveyard, all the other stupid things like the convict and the things Sally Lynn and Sue Ann said, all those things seem ridiculous to worry about. And you wonder why you worry about them and why you let them get you so mad.

The graveyard is a pretty place, with flowers here and there, with all that grass, with those stones and the poems and sayings written on them, all about
loving memory and loving parents and loving sisters and loving brothers and time and heaven and sleep.

And I was so calm after walking around the graveyard that I lay down in the grass and fell asleep.

I dreamed a strange dream. It was about Carl Ray and some man with a sheet over his head, and Carl Ray was walking up to him in slow motion, and then he was lifting the sheet, and then the sheet was off and Carl Ray was hugging the man. And someone was calling me, “Mary LOUUU, Mary Louuuu, where are youuuu?” and then I woke up.

Aunt Radene was standing on the porch calling me.

So I went up to the house, and she said, “It’s dinnertime. Come on in.”

Boy, what a huge dinner. Fried chicken (again), mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, tomatoes, green beans, coleslaw, potato salad, and beets. Everybody was talking about how it was Carl Ray’s last night home (they didn’t mention
me
) and oh, they wished he would stay longer, and couldn’t he at least stay until Saturday, and I started to feel sick because I thought he might give in and say yes.

But then. It was time for dessert. Sally Lynn and John Roy went into the living room and came out with this huge chocolate cake and on it, in huge white letters, was “MARY LOU: WE’LL MISS YOU.”

And then everybody started talking to me all at once, and Sally Lynn said she was sorry about Booger Hill and John Roy said he was sorry about the convict and Sue Ann said she was sorry if I overheard them today (how did she know?) and that they didn’t mean it, and on and on. I thought I was going to cry, but I didn’t want to seem like a
baby
, so I chewed on my lip a lot.

That was a nice thing for them to do, don’t you think?

But still, I’m not sorry to leave and WE GO HOME TOMORROW!!!!!!!

HOORAY!!!!

Thursday, August 2

I AM HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We made it! The ship didn’t crash in the storm. Captain Carl Ray got us through. I am in my OWN room writing at my own NEW DESK. But, but, but. There’s more to tell first.

Where oh where to begin? Calm down, Mary Lou.

The trip. You can imagine, I guess, that I wasn’t real sorry to leave Aunt Radene’s, even if she did cry when she hugged me good-bye and even if Sally Lynn did give me a present (a book wrapped up in paper: it’s all about sex) and even if Aunt Radene
did hold on to Carl Ray as if she wasn’t ever going to see him again.

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 his 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.