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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.”
She huffed a laugh. “I don’t really have anything to deal with. Mac is gone. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You don’t have to do that, Lydia. You don’t have to be... Mom and Dad.”
“I’m not Mom and Dad,” Lydia said.
“Not at all? You’re not... Holding things together because you think you have to be tough?”
Lydia rolled her eyes and grabbed a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses off of the round rack, putting them on. “I’m holding it together because what’s the other option? Lying on the ground? Falling apart?”
“I like a good tantrum,” Marianne said.
“And if I need to have one, I will let you know. I promise. But in the meantime, having you not treat me like an alien would be good. Have you seen the way Ruby looks at me?”
“Like she wants to hug you and cry and put you in a pouch and carry you around?”
“Yes. That’s the look.”
“I did notice.”
“I don’t want that. I do enjoy her taking the kids to look at the toys, though.”
