Everything seemed benign enough, you know. My mother was heading out of town with some friends, and as I was only just eighteen, she didn’t feel I was old enough to be left on my own. I tried complaining that I was an adult now, but my past behavior had cemented the idea, in my aunt’s mind at least, that I was immature for my age.
My Aunt Margaret or Margie as everyone called her, was a bit on the old-fashioned side. My mother was always the adventurous one, but being the younger of two sisters, Margaret had to live in my mother’s wake, as it were.
They, my grandparents, were tougher on her, having seen what a lax attitude could do you a young girl. It fell upon her to be the adult, and even now, as they grew older, Margaret would often take the upper hand when it came to my mother’s behavior.
I think, had it not been for her sister, my mother may very well have ended up in a bad way. As it was, she was in a failed marriage, my father having long since abandoned us. My aunt had slipped into our lives shortly thereafter and had remained as an authority figure over my mother, and very occasionally, over me as well.
So, it was just me and mother most of the time, and that was fine. She left me alone to do what I wanted, and she was free to act as though she was unencumbered by the restraints of having an impressionable young daughter.
My name is Hanna, and this is the story of my week with my Aunt Margie. It’s not an incredible tale of coming of age, or of any particular hardship imposed upon me by my mother’s ‘keeper’, as it were. It was, for lack of a better term, an awakening.
“So, your mother has left me to take care of you.” My aunt grumbled, as I set my suitcase down on the floor of her immaculately clean hallway. “Why she feels the need to run off on these things, is quite beyond me.” She added, quickly whisking my belongings up the stairs to what would be my temporary lodgings. I followed, almost intimated by her brusqueness. “You’ll stay in here.”
She led me to the same bedroom I had stayed in every time I was left there. It was bland and colorless, like the rest of Margie’s house, but it was at least comfortable. “Thanks” I managed, lifting my bag from her hand.
“You’re eighteen, now?” Margie asked, leaning back in the open doorway. “I wonder what sort of clothes your mother packed for your stay. Why don’t you unpack, and we’ll have a look.” She insisted.
“My mother didn’t pack for me,” I added. “She doesn’t get too involved in what I do these days.”
“I’m afraid that’s all too apparent, judging by your hair and the clothes you’re wearing,” Margie smirked, raising an eyebrow as I opened the suitcase on the bed.
I really didn’t think I was too out of line. My hair was neat and clean, and although it was long, it was trimmed and well cared for. As for what I wore, it was standard teenage stuff. Holey jeans, all-stars (no socks), and a well-worn t-shirt that I was too in love with to throw out. I never wore a bra, even though my boobs had grown to the point that I probably should have.
As I laid out my attire, the look on my aunt’s face grew longer, and I knew some sort of comment was coming. I didn’t have to wait long.
“Well, I can see a shopping trip is in order, young lady,” Margie said, sternly. “We’ll go this afternoon.”
I tried not to sulk too obviously, but I really hated shopping. It was just too boring. So, as we made our way to the open-air mall, I couldn’t resist saying something. “You really don’t have to do this, Aunt Margie.”
“I have to argue with you there, Hanna. Your mother seems to have forgotten her responsibilities, so I suppose that task will fall on me, just as it has with her.” She seemed so determined, that I simply gave up on the slight resistance I was going to pose. Instead, I dutifully followed along a few steps behind as she led the way.
