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

to scream, “He’s my man, now, folks. Step off.” She slid her hand along Patrick’s arm and grabbed his hand. He squeezed back, but he didn’t look down at her or even pause as he talked. Like a mother of too many toddlers, he didn’t even notice Marianne hanging on his leg and chanting, “mom, mom, mom...” She might as well have not even been there.

She sat forward during the next slight intermission and leaned toward his ear. “Patrick,” she whispered. “I think I’m gonna walk around a little. Go see the house.”

“But...” He looked a little put out. “I haven’t seen these guys in forever. Can’t you hang just a little longer?”

What the hell? She wasn’t some nagging, party-pooping wife. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

Patrick turned toward her a bit more and lowered his voice. “No, but I’m an loser if I let you go wandering around alone when you don’t know anyone.”

“I’m not setting you up,” she said. “Geez.”

“I didn’t say you were setting me up.”

Marianne scooted to the edge of the couch and spoke over her shoulder. “Just have fun, okay? I’ll come and find you in a few minutes.” She stood up and walked out of the room, not knowing if Patrick responded at all.

Marianne walked aimlessly through the house, not as interested in critiquing the décor as she had been before. She went upstairs and peeked at the rec room, but the guys in there looked pretty serious about their game of pool, so she didn’t go in. As she was walking along the balcony back to the staircase, she was able to see Patrick’s group down in the living room. He was sitting forward on the couch, speaking energetically to the couple across from him. Tattoo Face was gone and Brook had taken his side of the couch, though not close enough to Patrick to be weird or offensive. Marianne’s spot was still gone, though.

She went downstairs and got a beer from an open cooler, not caring who it belonged to, and went into the backyard. She walked around the edge of the pool, looking for the fountain she’d been waiting to see, and spotted Christian in the shadows. He was behind some potted plants, sitting in a lawn chair facing the cliff. She walked over and nodded at him when he noticed her.

“Oh hey, Marianne,” he said a little hesitantly.

“Am I interrupting?”

He smiled at her through his thick beard and lifted the shoebox on his lap. He was rolling a joint. “Not really. Pull up a chair.”

Marianne set her beer on the ground and dragged a metal chair across the concrete and into Christian’s hideout. She sat down and put her feet up on the ledge of the transparent fence. It really was a beautiful view—colored city lights for miles, then the sudden blackness of the ocean.

Christian licked the length of his paper, sealed it, and twisted the end. He lifted it in his hand and looked at her uncertainly. “Do you...?”

“No, no. But go ahead.”

He lit it and did his thing while Marianne drank her beer and listened to the faint music coming from the house. Her promised time allotment for wandering was up, but she couldn’t force herself to go back inside just yet. The fireworks were going to start soon, and that seemed like a good enough reason to stay.

“Trouble in paradise?” said Christian.

Marianne didn’t look away from the lights. “If I’m involved, there’s always trouble.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“What’s that mean?” asked Marianne.

Christian sat up a little. “You tell me.”

Marianne laughed. “My life is crappy,” she said. “Nothing new there.”

“Everybody’s life is crappy,” he said. “What’s wrong with yours, specifically?”

She shook her head. “Nope. You’re the psychic. I came to you for answers.”

Christian sighed again and scratched his beard. “You guys are going to break up soon.”

“Nice!” She laughed. What a perfectly nasty thing to foresee. Marianne turned toward him and smiled. “Don’t pull any punches, Nostradamus.”

Christian rolled his eyes. “I didn’t get that one psychically.”

He didn’t get it psychically? Marianne blinked. “Patrick told you that.” She didn’t say it like a question, but it was.

“I’m just wondering why,” he said. “From your side.”

“From my side?” she said. That meant that Patrick had a side—a side against her. Like enemies. Marianne turned and focused on the lights in front of her so she could hide her panic from Christian. Patrick was a lot farther out the door than she’d thought. “I... I don’t have a side,” she stuttered. “I don’t have one.”

Christian just smoked and waited.

“Frick.” She threw her hands up. “I don’t know. I just can’t be normal. The whole thing is my fault. I don’t know. I just keep... on... messing... up.”

“What?” Christian sounded like he didn’t believe her. “You’re nice. How did you mess up?”

Marianne shifted in her chair. “It’s personal.”

Christian was quiet for a while. “Well, I’m sure he’ll get over it soon enough. If you admit that it was a mistake, he won’t be mad forever.”

The first sparkle of the Disneyland fireworks lit up the sky in front of them. Marianne waited until the popping sound hit them, and then mumbled, “He doesn’t know.”

“Oh,” he said. Almost like he’d heard something he wasn’t expecting. Something bad.

“What?” Marianne turned away from the view and looked at him. “Come on, just tell me what he said to you.”

“Nothing really. I could just tell. It’s obvious that things are glitchy with you guys.” He paused to take another hit. “And now you’re telling me—” he blew out his smoke and continued talking without the weirdness of holding his breath. “—you’re telling me that there’s even more. I don’t know, girl. It doesn’t look good.”

It didn’t look good.

Marianne stuck the heels of her hands over her eyes. “Ahh.” She shook her head back and forth. “I just... I hang with these people,” she whispered. “I almost got arrested. Gah! There was this total creep with us that made me hold his drugs—and then the cops came. Frick.”