Chapter 7 Gently Used Animal Carcasses
Gently Used Animal Carcasses
Fourteen Years Ago
Dear Charlotte Beekman,
We’re reading Persuasion in English, and Mr. Farley gave us this assignment today where we can write a letter to anyone we want, but we have to do it while he STARES DIRECTLY AT US.
He says he’s not going to read them, so I could do another song ranking, but I wrote your name without thinking and I know you’d rather get a letter since you probably haven’t recovered from my most recent ranking of every Arcade Fire song (which I still think is my greatest contribution to music ever, even if you’re the only one who reads it).
Letters are so formal. Maybe that’s why I haven’t written to you yet even though my mom got your new address from the Ludeckis a few weeks after you left.
That’s the family that lives in your house now, by the way.
I think one of them goes to the college, but I can’t be sure.
They have a six-month-old baby and basically never leave the house.
Sometimes my mom has me mow their lawn, and they both wave at me from the window like hostages the whole time I’m out there.
I wanted to send you something on Facebook, but I’m still not allowed to have one yet. Do you have one? People at school ask me if you do. All. The. Time. You know there are people here who miss you, right?
DUDE…Forty-five minutes is a superrrrr long time to write a letter. I need to think of something else to say because Mr. Farley is watching, and his eyebrows are doing that thing where he looks like an angry Muppet.
I forgot you don’t know Mr. Farley, because you go to high school somewhere else. What’s it like going to school someplace else?
That was a dumb question. Sorry. I feel pressured to ask you something important because it’s like the first letter I’ve written after two months, but the only thing coming to mind is did you see Inception ?
School played it on the lawn for homecoming, and I’m not sure if I liked it or understood it or just had a dream of Leonardo DiCaprio for several hours. I really need to talk to you about it.
My stomach is growling, so I’m gonna cut this short so I can get a bathroom pass and sneak down to the vending machines for chips.
From,
Ethan Powell (from Mr. Farley’s 2nd-period freshman English class)
Dear Ethanius Potholomew,
It’s kind of rude that you can use the weird long version of my name and I have no way to retaliate. I’m glad you wrote me a letter and not a list of songs I don’t know and have to listen to because that’s basically homework. Did you decide what song to audition for Jazz Band with?
First, let me answer your totally not dumb question. Going to school somewhere else is…weird. I’m not good at making friends here. I probably wasn’t any better in Lewellen, but it was different there.
Now for your totally dumb question: Of course I saw Inception . Everyone did. At first, I thought I understood it, but then I tried to explain it to Laurel and then…it was like…I didn’t? Then she saw the movie and tried to explain it to me, but now we’re like, why was the top spinning at the end???
I’m sorry about how suddenly we left Lewellen.
My mom says it was because it was the end of the month and staying longer would’ve cost more money.
I don’t know. Maybe that’s the truth. For a while after we moved, I’d wake up at night to get water and think I was still in the house behind yours and walk into a closet.
Then I’d realize I was dreaming and for a split second, it all seemed like a dream.
That whole year. You. Minnesota. Everything.
Like Inception ! IS THAT WHAT IT’S ABOUT?
My dad’s working on a new doc in Alaska. I haven’t heard from him in a while, but he’s like that when he’s working. It’s like we’re all tucked inside a drawer and he forgets to take us out again. Which sucks, but also…it’s whatever, I guess.
It’s not all bad here. We’re staying with my mom’s aunt in Seattle, and she’s paying Laurel and me to sell her “legacy” furs on eBay. She’s been very disappointed by the lack of demand for her gently used animal carcasses.
I’m sorry I didn’t write earlier. I don’t usually keep in touch with people when we leave, but I’d like to keep in touch with you. Unless you wrote just for school. No pressure.
Is it weird I responded? If it is, just ignore it and know that I miss you and that Arcade Fire doesn’t have enough songs I like to create a definitive ranking.
BOOM. Shots fired.
Best,
Charley (from the kitchen table)
PS: If we were there this summer, I totally would’ve jumped into the lake with everyone, and I want credit for that.
Charleston Chew,
I’ll let your obvious play to antagonize me and Arcade Fire go because you know nothing of music or culture.
I got the lead guitar spot in Jazz Band, which is kind of a big deal for a freshman, but I’m not great at sight reading music yet.
I REALLY wanted to audition with “Maggot Brain” by Funkadelic but at the last minute switched to Prince, which was probably the right move for Ms. Peters.
My mom’s been calling me Miles Davis ever since I got the spot, and I don’t have the heart to tell her he was very famously not a guitarist.
Petey asked about you and Laurel when he was home for Thanksgiving.
He’s still at that hockey boarding school up north, which I can’t believe exists outside of a Mighty Ducks movie.
I told him that I didn’t know how you were because the whole letter thing takes super crazy long and he reminded me that email exists.
Do you have an email address? He said that he Gchats with Laurel sometimes, so I’m guessing you have one too.
Mine is [email protected].
Regards,
Ethan (from the six-inch spot next to the register at the Donut Barn)
PS: You get the credit for jumping in a lake WHEN you jump in a lake and not one. Second. Sooner.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Your email address is weird.
That’s it. That’s the message. Why is there an 8 in the middle like a Zodiac Killer clue?
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Your email address is weird.
Chuck—
Ethanpowell and ethanpowell8 were taken.
I kind of like it. It looks like an infinity symbol in the middle, like a superhero or a leader of a postapocalyptic society.
Have you read The Hunger Games yet? It’s SICK. Like everyone dies. It’s crazy. You’d love it.
—Ethan
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Your email address is weird.
Why do I want to read a book where everyone dies? Also, if we’re rebuilding society, I’d prefer if I was the one leading it, but I’ll keep the infinity symbol as a gesture of goodwill.
—Charley8Beekman
Eleven Years Ago
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: You’re an absolute nightmare
Powell—
Why do you have band practice on Sundays? I have no one to distract me from this college essay and have to resort to email.
I’m supposed to write about my biggest dreams, and all I can think about is how this house in Milwaukee is officially where I’ve lived the longest, but my mom still says it’s temporary.
She’s been sleeping on a pullout for two years waiting for my dad to take us away and become the kind of guy who can stay in one place for longer than two minutes without getting bored.
To him, our family is this interesting idea, but inconvenient in practice.
I don’t get why my mom can’t give up on this ridiculous dream of a happy family he doesn’t even want. Laurel says the whole concept of monogamy is flawed, but then what about the Obamas? Explain them then!
It has to be possible for the right people to find each other and make it work.
So maybe that’s my big dream. To be in a power couple where we have a house that’s ours and the jobs and the couch that’s perfectly white and never gets dirty even though we have three muddy dogs and it all feels permanent, you know?
Do you think that’ll get me into college?
lol. lol. no. I’ll channel you and write something about the environment.
—Charley
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: You’re an absolute nightmare
Chuck—
I’m ashamed I ever thought your dad was cool. To my credit I was thirteen and had never met an adult man with a dangly earring.
I wish we could swap lives. Between the shop and this town, everything feels too permanent.
I got into this music camp in Northern Michigan. It’s supposed to be great, but my parents need me at the shop this summer so my mom can finally get the knee surgery she’s been putting off. Sometimes I feel guilty for being the third-generation heir to a donut shop who physically can’t eat donuts.
Obviously, I want my mom to have time off to recover, but I also wanted this seemingly life-changing experience to maybe change my life. Sometimes it feels like my life is going on someplace else without me. This town’s this fishbowl I’ll never escape even though I can see through the glass.
I think I want to get a tattoo. Would you ever get a tattoo?
Also, is this anything?
www.soundcloud.com/lemonface/rooftop-comedown
—Ethan
PS: I don’t know if you’re kidding about the essay, but if you aren’t, you should have me read it first. You should probably call me before you write anything about the planet you can’t take back.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: You’re an absolute nightmare
Your tattoo better be “Charlotte Beekman is always right” in curly font. Or maybe wildflowers, like the purple ones that pop up by the lake in the summer. Those always remind me of you.
And this song is OBVIOUSLY something! It’s literally amazing.
Is the band called Lemonface? Are we sure about that name?
—Charley