Sharon Creech - Absolutely Normal Chaos

“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.

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

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.)