Mom and Dad looked so surprised and Mrs. Furtz kept staring at the tissue and I was wondering what in the world had happened to Carl Ray’s mind. Finally, Mrs. Furtz opened it. Sure enough, it was the ring from Carl Ray’s drawer. I leaned over and said, “Where’s the card?” and they all looked at me. Carl Ray had taken the card out. “Oh,” I said, “I just thought there’d be a card.”
Then Mrs. Furtz started sobbing and Mom started patting her on the back and Dad went to get a box of Kleenex, and that’s when Alex came to the door.
Now what would make Carl Ray do something like that? Why would he give Mrs. Furtz his father’s ring? He’s just full of surprises.
When I got home tonight, Dad was talking to Carl Ray and asking him if maybe he didn’t want to reconsider and take the ring back, that it was a very nice gesture and that Mrs. Furtz was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak, but Carl Ray might regret his impulse, and if so, everybody would understand and Dad was sure that Mrs. Furtz would give the ring back.
When Dad was done with his little speech, Carl Ray just said, “Nope,” and went to bed.
Oh, Alpha and Omega!
Oh, Deity! I’m here at Aunt Radene’s in West Virginia and there is no light in the bedroom and I’m trying to write by the moonlight. I feel like Abraham Lincoln. I can’t see hardly anything. I’ll have to write tomorrow in the daytime. Oh, I miss home and Alex!!!
Oh, King of Kings, what a day yesterday was and what a day today is turning out to be.
Right now, I’m sitting on Aunt Radene’s and Uncle Carl Joe’s front porch on this great red wooden swing that’s screwed into the ceiling of the porch. Down in front of me is a hill and on it is the graveyard. Spooooky.
I’ll start with yesterday.
Carl Ray and I left home about noon. I was in charge of the map and he was in charge of the driving. Boy, Carl Ray drives like a maniac!! I was fearing for my life the whole time. He speeds along at about ninety miles an hour and swerves around cars to pass them and never uses his turn signals and he hates to stop. I had to beg him, after about four hours, to please stop so I could go to the bathroom.
We didn’t talk hardly at all, thank goodness. I brought along the Odyssey and pretended to be engrossed in that. Every now and then he would ask me what part I was on, and when I told him he would say, “Oh, yeah, I liked that part,” or “Oh, that’s a good part.” He really knows that book. I think he must have memorized it or something.
Anyway, we only got lost once, and we finally arrived at Aunt Radene’s at nine o’clock. Aunt Radene and all of Carl Ray’s brothers and sisters (Arvie Joe, John Roy, Lee Bob, Sue Ann, Sally Lynn, and Brenda Mae—everybody has two names, like me) were waiting on the porch and started jumping up and down and waving and acting like lunatics. The only one who wasn’t there was Uncle Carl Joe. At first I thought it was kind of nice, such a great reception and all, but then when we got out of the car, everyone jumped all over Carl Ray and started hugging him and messing his hair, and I realized they weren’t at all excited to see me.
After about an hour of that, Aunt Radene finally noticed me standing there looking like an idiot, and she came over and hugged me and then everyone else did too, so it was about another half hour of people messing up my hair. They’re sure a happy bunch.
Then we had to go in and eat dinner. Aunt Radene said, “Gosh, we’re starving to death. We usually eat up at five, but we were waitin’ on you all. Gosh, I’m as happy as a pumpkin in a patch to see you.” That’s just the way she talks, honest, I’m not making it up.
Uncle Carl Joe was already sitting at the kitchen table. He glanced up when Carl Ray came in, and everybody went all quiet and stared at the two of them. Then Carl Ray said, “Hey,” and Uncle Carl Joe nodded, very soberly, and everybody started crowding around the table. It was pretty easy to tell that Carl Ray and his father were not on the best of terms.
About three tons of food was spread on the table: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, bread, green beans, squash, biscuits, tomatoes, corn, and peaches. Then for dessert: pecan pie and apple pie and molasses pie. For a family that seems poor as anything (like I said, no electricity and no plumbing and the house looks as if it hasn’t been painted in about two hundred years), they sure have a lot of food on the table. I don’t know how in the world Carl Ray was so skinny when he first came to our house.
Carl Ray had about ten helpings of food, which was a little embarrassing because he made it look like we never feed him.
Everyone kept asking Carl Ray what it was like in “The City” and I kept trying to say it isn’t a city that we live in. Easton is just a little suburb; it’s about ten miles from a big city. But they kept on and on about The City, asking him how many murders he’d seen and how many times he’d been held up by robbers and all that kind of sum and substance. Honestly.
They also kept asking Carl Ray about his car, and I thought he’d tell them about the money and the college education, but you could tell he was saving it for another time, because he looked real embarrassed whenever they mentioned it. They kept saying things like “You sure must make a lot of money in The City,” and “Wow, Carl Ray, you’re gonna be a millionaire,” and on and on. It was as if he didn’t want to tell them about the money.
Uncle Carl Joe didn’t say a word.
Then, about ten thirty, when we had finished eating, everybody got up and Aunt Radene said, “Best turn in; we can chaw on and on tomorrow.” And in about ten minutes everybody was in bed, except for Sue Ann and Sally Lynn, who were doing the dishes. I did ask if I could help, but they said no, so I just went to bed. I was really tired and also feeling really homesick for everybody.
I wonder if Carl Ray felt this way when he came to stay with us. How did he stand it? Everybody’s so nice to him here, and he’s lapping it up like a little dog. And they’re all looking at me as if I’m the strange one, and I can hardly get a word in, not that I would know what to say if I did get the chance. So I don’t say too much—just like Carl Ray at our house. It makes you think, doesn’t it?
It’s a little hard to get used to how primitive this place is. I still haven’t gone to the bathroom. I did walk out to the outhouse.
Oh, Supreme Being! I’d forgotten just how awful that outhouse is. It’s so dark inside. The only light that can get in is a little sunlight from a hole cut high up one wall. But also through that hole come flies and wasps and creepy spiders. There are spiderwebs in all the corners. I don’t even want to mention the smell. Arghhhh. I’ll wait until I am absolutely desperate before I go in there. Maybe Carl Ray was as afraid of our bathroom as I am of his. Maybe he was used to all this back-to-nature sum and substance.
I’m back on the porch swing. I’ve been sitting here most of the day writing letters. Everybody else has been rushing around doing chores, and whenever I ask if I can help, they say, “Naw, you just set awhile.”
I’m getting tired of “setting awhile.”
I think Aunt Radene has the flu.
She did make dinner tonight though. We had fried chicken (again, because it’s Carl Ray’s favorite), gravy, boiled potatoes, corn on the cob, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and fried peppers. Then for dessert we had chocolate pudding with whipped cream and also cherry Jell-O with bits of peaches inside.