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

to text Sally and Georgia about their unfinished conversation.

I’m not a leech, you morons. I’m a vampire.

19

All Haloes' Eve

By Friday afternoon, Marianne felt a lot better. She needed to get up and do something for once in her life, so she took a shower and went to the store for trick-or-treating candy. Today was Halloween.

She went to the holiday section and grabbed five bags of chocolate candy, a plastic cauldron to put them in, and even a cartoon paper witch to tape to the door. There was a bin of discounted costumes in the center of the aisle, so she dug around in there for a while. She ended up choosing a white and gold angel getup—one hundred percent polyester and the hoochiest thing she’d ever seen. No one was going to see her in it except the folks who came to the dark front porch—plus, it was cheap—so she threw it in the cart. She seriously needed a party, even a one-woman party. The Goths were all going out together, but she didn’t want to go; she wasn’t feeling social at all. Marianne put all her stuff up on the counter at the checkout and searched around for anything else fun she might want to buy.

They sold cloves here?

No, she couldn’t. That was such a stupid idea. Marianne pulled out her wallet and glanced behind her. No one was around except the employee in front of her. She was sure that she didn’t know him.

“Anything else?”

Well, if you insist. “Yeah... a box of cloves,” she said quietly. “Right there. No, below that. Yeah, that one.”

“Can I see your ID?”

“Sure.” Just don’t memorize the name and rat her out to anyone. She showed him her license, paid, and left quickly.

Marianne ripped the tags off her costume as soon as she got back to Danielle’s. It was almost dark. She put the little dress on—surprisingly, it was a good fit even though it was polyester. She raided Danielle’s closet for stockings and heels, and searched the girls’ room for glittery make-up. She put her hair up, attached the furry halo, and she was done. Little princesses and werewolves started ringing the bell before Marianne could even open up the candy bags.

She had just sent off two brothers—both dressed as Spider-Man—with a double dose of candy when Patrick called her cell phone.

“Happy Halloween, angel.”

“You really are the creepiest guy ever,” said Marianne, looking down at her costume. “And not just on Halloween.”

“Feeling any better?” he asked. “I see you got your spirit back.”

“Sorry. Was I boring you with my disease-induced good temper?”

“Who said anything about a good temper? I just meant that your nastiness was less peppy of late.”

Nastiness? Marianne frowned and perched herself on the arm of the couch where she could see the kids through the window. “Am I nasty?”

“Well, no. Of course not,” he said. “You just think you are, so I play along.”

She let herself flop back onto the couch with her legs hanging over the arm. “You’re so sweet.”

“How kind of you to notice.”

“I mean it.” Marianne rolled over on her side and curled her legs up in front of her. All of a sudden, she was burning inside. Dying to have him back home with her. “I miss you,” she whispered.

“Sweetie...” he whispered back. “I love you so much. Only a few more days. I’ll be there before you know it.”

“Kay.” Marianne wished she could just sleep straight through until that day.

“Are you at home?” Patrick sounded worried. Her tone must have been as dejected as she felt.

“I’m at your house,” she said, trying to sound happier. “Giving out candy.”

“I wish I was there. That sounds fun.” He laughed a little. “I can just see you... You give more to the cute ones, huh?”

Marianne laughed silently. “I give more to the polite ones.”

“And what do you give the rude ones?”

“They get their fair share, don’t worry,” she said. “But I do give the evil eye to the teenage boys carrying pillowcases.”

“Poor kids.”

“Patrick! They don’t even dress up.” She shook her head and sat up. “I run out of candy early every year, and I blame them for that.”

“Cut them some slack, baby,” he said. “They may be too embarrassed to wear a costume, but they’re still just little boys who want candy.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What?”

“Now you’ve gone and made me like them,” she said. “I hate when you do that.”

“You love when I do that.”

She did. Along with every other thing he ever did. Marianne closed her eyes and spoke silently into the phone. I love you.

“You there?” asked Patrick.

“Oh, yeah.” She cringed at what a dope she was, even though he hadn’t seen her. “Sorry, there are trick-or-treaters at the door.” Not really.

“All right,” he said, trying to sound exasperated. “I’ll just go back to my stupid book.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Happy Halloween. Love you.”

“Happy Halloween,” said Marianne.

Marianne took a chair out to the front porch and dispensed the candy from there. She could have called Patrick again during the lulls, but her cell phone was all the way back inside the house, so she didn’t. Two hours later, the candy was gone. She bolted the front door and shut off all the lights to discourage kids from knocking in vain.

So...

The magic was over for the night. Marianne grabbed a throw blanket, a copy of Dracula from Patrick’s room, and the cloves. She got a cup of coffee, went into the backyard, and sunk down into one of the patio chairs. The Disneyland fireworks distracted her for a bit, then she read for an hour or so before reaching the point where the words went in but the meaning stayed out. The soft nighttime noises all around her seemed unusually loud, and the corner of her lip was in shreds from chewing on it. She tried the last paragraph three times and then finally shut the book. She put her fingers to her temples and rubbed till it hurt.

This was guilt.

Guilt was stealing away all her