Marianne

by Elizabeth Hammer

  “Oh, shut up,” said Mom, glaring back. “Are you an adult, or aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then start acting like it, for Pete’s sake.” She flicked some water at Marianne. “Think about the consequences and then do what you want to do and suffer whatever happens. Enough moping around, feeling put upon by everyone.”

  “I don’t do that,” mumbled Marianne, slinking away with her cigarette.

  “Yes, you do,” said just about everyone.

  Marianne huffed and puffed for a minute. “That’s… that’s… I do not feel sorry for myself! I feel sorry for all the jacked-up stuff I’ve done. That’s different.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Danielle, shaking her head. “You know you overdo it.”

  “I can’t believe I’m sitting here and taking this from a bunch of naked people.” Marianne dunked herself, leaving her cigarette hand above water. When she came up again, she wiped the water from her eyes and sighed. “Okay, maybe I overdo it a little bit. But… but… Gah! I’m just such a loser!” She sank down again, her words turning to gurgles in the water.

  “Loser?” said Georgia, when Marianne came up again. “Did you say loser?”

  “Yes, honey.” Marianne shook her hands off and reached for the wine she’d left on the edge of the spa. “I said loser.”

  “But, Marianne,” said Georgia. “Everybody is a loser. What have I been telling you about standards?”

  “Oh crap, not standards.” Marianne rolled her eyes. “Someone kill me right now.”

  “Um…” Danielle leaned forward. She gave Georgia a funny look. “I don’t know what the hell standards are, when you say it like that, but I think she’s probably got it right. Look at me—I’m a total nightmare most of the time, but do I feel the need to cry about it all day? No. Do I feel the need to go puke my guts out whenever I eat one too many egg rolls? No.”

  “Exactly,” said Sally. “You’re way too insecure. That’s why you were acting like such a loser in the first place.”

  “Wow,” said Marianne. “How about we all come back to the real world where people are insecure for a reason. This is not rocket science. I’m insecure because I know that I’m a loser.”

  “Nope,” said Danielle. “Crazy standards-girl had it right. Everybody is a loser, even me. Just ask my mom.” She inhaled deeply and released her smoke. “Only my mom forgot to tell me the everybody part. But I’m not a bigger loser than anyone else out there, so why should I walk around feeling like a big waste of space, sleeping with every sweaty male that comes my way?”

  “What?” said Marianne. “I don’t sleep with all sorts of sweaty males.”

  “Never mind.” Danielle finished off her wine. “You’re a big fat loser. Fine.”

  “She is not a big fat loser,” said Mom. “She’s just a little bit of a loser.”

  “Thanks, mama.”

  “Well, you are,” said Sally. “But that’s okay. What makes your mistakes so much worse than mine? Or Georgia’s?”

  Marianne sighed. “No, I get it, ‘Everybody makes mistakes,’” she chanted. “But… but I knew better. I knew, every step of the way, that I was jacking him over. All the sneaking around. Every lie. It was all on purpose. That makes it worse.” Marianne sighed again. “I knew better. You know?” She looked over at Mom, hoping to find an understanding face.

  She did. Mom had tears in her eyes. She smiled at Marianne and shook her head.

  “You’re disgusting,” said Sally.

  Marianne and Mom both looked over at Sally in shock.

  Sally just shook her head. “This is all just another pity-party. You think you’re the only one who makes mistake after mistake knowing they’re wrong?” She gestured around at the whole spa full of people. “Do you have a superhuman conscience, or something? The rest of us can only function because we’re not as morally grounded as you are?”

  “No!” said Marianne. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “That’s exactly what you meant,” said Sally. “Don’t lie.”

  “Geez. No.” Marianne put her hands on her forehead. “You guys are hurting my head. I’m lost in this conversation.”

  Nana nodded. “Got that right.”

  “Here’s your problem, stupid,” said Danielle. “You think you’re different, but you’re not. Healthy, normal people don’t walk around thinking they’re awesome. A normal person walks around fully aware that they’re a nightmare, but that it’s cool because everyone is a nightmare. That’s how I patched things up with Michael—we both just admitted we were being jerks, and it was over.”

  Marianne just blinked and shook her head. “You guys don’t get it.”

  “No, we get it,” said Sally, ashing onto the pavement. “You just want to be better than everyone else.”

  “Do not!” Marianne lit another clove. “I don’t want to be better. I just want to… to…”

  “To be the same, right?” said Sally.

  “Right.”

  “Well, you are the same,” said Danielle. “Just a little bit worse.”

  Marianne laughed. “I know!”

  “She’s kidding,” said Mom. “You’re not worse.” Danielle shrugged, and Mom hit her.

  Marianne laughed again. “No, I get what you guys are saying.” She put her glass up on the ledge and then sat back down on the step. “But whatever the exact magnitude of my loser-dom, you’re still wrong. You’re forgetting something.” Marianne looked up at Danielle and nodded.

  Danielle nodded back. “There is that.”

  “What?” said Georgia.

  Marianne looked over at her and smiled. “He left.” And then she started weeping. Too much alcohol. Way too much alcohol.

  She looked up at the sound of splashes and saw Mom shooing everyone out of the pool. “We’ll be right in,” said Mom. “I just want to talk to her for a minute.” Mom sank down to the step by Marianne as soon as the others had dripped their way back into the house. She handed Marianne a fresh glass of wine. “I love you, you know. More than anything in this whole world.”

  “I know.” Marianne wiped her face with her forearm. “Don’t be worried. I know you guys are right. I’m gonna pull it together, I am. It’s just… It hurts, you know?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Marianne started crying again. “I’m sorry for moping and worrying everybody. I didn’t mean to hurt you guys. It’s just hard because…” She could barely get the words out. “Because it wasn’t mutual, you know? I messed it up. Me.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  Marianne managed to laugh again.

  “I still can’t believe that you’d been doing all that stuff behind my back and I never even knew it.”

  Marianne nodded. “Pretty bad, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Mom nodded and lit another cigarette, a menthol this time. “But not unheard of. You are your father’s daughter.”

  “Nice try,” said Marianne, sniffing and stealing Mom’s cigarette. “But I doubt you ever caught Dad dressed up like a vampire and kissing other women.”

  “Well, okay,” said Mom, stealing the cigarette back. “But he left me at the altar, did I ever tell you that?”

  Marianne turned and gaped.

  Mom nodded. “On the day of. I swear.” She nodded again. “He was a tester, too. Put me through hell.”

  Marianne made a face. “I’m not a tester.”

  “Yes, you are.” She handed Marianne the cigarette. “Anyway, he still tries to say that he was just nervous and needed more time to think, but I know the truth. He needed to know that I’d still be there when he came back.”

  Marianne swallowed. “Okay, maybe I am a tester. Lucky for Dad, though, that you were still there.”

  “He was worth it, and so are you,” said Mom. She gave Marianne a half-smile. “I guess your boy wasn’t as smart as we all thought he was, huh?”

  “Guess not,” said Marianne, staring down at the churning water. “Maybe I am better off without him then. But it’s still ki
nd of hard to be happy about being alone.”

  “Well…” Mom made a face. “I never said that you should be happy about being alone. And Patrick is a great guy. He really seemed—”

  “Stop,” said Marianne.

  “I just mean to say that it’s okay to be sad and lonely. You need—”

  “Wait, what?” said Marianne. “I thought I was being inexcusably mopey.”

  “Oh, you are,” said Mom. “But it’s not bad to want a lover. You need one.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…”

  “Well, you do,” said Mom, splashing Marianne. “We all need someone to love us and—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay,” said Marianne. “It was just your word choice that was bothering me.”

  “What? Lover?”

  “Yes,” said Marianne, cringing again at the word.

  “Lover,” said Mom. “Lover, lover, lover…”

  “Nope,” said Marianne, standing up. “I’m not drunk enough for this. I’m going in.”

  Mom laughed. “Fine. But give me a hug, first.”

  “Not without clothes, I won’t,” said Marianne.

  “Oh, come on,” said Mom. “I breastfed you for heaven’s sake. You loved it, too. You wouldn’t quit till you were three years old…”

  “Mom.” Marianne took a step back. “It’s time to stop now.”

  “It was so sweet,” said Mom, smiling wistfully. “You’d come up and pat me and say, ‘Titty, Mommy.’”

  “Holy monkeys!” Marianne practically launched herself out of the spa, but Mom still managed to goose her on the way out.

  Forty-five minutes later, Marianne lay on the floor of the dark living room in a sleeping bag. Sally was making her go to bed early so she’d be all fresh for Bats Day tomorrow.

  She could hear Danielle whispering on the phone in the other room. “Just give him a bottle. You can handle this… Yeah, she seems like she’s a lot better, but I still want to stay. We’re camping out in the living room… For fun, Mike, that’s what girls do for fun… James can sleep on Patrick’s old bed, can’t he?… Just give him a bottle!”

  Marianne was doing a lot better? Was it all the yelling or all the weeping that gave Danielle that idea? Marianne smiled to herself and rolled over onto her back. If anything, she felt worse in some new, jittery way. It was like her mind was moving too fast. Like she needed to go for a run or shout at somebody. Was that truly an improvement on sleeping all day?

  Marianne flipped over again, smashing her face into the pillow. Go to sleep.

  …

  It wasn’t working. Frick. She had to get up and do something. Anything…

  No. Go to sleep. She pulled the pillow up and over the back of her head. Tomorrow would be a new day, a good day. She could do this. She would get over Patrick, and she would move on in a better way than before. The real world and the Goth world had collided tonight, and it was fine. Everyone knew all her secrets, and it was fine. She was fine.

  She wasn’t fine. She had to get up and do something.

  No. Go to bed. Breathe. In and out. Relax. Nothing’s wrong, it’s just a panic attack. That’s a perfectly normal reaction to have when you discover the answer to all your problems, only about a month too late…

  Marianne sat up onto her knees. Wait. One. Fricking. Second.

  “What is it?” whispered Georgia.

  “Nothing,” said Marianne. “It’s okay, go to sleep.”

  Marianne stayed frozen on her knees, trying desperately to catch up with her own brain. She had the answer to all her problems? No, she didn’t. But then, why did it feel as if she did?

  “What’s the matter, honey,” whispered Danielle, tip-toeing back into the room.

  “Nothing,” said Marianne. “I’m just thinking.”

  “Why are you doing it like that?” said Danielle. “You look creepy.”

  Marianne waved her hand. “Shh!” She was coming near to it, now. The answer. She was having a panic attack because she knew something… something big… something brilliant… it was coming… any second now…

  Nothing came to her. Well, maybe right now.

  Still nothing happened, but that’s okay. Just wait for it… Now.

  Okay, now.

  Now.

  Nope. She must have been making it up. Marianne exhaled. “Frick.”

  “What, honey?” said Danielle.

  “Nothing. Sorry,” whispered Marianne, climbing back into her sleeping bag. “I was just thinking that… that…”

  “Spit it out.”

  “I don’t know, something about…” Marianne shot up into a sitting position. Oh, crap. She almost had it there, but now it was gone again. But she had realized one little piece of information: Whatever it was, she didn’t like it very much.

  “What the hell, Marianne?”

  “Um…” Marianne shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “Then shut up.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Sorry.” Marianne curled into a ball and covered her head with the sleeping bag. She wrapped her arms around her knees, breathing hard. What the hell was wrong with her right now? What was she so afraid of?

  Afraid? Marianne opened her eyes and stared at the blanket lying across her face. Who said anything about afraid?

  Oh, no. Marianne flung the blanket off her face and stared up at the ceiling in horror. No way. She refused to even think the words…

  You have to talk to Patrick.

  Nope. Marianne shook her head back and forth. No. That’s all. No.

  You have to talk to Patrick.

  Marianne covered her face with her arms and squeezed her eyes shut. No way. What possible reason could she have for talking to him? He would just say no all over again. He’d dumped her. Nothing had changed.

  Well, all right. A few things had changed. All her bozo secrets were out. The two worlds had collided, and she’d survived. She’d learned.

  Puh-lease! That didn’t change a thing. Nana and all the gang knew now, but they were all losers, too. Patrick wouldn’t take it as easily as they had.

  Probably not. But who cares? He already left her, so what could it cost?

  Um… How about her very soul and every shred of self-respect she had left? Besides, what the hell would she say?

  She’d confess, obviously. Confess everything. Her lies, her betrayals, all the issues and all the feelings she’d hidden from him. Simple.

  Oh, that’ll be a blast. And nothing she could say would change his mind. Nothing. She’d completely humiliate herself and get depressed again, all for nothing.

  Marianne dropped her arms and stared up at the dark ceiling again. That was true. All her reasons for deciding that this was a stupid idea were true, but… but for some reason, she couldn’t get herself to care. Part of her still wanted to do it. That was weird. “Why don’t I care?” she whispered.

  She should care. When she’d tried to tell him her secrets, he hadn’t wanted to hear them. He’d left anyway. It was awful. Wretched. If she were to try again, he’d do the same thing. The facts and the lies hadn’t changed. Patrick hadn’t changed.

  Mmm. Yeah, she still didn’t care. Where did this manic desire to torture herself come from? And why did she feel like she wanted to do it right now? This very second. Marianne took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. What the heck? She had about a billion reasons to dismiss this idea, but none of them changed the fact that it felt right. Not fun, not exciting, just right. And not for herself; but right for Patrick.

  Huh? How on earth could it be right for Patrick? He may have been the one to leave, but she wasn’t under any delusion that it had been easy for him. He was probably just getting happy again. If she were to show up at his door, he’d send her packing, and then he’d have to deal with everything all over again. She couldn’t do that.

  Marianne bit her lip. She couldn’t do that, and she wouldn’t do that. He’d loved her before, and she’d hurt him. Never again. She’d rather rot slowly in her bed for the
next ten years than to…

  Marianne sat up. Hang on. Important thought.

  Those two words: Never again. She took a deep breath in and shook her head like a wet dog. Those words weren’t a hope, or a promise, or a goal. They were truth. What she’d done before, she could never do again. It was an impossibility. Marianne would never hurt him like that again because she was different now. “Oh crap,” she breathed. “I’m different.”

  Georgia lifted her head to look at Marianne. “Did you say something?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. She jumped up off the floor and ran over to the doorway. She flipped on the light and stood there panting as everyone squinted back at her through the brightness. “I’m having an epiphany.”

  “Finally,” said Danielle. “It’s about freaking time.”

  “What?” said Marianne. “No, really. I just realized something very important… I’m different now.”

  Georgia scrunched up her nose. “You’re different?”

  “Yes, I’m different,” whispered Marianne. “And that matters.”

  Danielle blew out a breath. “Nice work, professor,” she said. “You’ve finally caught up to what I’ve been saying for two weeks. So what?”

  “So…” Marianne crossed her arms on top of her head, barely able to keep up with her own brain. “So, I think I need to talk to Patrick. I think he needs to know that I’m different. I think… I think I need to try to get him back.”

  “Ooh...” “Um...” The murmuring started in the corners and worked its way across the room. “Honey,” said Danielle. “You know that’s not going to happen, right?”

  “That’s fine,” said Marianne, nodding. “That’s fine. But there’s a chance, and—”

  “No, babe,” interrupted Danielle. “I talk to him all the time. There’s no chance.”

  Mom was biting her lip and shaking her head at Marianne. No chance.

  Marianne started to deflate, but caught herself. “No. It doesn’t matter. I have to do it, anyway. It’s right. Somehow, it’s right. I…” She swallowed a few times to keep herself from crying. “I owe it to him. After everything he put up with, I owe it to him to put in the effort. I owe it to him to offer. I need to give him the choice, even if it’s going to hurt. He deserves that much.”