Mom didn’t answer. They walked into the juniors’ department.
“What do you think of that dress?” Mom said. “If you found something you really liked, we could get your prom dress for next year.”
“Mom, sophomores don’t go to the prom,” Lori said. She looked at Chuck, like she expected him to back her up.
Chuck probably wouldn’t ever go to prom.
“I know,” Mom said, fingering another dress. “I just thought, if an older boy asked you . . .”
“You trying to marry me off young or something?” Lori asked. “Get rid of me?”
Her tone was joking, but the edge was still there. Her voice made Chuck think of sheep being sheared: a sharp razor hidden in soft wool.
“No, I don’t want you to marry young,” Mom said steadily. “I don’t think marrying young is a good idea at all.” She wasn’t looking at dresses anymore but straight at Lori, with a very serious expression on her face.
“You were only eighteen when you and Dad got married,” Lori said, sneering. “So you regret marrying him?”
Chuck froze, and even Lori had the grace to look ashamed. Her look of scorn slid into one of uncertainty, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say and was stunned herself that she’d said it.
Chuck sneaked a look at Mom, and her expression was frozen, too. It was like the pictures in Chuck’s world history book of the people caught by the lava, centuries ago. Stuck for all time.
Then, “No, of course I don’t regret marrying your father,” Mom said in a careful tone. “But sometimes I wish . . .” Her voice trailed off. She was staring past the mannequins. Then she looked back at Lori. “Well, you can always wish lots of things, can’t you? It’s like Pop says, ‘If wishes were horses, then beggars could ride.’”
Chuck never had understood that saying.
They left Marshall Field’s without buying any dresses.
They went to another store.
Chuck liked the open middle section of the mall, but being in the stores themselves made him feel strange, like he wasn’t getting enough air to breathe. Didn’t these people ever long to see even a blade of grass? Something real?
Lori and Mom were fighting about something else now.
“I just want to know, why’d you have to go and name me Lori?” Lori asked. “It sounds like somebody’s mother. Why not Courtney or Brittany or Brandi? Something like the other kids?”
“Your father liked the name Lori,” Mom said softly, and that shut Lori up.
“Why did you name me Chuck?” Chuck said, before he could stop himself.
Mom and Lori both turned to look at him, like they’d forgotten he was along.
“You were named for Pop,” Mom said. “Charles Frederick.”
“Oh,” Chuck said, retreating. He knew he was named for Pop. Didn’t Pop remind him of that all the time? “Don’t know how someone named for me could forget to grind feed. . . . Don’t know how my own namesake could forget to do night work.” What Chuck had really meant to say was, Why Chuck? Why not Charles or Charlie or even—Chuck had heard this nickname once on TV—Chas? Chuck imagined he would somehow have been a different person, if only he’d gotten a different name. As a name, Chuck was pale and pasty and flabby—a fat boy without a spine. Buckteeth and a burr haircut. Chuck. A Chas or a Charlie would be popular, everybody’s pal. A Charles would be dignified somehow. A true Charles would be somebody.
Chuck couldn’t possibly be a Charles.
But then, neither could Pop. He’d gone by his middle name since he was born.
“Do you mind all this shopping, Chuck?” Mom asked. “You’ve got to be bored silly. Are there any stores you want to look at? Any clothes you need?”
“No,” Chuck said, looking at the floor. “But would you mind if—?” The racks of clothing pressed in around him. Was Mom offering him a chance to escape? “Would it be okay if I went off by myself for a little bit? I could meet you wherever you want me to be by lunchtime.”
“Well . . .” Mom hesitated. Chuck could tell she was thinking about Lori disappearing the night before. He hoped she was thinking, But that was Lori, and this is Chuck. And Chuck’s a boy. It’s not so dangerous for him.
It was strange for Chuck to even hope that people would see him as more responsible than Lori.
“Okay,” Mom decided. “Meet us, um, back at this fountain at twelve thirty.”
Lori gave Chuck a look like she wished she were the one splitting off. Chuck felt triumphant. I got something and Lori didn’t! Now, that was a first.