Takeoffs and Landings(12)

Chuck turned around to whisper to Lori, She’s talking about you! But Lori wasn’t there. Chuck puzzled on that for a minute. Would she really have gotten up to go to the bathroom in the middle of Mom’s speech? You never could tell with Lori. Too bad—she missed hearing Mom talk about her. But having Lori away probably saved Chuck from another nasty look. If Chuck had whispered, She’s talking about you! Lori would have only frowned and rolled her eyes, saying without words, No, duh! Don’t you think I recognize my own name? I’m not that stupid. Not like you.

It was just that Chuck wanted to share this moment with Lori. He wanted her to agree with him: You’re right. Our Mom is really somebody!

He turned back around to enjoy the rest of the speech.





WHAT JOAN LAWSON WANTED TO SAY DURING HER SPEECH IN CHICAGO:

See those two kids out there? That’s right, the only two people under twenty in this whole crowd. Those are my kids.

Only, I’m not sure I have the right to call these two “my” kids anymore.

Can someone lose her own children? Not because they died, not because anyone kidnapped them, just . . . because?

I’m afraid that might have happened to me. No, I’m terrified.

You see a pretty, self-assured—maybe too self-assured—girl in a flowered dress and a slightly overweight (okay, very overweight) boy looking down at his plate.

I see echoes, memories, ghosts. Accusations.

With the others—Mike, Joey, Emma—I am still Mom. Emma begs for bedtime stories; Mike and Joey show off their latest karate moves. They are glad when I come home.

But Lori volunteers to do the dishes when I’m around just so she can hide out in the kitchen and avoid me. Chuck won’t look me in the eye.

I thought this trip would change everything. Good old magnanimous Mom, cashing in almost a decade’s worth of frequent flier miles for Lori and Chuck. But they don’t want what I have to give them.

Poor Chuck retched a few times on the airplane, threw up a teaspoon or two of bile and acted as shamed as a dog beaten for ruining a carpet.

Then he positively cringed when I told him the bellhop would carry his luggage.

What makes Chuck act so guilty? Why does he accept humiliation like it’s his natural due?

I don’t know how to help Chuck. I seem to only push him further into his shell.

Then there’s Lori—I can still hear her cruel words on the plane reverberating in my ears: “Take Chuck up, of course he’s going to upchuck.” I am her mother. It’s my job to tell her not to say things like that, not to hurt people like that. But I could say nothing. I couldn’t bear to scold her, push her further away.

I am paralyzed around my own children.

And I am supposed to be standing here telling all of you how to live your lives?

I am more frightened of giving tonight’s speech than I have been of any speech in years. Maybe ever. I am sure that my kids will see through me, will see that I don’t have any answers. But I am speaking and words are coming out of my mouth and you all are listening and laughing at the right time, so I must be saying what I’m supposed to say. I just can’t read my kids’ expressions. I can’t see what they’re thinking. I can’t—

Wait a minute. Where did Lori go?



WHAT JOAN LAWSON ACTUALLY SAID DURING HER SPEECH IN CHICAGO:

The truth is, we do have our time in a bank. Unlike any of the banks you all operate, though, we aren’t ever allowed to know how much we have left in the time bank until we’ve spent it all. All we can know is that we get to withdraw twenty-four hours every day. Everyone from the top of the Forbes 500 list to the poorest third-world orphan gets the same amount. But what you do with your daily withdrawal of time is entirely up to you. . . .

When the day comes that—surprise!—you find that you have drawn out every last second in your account at the time bank, that is not the moment to suddenly realize, Oh no! I was going to start my own business! or Oh no! I was going to leave the rat race and move to Maine! or Oh no! I was going to spend more time with my family! Say your “Oh no”s right now, while you still have time in your account. Do what you need to now, so you won’t have regrets when your account is closed.





Mom’s speech was over and people were clapping. Chuck closed his eyes for a second, and the pounding applause became a picture in his head—swirls of sound climbing higher and higher, like stairs he could never climb.

When he opened his eyes again, someone else was at the podium, thanking Mom, praising Mom, telling everyone to applaud again. And then Mom was snaking her way through the crowd. Toward him.

She caught his eye and mouthed something, but he didn’t understand. People were trying to talk to her, but she shook them off and kept walking.