Sharon Creech - Absolutely Normal Chaos

“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.

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.

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.

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.