Takeoffs and Landings(30)

The next time Lori woke up, sunlight was streaming in the window, and she could hear the shower running in the bathroom. Chuck’s bed was empty. The door opened and it was Mom back again, flushed and sweaty.

Lori propped herself up on her elbows.

“Where were you?” she asked sleepily.

“I went jogging,” Mom said.

“I didn’t know you did that,” Lori said.

“I do it a lot, when I’m traveling,” Mom said. “It helps me think.” She sat down on the edge of Lori’s bed. Lori was still close enough to dreaming that she could let herself enjoy having Mom nearby. Maybe Mom was getting ready to tell her more. Lori remembered one time at home when they’d all been in the living room together, and some report had come on TV about people jogging.

“Now, that’s a waste of time,” Pop had said. “If those folks want to get some exercise, why don’t they try doing some honest work for a change?”

And Mom had sat there and not said a word. Lori felt like assuring Mom now, Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell Pop you jog. Then maybe she and Mom could laugh about how Pop always made those grand pronouncements that didn’t really mean a thing. All bark, no bite, that was Pop.

Mom glanced toward the bathroom, where the spray of the shower was still pounding away. She leaned in toward Lori. Lori braced herself to receive another secret.

“While it’s just you and me,” Mom began.

“Yes?” Lori said. Without even thinking about it, she started holding her breath.

“You can tell me. How bad is it for Chuck?” Mom asked.

Chuck. Lori exhaled so hard, she practically snorted.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The teasing,” Mom said. “Are the other kids really mean?”

“I don’t know,” Lori said. “I’m not with him twenty-four hours a day.”

“You’re around him more than I am,” Mom said.

It was the perfect opportunity for Lori to spit back, Whose fault is that? She managed to keep her mouth shut.

“What do kids say?” Mom asked. “They don’t get . . . physically abusive, do they?”

Lori thought about some of the rumors she’d heard. A couple of guys from school had supposedly circled around Chuck at the fair last year, hit him with hog switches, and yelled out, “Piggy! Piggy!” Would Mom call that physically abusive? It was just a harmless prank.

Wasn’t it?

“I don’t know, Mom,” Lori said again. “They call him dumb and stupid and fatso and retard and, I don’t know, stuff like that. But it’s not like people are beating him up every day or anything.”

“But why Chuck?” Mom asked.

Either Mom was still sweating, or there were tears in her eyes. Was Mom crying for Chuck?

Why did that make Lori feel jealous?

“Come on, Mom,” Lori said, more harshly than she meant to. “Don’t you remember high school at all? Kids make fun of other kids. That’s just what they do. Even if you’re popular, you’ve always got to watch out that something doesn’t happen to make you seem weird or unpopular or whatever. Like, you know how you want to have Chuck take art lessons? That’s not going to help. Nobody takes art lessons. It’ll just make him seem weirder than ever.”

“But Chuck wants art lessons,” Mom said. “I’m sure of it.”

Had Mom ever asked Lori what she wanted?

“Maybe,” Lori said. “But, see, this is how it works. Something like that could even make me look bad—”

Lori had said the wrong thing again. She knew it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Mom drew back, looking horrified.

“Oh, sorry,” she snapped. “I forgot that your image was more important than Chuck.”

“No, Mom, listen—,” Lori scrambled to explain. She couldn’t stand to have Mom looking at her that way again. How had this happened? How come Lori knew what to say to everyone except her own mother?” I mean, I don’t really care if he takes art lessons or not. I mean, I guess it’d be good for him. And, really, if his being weird was going to hurt my image, that would have happened a long time ago—”

“I think you’ve said quite enough,” Mom said.

“No, wait,” Lori pleaded. She thought about all the times on this trip that Mom had given her that appalled look. Until now, Lori knew she had deserved every single one of them. She deserved it on that first airplane trip, when Chuck threw up, and Lori was mean, and Mom sliced her into shreds with a single glance. Lori deserved the looks in Chicago, when she kept asking nasty questions, and Mom’s answers got icier and icier and icier, until Lori was sure she finally understood the meaning of “absolute zero.”