Sharon Creech - Absolutely Normal Chaos

Maggie’s going to go over again tomorrow so Mrs. Furtz can go to the hospital. The surprising thing is that Mr. Furtz looks like one of those real healthy types—he plays lots of golf and tennis and is always running around in his gym shorts and tennis shoes. He’s got these really long skinny legs and great big feet. Mom says she bets he’s home in a couple days and these doctors are always scaring people with tests for every little thing.

I don’t much like doctors, because they never really listen to you, but I guess it must be hard to sit there and listen to people complain all day.

I still haven’t heard from Beth Ann, and I decided I wasn’t going to call her. I’ll wait till she wants to talk to me .

Oh, I guess I better tell about Carl Ray. Dad had to call him about a thousand times this morning to get him out of bed for his first day of work, but he finally did get up. Then at dinner, when Dad asked how his job was, Carl Ray said, “Enhh.”

And surprisingly, Dad didn’t say, “Does that mean…?” Instead he said, “Well, good. I’m glad to hear it.” I think he’s getting sort of fed up with Carl Ray. Mom asked Carl Ray if someone took over for Mr. Furtz at the store while he was at the doctor’s, and Carl Ray said, “Yup,” but he never said who it was.

When I was cleaning Carl Ray’s room today, I put a can of deodorant on his dresser. Har har har. Is that mean? Well, it was just supposed to be a hint.

Good night, whoever you are out there.

Mr. Furtz is still in the hospital. He had a bunch of tests, but no results yet, and he has to have some more tests tomorrow. Maggie said that Mrs. Furtz is a wreck. I’m sure Mr. Furtz will be home soon.

No word from my best friend, Beth Ann.

Do you want to know how Carl Ray’s job went today? Well, at dinner, when Mom asked him, he said, “Ehhh.”

I examined the can of deodorant today, but I couldn’t tell if it had been used. So I added a new bar of soap to his dresser top. Har har har.

Today, in the mail, we all got our summer reading lists for school. On it are about a million books for each grade and you’re supposed to read “as many as possible,” and then take notes.

Tommy and I went to the library today. He picked out a bunch of easy-reader books (he can’t read yet, but he pretends) and a book on Eskimos (Eskimos???). I checked out two on the list: the Odyssey and Poems of Robert Frost .

I skimmed through the Odyssey and think perhaps I made a mistake getting this one. The print is so small (I hate that) and there’s all these weird names in it. Maybe I’ll try reading it tomorrow.

I read a couple poems in the Robert Frost book. Some are okay, but some are very strange, like the one in the front about a pasture. Someone is going out to the pasture and tells someone else to come along too. That’s about it, really. I wrote a poem once about a lunch box and a bologna (why is that word spelled like that?) sandwich, and I think even that was better than the one about the pasture.

The worst thing happened today.

After dinner, Mom and I were in the kitchen (Maggie was still over at the Furtzes’) and the phone rang. Mom answered it and I heard her suck in her breath and then say, “Oh, no,” and “How?” and “When?” I just knew it was some kind of bad news.

When she hung up, she ran right upstairs calling, “Sam, Sam, Sam.” My dad met her at the top of the stairs, and she said, “Oh, Sam. That new neighbor—Mr. Furtz—he’s dead .”

She told my dad that she had just talked to Maggie, who had just talked to Mrs. Furtz, who was still at the hospital and practically hysterical, so Maggie didn’t find out too much except that Mr. Furtz had been resting after some tests and he was supposed to come home tomorrow. Mrs. Furtz was waiting out in the hall while a nurse was doing something in there, and all of a sudden this light started flashing over his door and all these people started running in and out and Mrs. Furtz thought it was his roommate who was in trouble because she had just seen her husband and he was fine.

Then a nurse asked Mrs. Furtz to come down the hall with her, and they took her into a room and fifteen minutes later they told her that Mr. Furtz was dead.

He had a gigantic heart attack or something.

I just can’t believe it.

My mom and dad had only met Mr. Furtz once, but they went right over to the Furtzes’ to wait for Mrs. Furtz to come home.

I keep wondering about Cathy and Barry and little David (who is Tommy’s age). What is their mother going to tell them?

I don’t feel like writing about other stuff just now, because it doesn’t seem right. It’s scary that a person can be as healthy-looking as Mr. Furtz and then, boom, all of a sudden he isn’t here anymore. I’m glad Mrs. Furtz was visiting Mr. Furtz just before it happened. Maybe she was holding his hand or something. I don’t much like it, though, that Mrs. Furtz wasn’t in the room when all the lights started flashing. That’s probably when Mr. Furtz needed his wife the most. Maybe he wanted to tell her one last thing.

And what about Mrs. Furtz standing out there in the hallway, not expecting this to happen? And what about his children and his friends and neighbors who are just going along, doing the dishes and stuff and then all of a sudden the telephone rings and you think it’s going to be some regular person calling with some regular ole chatter, and wham, it’s the most awful news.

And I also keep wondering about my mom and dad. They seem so healthy too. Please, please, please don’t let anything happen to them.

Oh Lord, I don’t like this dead Mr. Furtz business at all .

Maggie and I went over to the Furtzes’ today to see if we could take Cathy, Barry, and David out somewhere, just to get them out of the house. About a hundred (well, maybe twenty) relatives were swarming all over. They said Mrs. Furtz had to go pick out a coffin. Can you imagine that? With your husband dead and all, they make you go pick out a coffin. How do you do that? Is there a room with a bunch of coffins and you just choose one? Do you choose one because it is pretty or because it is sturdy and won’t, sort of, leak ? What if you don’t have enough money for a good, leakproof coffin?

Cathy and Barry were up in their rooms playing Monopoly with their cousins. At first I thought it was strange that they were sitting there buying hotels and trading property when their father was dead and their mother was out shopping around for a coffin, but then I couldn’t imagine what they should be doing. Maybe crying and looking at some pictures of him or something. Cathy and Barry didn’t want to go anywhere because they wanted to finish Monopoly.

Little David Furtz was sitting at the kitchen table playing with some Play-Doh. When I asked him what he was making, he said, “Sort of a squirrel.”

I peered at it and it even looked like a squirrel, so I said, “That’s a great squirrel.”

And do you know what he said? He said, “It’s for Daddy.”

His uncle, who was sitting at the table watching David, whispered, “He doesn’t understand.”

Then David shouted, “I do too !” and he punched the little squirrel flat and ran out of the room.

Tonight, Mom said that there would be a “viewing” (of the body !) tomorrow night at DiMaggio’s Funeral Home, which is about two blocks from our house.

“Can we go?” I asked. I’ve never seen a body before. Except on TV.

Mom looked at Dad. He said, “Hmm.”