“You can ask for things,” Ruby said, leading her niece and nephew off.
“She’s going to spoil them,” Lydia said.
“So what?” Marianne asked. “That’s not your problem. It’s Ruby’s problem. Let her handle it.”
Lydia laughed. “I don’t do letting other people handle it very well.”
She couldn’t help it. She looked over at Dahlia, who shot her a quick glance. So, clearly she couldn’t help it either. Luckily, Lydia didn’t really notice the exchange. The one that had clearly said, we are aware that you are emotionally stunted.
Ava was standing a very teenage ten paces away from them, pacing in a circle and ignoring them extremely purposefully.
“Come on,” Marianne said, beckoning her daughter. “Let’s go look at clothes.”
“I can look by myself,” Ava said, walking quickly in front of them toward the junior section.
“I want to see them,” Marianne said. “I’m paying, after all.”
And she wanted to spend some time with Ava. Of course, the trip to Medford had turned into a whole family circus, with her sisters and her niece and nephew coming along as well. Though, in some ways she imagined it was better than if she had just tried to come with Ava by herself. At least she was excited to spend time with Ruby, and often with Dahlia. The cool young aunts who didn’t have mom energy like herself and Lydia.
Ava grumbled something, and at this point, Marianne knew better than to ask exactly what her daughter had said, unless she wanted to get into grounding her in the middle of the store. And she did not. They were supposed to be having a nice day.
It was nice that Ava still had a great relationship with her father. It really was. Marianne shouldn’t be jealous of Jackson at all. It was just that she was Ava’s mother. She was the one who cared so much about making sure that she did a better job for her daughter during her tumultuous teenage years than her parents had done for her. And she was repaid with grousing.
Fine.
It was all fine.
“Do you like this, Aunt Dahlia?” Ava held up a short, velvet dress with small flowers all over it.
“Very cool,” Dahlia responded.
And that seemed to please Ava. Marianne turned and grabbed a furry jacket off of a rack. “I like this,” she said.
“I don’t like that,” Ava said, turning back to the dresses. Marianne shot Dahlia a dirty look, but Dahlia didn’t notice. Her sister—who was a full-grown adult—was busy picking through the juniors clothes and holding them up to herself.
“Of course she doesn’t like that,” Marianne muttered, stalking through and pretending to look at some scrunchies on a circular rack.
“My stance,” Lydia said, “is that if I wore it the first time around, I don’t have to wear it this time.”
“I like scrunchies,” Marianne said, grabbing a couple off the rack and sticking them in the shopping cart.
“I remember you used to have a giant Tupperware full of them.”
“And you used to steal them.”
“I did,” Lydia said. “Until a certain point, when you legitimately terrified me, and I thought you might actually murder me.”
“Right. About Ava’s age, I believe.”
Ava and Dahlia were now conferring over clothing.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what to do. To stop her from turning into a monster.” She grimaced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t unload my crap onto you.”
“Please,” Lydia said. “Unload your parenting crap on me.”
“You have enough to deal with.”