Mrs. Cheevey said, “Sit down, sit down, sit down,” and she motioned us to the antique side of the room. We sat down. “Oh,” she said, “I just love it, love it, love it, when Alex brings someone home!” Then she started calling for her husband, “Oh, Ralph, Ralph, Ralph.”
Pretty soon Ralph came in. Wow! He is about seven feet tall, about as tall and skinny as anyone I have ever met. First I saw his feet coming down the stairs, and they were e-nor-mous. He wore gigantic leather sandals. Then I saw his legs coming down the stairs. He wore blue jeans, and his legs just kept coming and coming. I didn’t think there was a body attached. Then I saw hands and arms hanging down; these long, swinging things in a red plaid shirt. Pretty soon a long neck and then, surprisingly, a rather small head. I was glad that it was a small head, because I was beginning to think a giant was coming down the steps. His face is pale and freckled and he has brown hair.
He stepped into the room. “Oh, Ralph, Ralph, Ralph,” Mrs. Cheevey said, “this is Mary Lou!!” He nodded, but before he moved any farther, he motioned to the other side of the room with his hand. Alex and Mrs. Cheevey automatically got up, so I did too, and then we all went and sat on the other side of the room.
But as soon as we sat down, Mrs. Cheevey jumped back up and left the room. Mr. Cheevey said, “Son,” (I liked that, the way he said “son,” so formal and all), “do you and Mary Lou have plans for this evening?”
Alex said, “Yuh.”
Then Mrs. Cheevey came rushing back in the room with a plate of oysters! Ugh. I’d never eaten oysters, and I didn’t really feel like starting today, but it didn’t look like I had any choice. She balanced the plate of oysters on two of the waves of the noodlelike table and went rushing out again. Then she came back in with some purple napkins (cloth) and handed us each one and sat down. Then she got back up and passed the plate of oysters around.
We had each swallowed one oyster when Mrs. Cheevey jumped up again and said, “Oh! Ralph, Ralph, Ralph! The time. It’s so late, late, late.” She was already up and halfway out of the room.
Alex said, “Well, I’m glad you got to meet—”
Mr. Cheevey stood up. “Mary Lou Finney,” he said, and put out his hand, and I quickly wiped off the oyster juice on my purple napkin and put my hand out and he gently crushed all my fingers in his enormous hand.
Already Mrs. Cheevey was back, carrying a green parka, which she put over her shoulders. She was still wearing the black cocktail dress, pearls, baseball hat, and tennis shoes. Mr. Cheevey was still wearing his jeans and plaid shirt and sandals. They left. Dressed like that, they left.
Alex said, “They’re really nice, honest, once you get to know them.”
“Wow,” I said.
Alex and I were alone in his house. I started examining all the things on the walls—the pig’s head and the shelf with all the pebbles on it and the big pair of red lips with the gum sticking out the center. Can you imagine practicing kissing on those huge lips?!! I think Alex was more nervous than I was, because he was shuffling all around. We did try sitting on the long, white couch, but we felt pretty silly sitting there on that huge couch in the middle of that enormous room, so finally Alex suggested we go to the Tast-ee Freeze. It was a relief, to tell you the truth. And then, just to show you that it must be true about the quiet, romantic places not being all that they are cracked up to be, wouldn’t you know it, when we got out on the street and were passing Artie’s Automotive, that’s when he put his arm on my shoulder again!
Here is something for my manuaclass="underline" When the guy puts his arm around the girl while walking along, the girl might find it more comfortable to also put her arm around him at this time. She can put it sort of across his back. It is a little difficult to walk this way, and you won’t want to walk very far like this, but it’s a neat thing to do. The girl will find it difficult to think of things to say during this time, but the boy will carry on about something or other (basketball, for example), and the girl can get by with saying, “Mmm” or “Ah” or “Oh?” This way she can concentrate primarily on not tripping.
When other people do these things, it looks so easy. Don’t let that fool you.
Enough!
I leave for West Virginia with Carl Ray the day after tomorrow. Groannnn.
Book Twelve of the Odyssey: Wow! What an action-packed chapter. First, Odysseus and his men pass by the Sirens, who bewitch everyone who comes near them with their singing. Clever Odysseus blocks up his men’s ears with wax. He wants to listen, though, so he has his men tie him up to the mast and orders them not to untie him, no matter how hard he might beg.
If this is a metaphor, I think that the Sirens represent sexy women who tempt men (like Eve with Adam?). I don’t think I am a Siren yet. I can hardly speak when I am with Alex, let alone sing!
Then Odysseus’s ship has to go between these two dangerous obstacles: One is Scylla, a horrible monster with twelve feet and six necks and six heads and three rows of teeth in each head, and she eats men from ships. The other obstacle is Charybdis, a whirlpool that sucks up whole ships. Odysseus can’t get through without going close to one, but finally he decides to risk Scylla. Scylla snatches up about six of Odysseus’s men and eats them up. I think that maybe Scylla and Charybdis represent two difficult choices, and that you have to take the choice that offers least harm. Maybe? Does that sound right?
Ohhhhh, I have to leave tomorrow to go with beefbrained ole besotted Carl Ray.
And Beth Ann has been calling here all day, going on and on about how she can’t bear to be apart from him and how I should remind him every day about, her and on and on and on.
And Alex and I spent about four hours together at the park. We played tennis. It sure is a lot more fun playing tennis with Alex than with Beth Ann.
Alex pays attention and says things like “Great shot!” (about my shot, not his; Beth Ann would say it about her own) and “Whoa!” (if I zing one past him, which I can occasionally do), and he generally gives the impression that he is having a terrific time. We laugh if one of us “whiffs” the ball (that’s what Alex calls it when you swing and miss), whereas with Beth Ann you have to pretend not to notice when she misses—and if you miss, she puts on this phony frown as if she feels so enormously sorry for you.
We were too sweaty to hold hands or anything afterward, but on the way home he said he would think about me a lot while he was gone and I said (yes, I actually got some mushy words out) that I would think about him a lot while I was gone. Oh sighhhh.
Is there such a thing as being too happy? It makes me feel a little guilty, especially when there are people like Mrs. Furtz who are feeling so awful. Speaking of Mrs. Furtz, the strangest thing happened tonight. Right after dinner, before Alex arrived, Mrs. Furtz came over. Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table, I was washing the dishes, and Carl Ray was rummaging around in the refrigerator.
Mrs. Furtz looks terrible lately. I bet she hasn’t combed her hair in a week, and she was wearing this old sweatshirt and a pair of baggy pants and crummy old shoes. You could tell she’d been crying. She sat down at the table with my parents and started sniffling.
Carl Ray stood there staring at Mrs. Furtz with this really sorrowful look on his face and then all of a sudden he left the room, and about two minutes later, he came downstairs with a tissue-wrapped package in his hand. He went right up to Mrs. Furtz and handed it to her. She looked at him strangely, and Carl Ray said, “For you,” and then he went outside and got in his car and drove away!