“Easy.”
“Wow,” she said, reeling. Shocked at him. It was just so mean. So totally outside what she’d thought he was capable of. “I kind of despise you right now.”
Patrick almost laughed. “You’re the one who despises me?”
Marianne blinked. Patrick despised her? Yesterday, an hour ago, she wouldn’t have thought there was any way he could have said those words that would make her believe he really meant them. But now… Maybe it was because she’d met Brook in person—the stories that he’d told her about his behavior seemed real now. Maybe it was because she could see in his eyes that he was dead serious. Maybe it was just that she knew so deeply that she deserved those words.
Whatever the reason, she believed him. Patrick despised her.
She’d felt like a paranoid psycho since the moment they’d met—waiting for this moment—and now here it was. Exactly what she’d expected to happen from the beginning. Patrick had finally come to despise her—and the really sad part was that he didn’t know half of the reasons why he should. But he knew enough. “Yeah,” she said, answering his question, channeling her hurt into anger and trying to keep the tears out of her voice. “Sometimes I do despise you. I feel like crap all the time because I know what’s in your head. I know it.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’ve been able to see it coming since the moment we met.” She looked right into his eyes. “It’s what I’m seeing now. I try to ignore it but it doesn’t work. I see how you look at me sometimes, and I just… I’m so done with feeling this way.”
He looked away. “Well, that makes two of us.”
“Great,” she said. “I’m glad to finally hear how you feel.”
He looked back at her and almost growled. “I don’t know what you want from me, Marianne. How else can I ask? What more can I do?”
He could shut up. “I never asked you for anything.”
“Well, maybe I should stop pushing myself on you then.”
Marianne sucked in as much cool night air as she could manage. He was only repeating what he’d already said, but it was just as bad the second time around. “I don’t want someone around who doesn’t want to be here,” she said. “I’d rather you were gone.”
“Done.”
“Go to hell,” she whispered.
Patrick ignored that and looked away.
“Uhh!” Marianne stepped back and sucked in more air. “You are such an jackass! How can you look at me like that?”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like you’re, I don’t know, glad,” she choked out. “Like you’ve been waiting for this.”
Patrick stared at his shoes. “Maybe I have been.”
Marianne barely stopped herself from jumping forward and pushing him again. “Get away from me. Get away.” She walked backwards with her hands up.
But then she came forward again. One more thing… “You did everything you could to make it work,” said Marianne, “but all the time you were regretting it. These thoughts you’re having—they’re not new. Maybe you’re a coward. A coward, just waiting for me to be the bad guy. Ever consider that?”
“You’re right.” He leaned forward, just like she was doing. “I’ve done everything. Everything I could, but nothing gets through to you.”
They were only a foot apart now. “What the hell have I ever asked of you?” she said. “I never put anything on you.”
“Are you kidding me?” he shouted into her face. “I am swimming in all your crap, and I am so fricking sick of it.”
“Oh, you poor, put-upon baby.” Marianne folded her hands in front of her.
Patrick walked back three steps, just staring at her and getting his breath back. He put his hand behind his neck, his flannel shirt shifting in the wind. “I tell you what I need, and you just... How can you do this?” he whispered.
Do what? Forget it, she didn’t even want to know. “Sorry,” she said without inflection.
“Look at you...” He reached toward her. “You don’t even care.”
“You’re right.” She still had no emotion in her voice. “I don’t care.”
“What is wrong with you?” he said. “How can you be so awful?”
“You’re putting this on me? You knew who I was from the beginning. You should have just ended it a long time ago.” Marianne swallowed, losing her composure again. “You’re a coward,” she whispered, “and I hate you for that.”
“Well,” said Patrick. “At least you feel something for me. That’s a step.”
Marianne gripped her hair like she might tear it out. He was twisting this. Twisting it to accuse her of doing what he was guilty of. “You’re being a psycho. Do you even hear yourself?”
“Is that all you can do?” he said. “Call me names?”
“You’re right, Patrick, it’s a nasty thing to do. Too bad it’s true.”
“Why are you being like this?” he breathed. “What did I do to make you shut me out like this? I thought you loved me...”
She did love him, but what did that matter now? What did anything matter now that he’d finally admitted that she wasn’t the kind of person he wanted. Too shy, too silent, too heavy with emotional baggage. Too much for him. Or too little for him. Whatever it was, he’d gotten to know her, and he couldn’t handle her anymore. “I guess I was wrong.”
Patrick nodded. And then—in that exact moment—Marianne saw him end it. The fight, the relationship, everything. She watched it happen on his face. He was totally and completely done with her.
“Oh, is that it?” she shouted. “Aren’t you going to call me a trash-whore or whatever, the way you did with Brook?”
If Marianne had any lingering doubts about how he truly felt about her, his look took care of them. She hadn’t known that his face could produce a look like that.
Marianne did the only thing she could think of and smiled. Right into his hate.
Patrick stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the keys to his truck. He tossed them on the sidewalk in front of her and turned around. She watched him walk away. Two houses away. Four houses away. Farther. Farther. Then he was gone.
26
Nothing But Reruns
That could not be the end.
Marianne woke up at six the next morning. She got dressed, put on makeup, and sat on her bed to wait. He would come. They were more to each other than nasty words on a sidewalk, and she knew he would come.
At seven-thirty, he tapped on her window. Mom and Dad were sleeping, so she motioned for him to meet her in the backyard.
Patrick was standing just inside the gate when she walked out the back door. “Baby,” he said, his voice breaking.
She managed to say, “I’m sorry,” as she ran across the patio and knocked herself into him. “I didn’t mean any of what I said to you. It was all lies. I was just hurt and defensive.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. I didn’t mean it either. I was so awful. I’m just so scared of losing you.” Patrick loosened his hold on her and moved to sit down on the cold patio, pulling her down with him. They sat side by side against the house, his arm around her.
When Marianne could breathe again, she said, “You were right to be so angry about Christian. I can’t believe I spilled our business like that.”
Patrick ran his hand through her hair. “Sweetie, you can share it with the whole world. Just share it with me, too.”
“I know that. I know.” Marianne started breathing more quickly again. She didn’t want to talk about the real subject yet. “I just saw how mad you were after he talked to you, and I wanted to apologize again.”
Patrick sighed. “Don’t feel bad about that. Last night wasn’t about gossiping; it was about everything between us.”
Ugh. Good moment over. Marianne took her head off his shoulder and sat up straight. She picked up a stick that was rolling by in the wind so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “So, you meant what you said, then. About drowning in all my crap?”
>
“No,” he said immediately. Then he blew out his breath. “Yes. That was partly true. I just... the way things are between us... it’s not working.”
Marianne broke her stick in half. “Then go,” she said in the robot voice. “What are you even doing here?”
“Don’t do this again...”
Marianne laughed and looked up. “So I was the one responsible for that fight?”
“I didn’t say that.” Though his tone didn’t deny it, either.
“You didn’t say that,” said Marianne, “but that’s what you meant.”
“No,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a little girl. “I meant—”
“Enough,” she said. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. You don’t say things out loud, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hear them.”
“Why are you always putting words in my head?”
“I’m not.” Marianne turned her body to face him and crossed her legs. “I’m just filling in the blanks with things you’ve said in the past. I know you. I know how you think.” She touched the side of her head. “You don’t have to say that the fight was my fault for me to know that you think it. And...” Marianne looked down and fiddled with the stick while she mustered up the courage to say more. Her throat felt like it had fallen asleep. “You say that things aren’t working with us, and you mean to say that it’s because of me. Because I’m such a freak show all the time. I can see the effect I have on you. You’re not happy.”
“You don’t—”
“Stop lying,” she almost shouted.
Patrick looked down. “What do you want me to say?”
“Say that I hurt you. Admit it. It felt good last night to hear you say it. It hurts me when you try to cover.”
“Fine. You hurt me. I feel like,” he paused, “like I’m the only one in this.”
Marianne sat up straighter. He did not just say that. “The only one in what?”
“In the relationship,” he said. “You’re not trying.”
Marianne clenched her jaw and spoke very clearly. “I’m sorry that I can’t be freaking perfect like you. I have been trying, Patrick, but you don’t seem to care.”
“Excuse me?” Patrick gaped at her. “You haven’t tried at all.”
Marianne stood up. “What the hell do you know about it?”
“Well, obviously nothing.” He stood up, too. “You don’t give me anything. I don’t get anything from you. Ever.”
“What the hell do you want?” She tossed the stick into the pool. “Why can’t I be around you for two minutes together without feeling judged?”
“Judged.” He leaned over her, trying very hard to stay calm. “Judged. When have I ever judged you?”
Marianne shook her head in disbelief. “Try every second of every day. You’re constantly pushing me. I don’t know how to make you happy.” She lifted her hands in surrender. “Nothing I do is ever good enough.”
Patrick ran his hand through his hair. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Oh right, I’m crazy.” She smiled and patted him with her hand. “I forgot.”
Patrick grabbed her wrist. “I didn’t say that; I just don’t understand. How do I judge you?”
“Argh!” She pulled her wrist free. “You just said it a second ago. You said I give you nothing. It’s like I’m always just one step away from being what you want. It’s like I’m almost perfect, except for this one thing.” She held up her fingers to show an inch. “Then when I do that thing, it’s something else.”
“That is—” Patrick clenched his jaw and stepped back. He pointed at her. “That is so unfair. I’m only asking for one thing, Marianne. One freaking thing. Just be open with me. That’s all I’ve ever asked of you. That’s it. That’s all.”
She crossed her arms. “You ask too much.”
“Hardly.”
“Too much for me,” she said.
“This isn’t negotiable, Marianne.”
She dropped her arms. “So now you’re laying down the law, are you? I confess all my sins to you, or it’s over?”
“What?” Patrick touched his forehead. “Why can’t you just listen and stop twisting this?”
“No, I get it,” she said. “I confess my sins, and then you dole out my penance. And then we’ll do it again the next day. You really want that kind of relationship?”
“How can you say that?” he said. “When did I become such an jerk in your eyes? When?”
“Don’t do that!” snapped Marianne. “Don’t take my part. I’m the jerk here; that’s what we’re talking about. You don’t get to be the jerk in this conversation.” Okay, she may have been getting a bit crazy, now.
Patrick shook his head in confusion. “What is it with you? I don’t judge you—I don’t—but you want me to. And then you want to complain about it.”
“No.” She pointed at the ground. “No. I just want the truth. You never tell me the truth, but I know what’s actually there in your head. I’m not the only one covering stuff up.”
“I don’t lie to you.”
“Nuh-uh.” She looked him right in the eye. “You’ve been lying to me about how you feel. Things are bad, and you’ve been lying about it.”
“I think that’s obvious,” he said. “You really needed to me call that out?”
“Yes! Hell, yes,” she said. “I need you to accept this for what it is. I need to stop feeling all this pressure from you.”
“Pressure?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Like a fricking alien invasion. You want to crawl inside every part of my head, and it’s not cool with me. You can’t have that. Hell, you don’t want that.”
Patrick took a step back and swallowed hard.
Marianne waited.
He just stood there for a moment. “I know exactly what I want.” He took another step back. “Can you do it or not?”
Marianne froze in shock for a second. “What? This is it?”
“This is it.” He nodded. “Can you do it or not?”
No, no, no, no, no. This could not be happening. “Wait.” Marianne let her disbelief show on her face. “I already told you. I tried. I’m trying. I don’t know what else—”
“Yes or no,” he interrupted.
“Yes.” Marianne shrugged. “I said yes.”
He looked like he wasn’t even listening.
“I agreed with you,” said Marianne, heart beating fast. He wasn’t hearing her; he didn’t believe that she would try. “Of course I’ll do it. It’s done.”
“Marianne,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth.
He was gonna leave. Marianne reached out and held onto his forearm. She would not allow it. “Come on, stop looking like that.”
Patrick put his hands on her shoulders, bent down, and kissed the top of her head. He pushed her back a little. “I can’t,” he said.
“Wait, what?” She pulled on his shirt when he tried to move back farther. She blew out her breath to steady herself and smiled up into his face. “Listen, I agreed with you. I don’t always share everything I should. But I know—I know—that I was wrong. You have every right to leave.” Marianne waited for him to say that he’d never do that.
But he didn’t.
She swallowed. “Unless you don’t love me anymore?”
“Of course I still love you.” But his expression didn’t change.
She had to give him something it seemed. More than promises. “My phone,” she said, swallowing hard. “I didn’t lose my phone.” The words started coming out in a rush—anxiety censored some pertinent details, but the words did come “I got caught after curfew at the beach and a cop took it from me. He took my whole backpack. I was embarrassed and didn’t want to tell you.”
Patrick searched her face, but didn’t speak.
“That’s…” Marianne shrugged and paused another moment. “That’s what you want from me, right? This is the kind of thing you want?” She waited another moment. “Why are you sti
ll looking at me like that?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back out of her grasp. “I—I know this is what I asked for. But I still don’t think...”
“What the heck? You’re backing out now?” She let her mouth hang open. “I’ve got more. You want more?”
“No.” Patrick looked down. “I thought it would make a difference... a minute ago, last night... I thought that then, but I was wrong. I still can’t.”
“You said that you would.” Marianne looked away and put her hand on her forehead. “I’m freaking begging right now. Do you see this?” She looked back at him. “You said before that you loved me without conditions. You said that you decided. What the hell was that?”
Patrick didn’t look at her. “I do still love you. I just can’t be with you—I never promised that.”
Marianne stared in horror. “That is crap,” she whispered.
He swallowed. “I know.”
“Fine.” Marianne backed away from him, over to the porch steps. She couldn’t breathe anymore. “Fine.”
Patrick went to the gate and kicked it open. He turned and whispered, “I’m sorry,” at the exact same time as she said, “Just go.”
They stood facing each other for several moments, neither one moving.
Jinx.
Marianne went back into her bedroom. Oddly, that room seemed to be lacking sufficient oxygen to sustain consciousness, so she put on her tennies and went for a walk. Forget school.
She didn’t take her mp3 player, so she just chanted to herself, “Patrick can go to hell,” for the next three hours. It was fine. She was totally fine.
As she passed the high school, some guys playing basketball did a double-take when they saw the tragic expression on her face. Oh, eff off. She turned her head in the other direction and walked faster. No way was this situation going to crush her. Hell, she was almost glad. She’d never asked him for anything. Never expected him to be anything more than what he had been. Patrick was the first boyfriend she’d ever cared about, but that was it. Everyone had a first love that didn’t work out. And “first love” may have been overstating things. It was exciting, but not life changing or anything as gooey as that. In a week, they’d probably be hanging out again as awesome friends. She could totally fricking do that. No fricking problem.
Marianne Page 33
