Mother Character Analysis

And somehow, after that, he didn’t mind hiding so much anymore. Who wanted to meet strangers, anyway? Who wanted to go to school […]? He was special. He was secret. He belonged at home—home, where his mother always let him have the first piece of apple pie because he was there and the other boys were away. […] Home, where the backyard always beckoned, always safe and protected by the house and the barn and the woods.

Until they took the woods away.

He could have told her then about the vents—he didn’t see how anyone could object to him looking out there—but something stopped him. What if they took that away from him, too? What if Mother told Dad, and Dad said, “No, no, that’s too much of a risk. I forbid it”? Luke wouldn’t be able to stand it. He kept silent.

She jerked. “—but I cleaned that chicken al—oh. Sorry, Luke. You need tucking in, don’t you?”

She fluffed his pillow, smoothed his sheet.

Luke sat up. “That’s okay, Mother. I’m getting too old for this any”—he swallowed a lump in his throat—“anyway. I bet you weren’t still tucking Matthew or Mark in when they were twelve.”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then I don’t need it, either.”

“Okay,” she said.

She kissed his forehead, anyhow, then turned out the light. Luke turned his face to the wall until she left.

“Am I just supposed to sit in this room the rest of my life?”

Mother was stroking his hair now. It made him feel itchy and irritable.

“Oh, Lukie,” she said. “You can do so much. Read and play and sleep whenever you want… Believe me, I’d like to live a day of your life right about now.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Luke muttered, but he said it so softly, he was sure Mother couldn’t hear. He knew she wouldn’t understand.

If there was a third child in the Sports Family, would he understand? Did he feel the way Luke did?

“But you’re a third child, too,” Luke protested. “A shadow child. Right?”

He suddenly felt like it might be easy to cry, if he let himself. All his life, he’d been told he couldn’t do everything Matthew and Mark did because he was the third child. But if Jen could go about freely, it didn’t make sense. Had his parents lied?

“Don’t you have to hide?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jen said. “Mostly. But my parents are very good at bribery. And so am I.”

“Don’t tell me your family believes that Government propaganda stuff,” she said. “They’ve spent so much money trying to convince people they can monitor all the TVs and computers, you know they couldn’t have afforded to actually do it. I’ve been using our computer since I was three—and watching TV, too—and they’ve never caught me.”

In the evenings, spooning in his stew or cutting up his meat, Luke felt pangs of guilt now. Perhaps someone was starving someplace because of him. But the food wasn’t there—wherever the starving people were—it was here, on his plate. He ate it all.

“Luke, you’re so quiet lately. Is everything all right?” Mother asked one night when he waved away second helpings of cabbage.

“I’m fine,” he said, and went back to eating silently.

But he was worrying. Worrying that maybe the Government was right and that he shouldn’t exist.

“When I was little, Mom used to take me to a play group that was all third children,” Jen said. She giggled. “The thing was, it was all Government officials’ kids. I think some of the parents didn’t even like kids—they just thought it was a status symbol to break the Population Law and get away with it.”

Luke could tell his father’s words came out painfully, but they still stabbed at him. Maybe part of him had been secretly hoping his parents would forbid him to go, would lock him in the attic and keep him as their little boy forever.

And somehow, after that, he didn’t mind hiding so much anymore. Who wanted to meet strangers, anyway? Who wanted to go to school […]? He was special. He was secret. He belonged at home—home, where his mother always let him have the first piece of apple pie because he was there and the other boys were away. […] Home, where the backyard always beckoned, always safe and protected by the house and the barn and the woods.

Until they took the woods away.

He could have told her then about the vents—he didn’t see how anyone could object to him looking out there—but something stopped him. What if they took that away from him, too? What if Mother told Dad, and Dad said, “No, no, that’s too much of a risk. I forbid it”? Luke wouldn’t be able to stand it. He kept silent.

She jerked. “—but I cleaned that chicken al—oh. Sorry, Luke. You need tucking in, don’t you?”

She fluffed his pillow, smoothed his sheet.

Luke sat up. “That’s okay, Mother. I’m getting too old for this any”—he swallowed a lump in his throat—“anyway. I bet you weren’t still tucking Matthew or Mark in when they were twelve.”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then I don’t need it, either.”

“Okay,” she said.

She kissed his forehead, anyhow, then turned out the light. Luke turned his face to the wall until she left.

“Am I just supposed to sit in this room the rest of my life?”

Mother was stroking his hair now. It made him feel itchy and irritable.

“Oh, Lukie,” she said. “You can do so much. Read and play and sleep whenever you want… Believe me, I’d like to live a day of your life right about now.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Luke muttered, but he said it so softly, he was sure Mother couldn’t hear. He knew she wouldn’t understand.

If there was a third child in the Sports Family, would he understand? Did he feel the way Luke did?

“But you’re a third child, too,” Luke protested. “A shadow child. Right?”

He suddenly felt like it might be easy to cry, if he let himself. All his life, he’d been told he couldn’t do everything Matthew and Mark did because he was the third child. But if Jen could go about freely, it didn’t make sense. Had his parents lied?

“Don’t you have to hide?” he asked.

“Sure,” Jen said. “Mostly. But my parents are very good at bribery. And so am I.”

“Don’t tell me your family believes that Government propaganda stuff,” she said. “They’ve spent so much money trying to convince people they can monitor all the TVs and computers, you know they couldn’t have afforded to actually do it. I’ve been using our computer since I was three—and watching TV, too—and they’ve never caught me.”

In the evenings, spooning in his stew or cutting up his meat, Luke felt pangs of guilt now. Perhaps someone was starving someplace because of him. But the food wasn’t there—wherever the starving people were—it was here, on his plate. He ate it all.

“Luke, you’re so quiet lately. Is everything all right?” Mother asked one night when he waved away second helpings of cabbage.

“I’m fine,” he said, and went back to eating silently.

But he was worrying. Worrying that maybe the Government was right and that he shouldn’t exist.

“When I was little, Mom used to take me to a play group that was all third children,” Jen said. She giggled. “The thing was, it was all Government officials’ kids. I think some of the parents didn’t even like kids—they just thought it was a status symbol to break the Population Law and get away with it.”

Luke could tell his father’s words came out painfully, but they still stabbed at him. Maybe part of him had been secretly hoping his parents would forbid him to go, would lock him in the attic and keep him as their little boy forever.