Marianne laughed. “No, I wasn’t on drugs. Have you been waiting twenty years to ask me that?”
“No. But I have wondered. Off and on.”
“No. Nothing quite so edgy. It was just...hormones, you know? And that’s scary enough on its own. I have some issues with Mom and Dad, sure. But they were good parents. I just don’t want to lose touch with Ava.” She frowned. “Where would one even get drugs in Pear Blossom?” Suddenly, she felt terrified. “What if youcanget drugs in Pear Blossom?”
“Marianne,” Lydia said. “Settle down.”
“I’m trying on,” Ava said, wandering toward the dressing rooms. Lydia, Dahlia and Marianne walked over with her, forming a line and watching the dressing room door.
“What are you talking about?” Dahlia asked.
“The inherent drama of being a teenage girl,” Lydia responded.
“Ah. I remember it well.” Dahlia looked down at her hands and Marianne’s gaze followed. Her sister’s dark red nails were chipped, which forced her to look at her own hazy blue gel nails, which were still perfect.
Lydia’s, of course, were bare.
Manicures required upkeep and care so Lydia didn’t try.
Marianne did everything with delicacy to keep her nails nice. It felt like control, usually. Though right now it wasn’t helping at all.
Dahlia wanted it both ways.
Which seemed so very Dahlia.
“Who doesn’t?” Marianne asked. Except, she didn’t particularly like to remember. Even now, she couldn’t really sort through it. She had just been so emotional. And she remembered desperately wanting to connect with her parents and feeling like they couldn’t handle her. And that was the last thing she wanted with Ava. But Ava was getting withdrawn, and Marianne could see shades of herself there, and she had been certain that, if ever faced with this issue, she would know what to do.
“Maybe I should take her to a psychologist,” Marianne said.
“Why?” Lydia asked.
“I don’t know. Look, she’s a good kid—she gets good grades, she does art and she writes for the school paper, but... Kids order drugs on social media apps now. It’s scary.”
Ava came out, wearing a crop top that showed a stripe of her midsection and a pair of high waisted jeans.
“No,” Marianne said, before she could think.
“Why not?” Ava asked.
“It’s against school dress code.”
“I don’t spend a hundred percent of my time at school, Mom,” Ava said.
“But you do spend a hundred percent of the time being my daughter, and no.”
“Aunt Dahlia,” Ava said, turning to Dahlia. “This looks good, right?”
Dahlia looked between Marianne and Ava. “It looks good...”
“Hey,” Marianne said.
“The issue isn’t that it doesn’t look good,” Dahlia said.
“No,” Marianne said. “The issue is that... The issue is that you’re a kid. You don’t need to try and... You don’t need to try and show skin and things like that. You are a kid.”
“I’m fifteen,” Ava said.
“My point stands.”