Takeoffs and Landings(9)

They stopped and the taxi driver began pulling their luggage out of the trunk. Chuck went over and picked up his own suitcase—still looking as new and unused as the picture in the Penney’s catalog Gram had ordered it from. Then he reached for Mom’s, which was a little more battered. Seasoned. Mom turned around and saw what he was doing.

“Oh, Chuck, you don’t have to worry about those. Leave them for the bellhop.”

“Huh?” Chuck said.

“Someone from the hotel will carry our bags for us,” Mom explained.

Face flushed with embarrassment, Chuck dropped the bags. Both John and the taxi driver were looking at him. Chuck retreated to the curb, wishing the sidewalk would swallow him up. He could live in the sewers of Chicago for the rest of his life, if only he didn’t have to see the look of scorn on Lori’s face.

It wasn’t fair. If Pop had been along and Chuck had stood aside like Mom said he should, Pop would have yelled at Chuck for being lazy. That was one of Pop’s favorite complaints about Chuck; how many times had Chuck heard, “You’re not carrying your own weight!” hollered at him across a barn or a hay wagon or a cornfield? The words always seemed doubly cutting, considering that Chuck’s weight would be a lot for anyone to carry.

Chuck watched the taxi driver take their suitcases to a man in a uniform, who stacked them on a rolling rack and pushed them through the automatic doors.

It was nice not having to carry his own suitcase. But he could hear Pop’s voice growling in his head. Why should someone else carry your suitcase for you, when you’re able-bodied and perfectly capable of doing it yourself?

Was it Pop’s voice or what Chuck thought himself?





Lori leaned toward the huge wall of mirror to apply lip liner. She had to admit, it was a lot easier to see to put on makeup here in the hotel than back home, looking at Pop and Gram’s cracked bathroom mirror. The crack went right through the middle of her face, so she either had to stand on Emma’s old bathroom stool to see her face whole or duck and weave to look around the crack.

Mike and Joey had broken the mirror a month ago, throwing a football inside the house. Gram and Pop hadn’t fixed it yet, as a reminder to them all not to play so rough indoors. Lori didn’t think that was fair. She hadn’t broken the mirror. And it didn’t punish Mike and Joey at all, because they didn’t even look in the mirror to wipe their faces. Lori thought Gram and Pop were just being lazy. They didn’t care about the bathroom mirror because their bathroom, the only one their company ever saw, was downstairs, newly remodeled.

Mostly, Lori got along with Gram and Pop, so it was weird that she was resenting them now. Usually, she reserved all her ill feelings for Mom. Okay, here it was: Lori thought Mom was the one who’d paid for Gram and Pop’s remodeled bathroom. Once again, everything could be traced back to Mom.

Lori stuck her tongue out at the gleaming hotel mirror. Take that, Mom.

Then Lori giggled at her own reflection. She felt too good now to get all bent out of shape about a stupid mirror. She had control of herself again. She could handle this trip. She’d even—almost—had fun today.

They’d had lunch in an outdoor café, walked along some river, looked at skyscrapers. They were going to go up inside a building that was or used to be (or something) the tallest in the world. But then Mom got worried that the elevator might upset Chuck’s stomach again.

It figured that Chuck would ruin things. But Lori didn’t care. The first day of the trip was almost over. She had only thirteen more days, and then she’d be home again planning swim parties with Angie and Dana, discussing boys with Courtney and Bree, going to movies and 4-H meetings and all-county dances.

That was the way to think about this trip.

Mom knocked on the bathroom door.

“I need to be down there in a few minutes. Want me to go ahead? Someone at the door can tell you where to go.”

Lori decided her lips looked good enough.

“No, no. I’m ready.” All her resolutions aside, something about this glitzy hotel made her want to stick close to Mom and Chuck. It was so big, Lori thought she’d never find herself if she got lost.

She didn’t want to have to ask anyone for directions.

Lori came out of the bathroom, then it was Chuck’s turn. He didn’t have to do anything but wet down his hair (which made it look greasy) and tuck his shirt into his dress pants. It was untucked again in five seconds, because the material had to strain so hard to make it over Chuck’s stomach.

Lori looked away, toward Mom.

Even Lori had to admit she looked great.

Mom was the sort of tiny woman who could look like a little girl dressing up in her mother’s clothes if she wasn’t careful. Lori had said that to her once.