Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

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,