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

Stupid. “I’m sorry,” said Marianne. “That was a totally unfair question to ask you. You so don’t need to answer it... I didn’t mean to call you horrible. I just meant—”

“Listen,” he interrupted.

“Okay.” He could explain this away. She knew he could.

Patrick crossed his legs Indian style and reached over to hold her hands. “You were right... I didn’t answer the question you asked. It was a horrible answer in that way. It’s just that I didn’t like your question...”

Marianne looked down and nodded. He was right. She had forced him into a corner. She was mean for doing it.

“Because...” He lifted her chin with his hand. “Listen.”

She nodded.

“Because... I tell you the answer to that question all the time, and it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

Okay. She could deal with that. Marianne felt like she’d just been pulled up from drowning. Patrick did tell her good things about herself—and often—but she never really believed him. Marianne looked down again. She was ungrateful. A constant frustration.

“Ah, see,” said Patrick. “Now you feel bad for even asking.”

She glanced up at him with just her eyes. “Why do I even bother talking? You should just tell me what I’m thinking and save us both a lot of trouble.”

“You are not frustrating to me.”

Marianne drew back in shock. He’d just recited her own thoughts verbatim.

“Yup.” He pointed at her. “I knew that one, too.”

Marianne tried to talk, but all that came out was a kind of choked moan. Like when you move a corpse.

He smiled at her. “You’re attentive, and funny, and clever, and pure. So shy and so blunt. I love you for all of that.” Patrick bent down his head and boxed her in with his dark eyes. “But you know that already.”

“Well, I—”

“What you don’t know, what you need to know, is that I would love you anyway.” Patrick nodded at her look of confusion. “Even if you stopped being those things, I would still love you. Because I want to. Because I decided to.”

All her previous horror came right back to her. Maybe she’d understood perfectly the first time around, after all. Marianne wasn’t super comfortable with her next words, but she said them anyway. She was feeling almost angry. “I don’t want that kind of love. That kind of love doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re wrong. It’s better.”

“No.” Marianne took her hands out of his. She didn’t care about looking pathetic anymore. She felt like he’d been lying to her for two days. “If it doesn’t have anything to do with me, then why don’t you just go love a rock?”

“A rock can’t love me back.”

“You know what I meant.”

“You’re right. I know what you meant.” He took her hands again. “But I think you’re the one not understanding me.”

“No. I get it.” Marianne got up off the bed. He didn’t stop her this time. “You love me, and it doesn’t have a fricking thing to do with me. I get it.”

“Stop it, Marianne.”

“You stop it.” She was throwing a tantrum, and she didn’t even care.

Patrick stood up in his wrinkled pajamas and crossed his arms. “This isn’t fair.”

“I thought it didn’t matter to you what I did.”

He just stared at her through the dim light. Patrick loved her out of obligation. Because he was a good guy and thought it would be really noble to throw his love away on poor, besotted Marianne. That bastard. How could he do that to her? Better not to be loved at all, than loved because of some decision.

Marianne wanted to rage at him, but for what? She couldn’t just demand that he love her in the real way. She didn’t want him to love her for one more second than he wanted to. How could she ever trust his words again after this? She stomped her foot in frustration and tried to leave the room, but Patrick stepped in front of her.

“Move,” she said.

“No way.”

“Please let me go home.” She tried unsuccessfully to step around him again. “This isn’t right.”

“What isn’t right?”

“This whole thing!” Marianne wiped her wet cheek on her shoulder. “You telling me all this, and me yelling at you for it. Please... just let me go home.”

“You only think that because you’re not listening.”

“Knock it off.” Marianne’s whole body jerked forward with the intention of pushing him, but she stopped herself.

Patrick ran his hand through his hair and stared at her. “Baby...” he whispered.

Marianne turned her back to him and covered her face with her hand.

“I do love you, Marianne.” His voice sounded dead.

She shook her head. He couldn’t say that. Not while he was saying the other thing, too. They canceled each other out. He touched her shoulder lightly, and she shook it off.

She heard him walk over and sit back down on the bed. She was free to go now, but she didn’t want to leave anymore. She had nothing more at home than she had here. What did she have here? She had no idea, anymore. Marianne opened her eyes and stared at her hand that was only an inch off her face. “I don’t know what to do.” She said it so softly that she wasn’t sure whether he could have heard her.

“Talk.”

Marianne dropped her hand and crossed her arms.

“Do you want me to talk?”

“If you want.” Marianne waited for him to start, but he didn’t. “Please,” she whispered.

His voice was gentle, pleading. “I love you, Marianne, because of everything I know about you. That’s huge. That’s wonderful. But it’s out of my control. It’s changeable. Do you see that?”

No. She didn’t understand.

He continued. “But I also love you just because I’ve chosen to. And that’s better.”

How was that better? That just meant that Marianne could never really know if he’d changed his mind about her or not.

Patrick took a deep breath. “I know it’s not very romantic, but... Wait, let me turn this around so it doesn’t sound so bad to you... Marianne, I want you to love me for who I am. But