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

Patrick stared into his coffee. “I knew it.”

Marianne laid her head against Patrick’s shoulder and asked, softly, “What’s your mom like?”

Patrick kind of snorted. “What have you heard?”

Marianne went ahead and told him, though she didn’t think he’d like it much. “That if Danielle had the money, she’d pack up that bastard Whirlpool and ship it to her nasty crackhead mother. And that the two of them would live very happily together. It wasn’t very funny, just weird.”

Patrick laughed so hard that he had to cover his mouth to keep from spitting his coffee. “Yup. I think you got the gist.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” Marianne picked up her coffee. She looked around at the bright, well-worn restaurant, filled with unsupervised teenagers and other random misfits, and suddenly wanted to leave. Patrick should never have had to hear his mother called a nasty crackhead in a place like this. She felt guilty for asking about it. It was almost obscene. Marianne put her cup down on the table. “Are you ready to go home?”

Patrick looked up at her and her half-finished coffee, surprised. “Whatever you want.”

She fingered the edge of her cup. “I don’t care either way. The conversation got a little heavy, and I thought that you might want to split, is all.”

Patrick shrugged. “I’m fine. You can finish your coffee.”

Marianne turned away, trying not to look frustrated. Couldn’t she be the unselfish one for once? Heaven forbid he help her out here. Patrick’s stupid mother; all his self-sacrificing was probably her fault.

Patrick tugged on her sweater. “What’s wrong, Marianne?”

She looked up, startled. “Nothing.”

“You look sad.”

Fricking Marianne! Control your face for once. “No, I’m not sad.” She shook her head. “I was only worried that I made you uncomfortable.”

“Talking about my mom doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” He pushed her out of the booth and got out after her. “That look on your face does.”

Way to go, Marianne. Leave it to her to create a situation out of nothing. Marianne felt like a beast. Patrick dropped a tip on the table and towed her by the hand over to the cashier.

Marianne kept quiet until they were seated in the truck again. Patrick drove out of the parking lot, and Marianne unbuckled her seat belt. She scooted over to the middle seat and sat on her knees facing him. “I didn’t mean to make it all about me, inside. It was an accident.”

“Um...” Patrick leaned over to her but kept his eyes on the road. “I think that what you’re doing is illegal, sweetie.”

“I’m a rebel.” Marianne grabbed his arm and shook it. “I’m serious, though! I wanted to be all kind and compassionate, but you turned it around on me.”

He looked at her excitedly. “You know what would be really compassionate of you?”

“What? Anything.” Please make it something hard, too. She was aching to suffer.

“Not flying through the windshield would be very compassionate of you.”

“Grrr.” Marianne stayed on her knees and snatched up the lap belts. She wondered if anything could ever bother him. She yanked and clanked and did her best to fasten the belts around her. “You. Are. Making. Me. Crazy.”

Patrick gave her a disapproving look. “You make yourself crazy, girl.”

He made an excellent point. Marianne glared at him and gritted her teeth. “That is so true.”

Patrick laughed at her and turned on the radio. How could he just accept all her funkiness so easily? He must have liked it or something. Fine, then... he could have it. Marianne decided to let out her inner freak. “You know what? I do make myself crazy!” she shouted. “I am a complete freak show! I have no friends because I am so spazzy!”

Patrick raised his eyebrows at the road. “You’re spazzy? I hadn’t noticed.”

Look at him; he wasn’t even fazed. This was wonderful. “Are you getting this, mister?” She punched him in the arm. “I’m like some sort of fracking comic book villain! You do not belong with me!”

Patrick opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with more giddy ranting. Maybe there was something to this whole honesty thing. “You remember Dark Lord Alvin? And Nana stinking Deathrage?” She stuck a finger into her own chest. “I am their Liege Lord, and they are my minions!”

Patrick looked at her sideways as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or flee.

“Pull over!” she shouted. The who-would-break-first game was over.

He stared at her like a kid getting yelled at by his teacher and obeyed immediately.

Marianne unclipped her seatbelt as Patrick stopped by the curb of the residential street they were on. She shoved the gearshift into park.

“Are you getting out?” he asked, totally confused.

“Nope.” Marianne removed her sweater and tossed it on the floor. “But you’re free to leave if you want.”

Patrick stared dumbly from her sweater to her tank top. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Marianne bent down, took his face in her hands, and kissed him on the mouth. Patrick sat up immediately and kissed her back, putting his hands behind her head. Marianne let go of his face and unbuckled his seatbelt for him. Patrick untangled himself from it and turned to face her.

She put her arms on his shoulders as he kissed her jaw. And then her neck. And then her lips again. Marianne wanted nothing else than to be in his presence for the rest of her stupid life. She inched forward, and Patrick put his hand on her lower back.

Marianne was the luckiest erratic, irresponsible, and insanely foolish person she knew. He was crazy to have chosen her, of all people. The sweet way he kissed her lips, and her neck, and her collarbone... What had she been thinking just now? She couldn’t remember.

After three more minutes of that, Patrick pulled himself away and handed Marianne her sweater. “You’d better put that back on,” he said breathlessly.

“Yeah.” She’d never been in this situation before, but she was certain that he was right. Not that she would have minded... Marianne took the sweater from him and jammed