As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t need that much help anyway. She’s already got the dancing part down, but etiquette and deportment were high on the list of these modern-day mavens of society, and the grandmothers were going full-on Trunchbull, which only seemed to up her uneasiness.
The twins were eating it up, but Gianna looked like she was about to turn green. “Stop worrying; you have impeccable manners; they’ll just be fine-tuning your innate grace.” I sound like Yeats or some crap, but it’s the truth. I’ve never known anyone with more natural grace, except Ma, of course. She nodded and went back to the conversation, seeming more at ease with time.
Once the meal was over, my sisters roped me into taking them shopping for last-minute stuff for their trip, which I didn’t mind because Gianna needed everything. It was more fun shopping with her, watching her try on the things I chose for her, seeing her look of pleasure when something fit just right.
She complained about each purchase, and it was obvious that she’d never had this before. The little boutique shops only had but so much to choose from, but I made sure to get her the best of everything, sometimes having to snag the price tag before she saw it and balked.
“I like this.” She twirled around in the little bit of fluff I guess the store was calling a skirt. The color was bright and summery, the material some kind of gauze-looking thing that the wind would have fun playing with. Nope!
“Too short!”
“She looked down at herself as if that would magically make it longer. Why do women do that?
“It’s not that bad.” She pouted, cute, but still no. I moved around her to the rack where she’d found the disgrace and pawed through the offerings. “Here, this is the same color.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful choice. It’s part of our new summer dress collection from Isabelle.” The sales lady came over all smiles.
“That’s a dress?” Now I was the one looking down at the thing in my hand that I’d mistaken for a top.
Gianna found this whole exchange funny and snatched it from my hand to return to the dressing room. I turned to the sales lady as soon as Gianna disappeared from view. “Where are your shorts?” I guess she saw steam coming from my ears because she rushed to find some. I change my mind; it’s more fun shopping for her by myself.
“Where'd you go?” I asked Lancelot, who came waltzing into the store with a bag sporting a different label. “I needed a new pair of swimshorts. The girls still at it? What the heck are they buying anyway?”
“They’re doing it for Gianna.” I came to that realization only after we got here once I remembered that my sisters had been packed for weeks.
“You forget we helped them choose what to pack almost a month ago?”
“I did wonder about that, but it’s the twins.” He shrugged his shoulders and wandered off. That’s my sisters for you. Either they leave everything to the last minute, usually the most important things, or they obsess over something to the point they have to be prepared weeks in advance.
None of them even stopped to wonder if Gianna needed a passport. I doubt the twins even thought of it since they’ve only ever flown private, where the staff takes care of that stuff. They’ve never seen the inside of an airport or gone through a security line. Ma or Pop still carry their passports, which should be changing soon now that they are older and could get their own.
Pop had come through there, using the expedited through agency which allows an emergency passport for people traveling internationally within seventy-two hours. A lot of truth was bent, but when you know who you know, it makes things easy. Plus, money is the international moral code by which most people live. I’m not sure who’s more culpable, the ones with money or the ones that can be bought with it.
She came out of the dressing room in the dress that was even shorter than the skirt, if that were possible. I passed her the shorts the lady had brought me. “Try these with it.” I notice designers are now using less material than ever before, but the prices are doubled. I can’t make sense of this shit, but that’s life. “Better! We’ll take those.” I walked away to look for anything else she might like while she got dressed again.
We left that store and headed to yet another, where we hit a snag when it came to which swimsuit she should choose. I saw nothing wrong with an Olympic grade one piece with matching shorts, but the twins insisted it was too old-fashioned and thought they could get away with dental floss held together with fishing wire. My ass!
“It’s this, or she could swim in shorts and a tee-shirt. Can you even swim?” She shook her head with an embarrassed smile.
“Fine, I’ll teach you.” That ought to put an end to walks on the beach. I’ll be sure to get her tired every day, so she doesn’t get any ideas.
I let Lancelot harangue the twins who were starting shit, but there was a lot of push back this time around. I guess being one year older made them feel grown. I gave him the signal to leave it alone. I’ve been around the women in my family long enough to know that arguing won’t solve anything. The only thing to do, which he understood, is sabotaging the shit.
They were happy enough to chatter away the three of them, thinking they’d gotten their way. Now they’ll have egg on their faces when they land and can’t find their fancy new skin suits. By the time we were headed back to the house, I was regretting ever introducing her to them.
I’m not sure if they knew I could hear their conversation from the front seat, or they felt comfortable enough to let their big brother in on their shit, though this was the first I was hearing of the plans they’d made with their delinquent friends. “No, to all of it.”
“What? Why not? It’s our birthday; Pop said we’re old enough to be on our own.”
Yeah, along with the battalion of men who are going to have the misfortune of shadowing you unnoticed while trying to blend in with the locals. They can’t seriously not know that Pop wouldn’t send them halfway around the world unprotected. If that’s the way they wanna play it, I’m not the one to tell them. But the crap they were planning is only one of the reasons why I won’t be telling them anything.
“I don’t care what the drinking age is there; you’re not drinking.”
“Oh, come on, Gabe, it’s not like we’re gonna get drunk.”
“Is that why you chose the island? So, you could tie one on?” What the hell goes on their heads anyway?
“That’s only one of the reasons. Don’t be a spoilsport, and don’t say anything to Pop.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Nana, lets us have wine with dinner.”
“Watered-down wine, and we’re not having this discussion. I’m going to be there, so there will be none of that.”
“Who invited you anyway?”
“If she’s going, then I’m there.”
Their snickers had me second-guessing myself. There’s been way too much; let’s test big brother lately. Since Lancelot looked like he was ready to chew nails, I figured they were legit this time. They moved on to something else, which didn’t necessarily mean they’d given up on the idea, but at least it wasn’t anything that would give me agita.