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

to cry again. When she looked up, Patrick was saying something to his sister and staring towards Marianne’s house. Marianne didn’t move; she had the curtain to hide her from view. Patrick stepped forward, kissed his sister on the cheek, got in his truck, and drove away.

Danielle watched him go and then looked toward Marianne’s house, just as Patrick had. This time Marianne shrank back, but it did no good. Danielle came anyway. She walked right inside and spotted Marianne after a quick glance around. She stepped into the kitchen and leaned back against the door frame. “What now?”

“You tell me,” slurred Marianne. She was pretty sure she’d been unintelligible.

Danielle walked over and gently pulled Marianne down from the counter. “Come on. Come home with me, honey.”

As Marianne shuffled out the front door, Danielle called back into the house. “Soph, he’s gone now.”

“I’m coming,” called Mom from down the hall.

Marianne felt as if she should be confused and asking questions, but didn’t have the will. What was happening would happen.

Mom came out to the porch, slipped her arm through Marianne’s, and towed her next door in Danielle’s wake. A moment later, Marianne was placed in a seat at the smoky black glass dining table, the other two facing her in chairs on the other side.

They stared at her.

Marianne stared at her knees.

She could tell they were looking at each other nervously.

“What do you want to know?” said Marianne, in a dead kind of whisper. “I’ll tell you whatever.”

Mom took a deep breath, then said, “Why’d he dump you?”

“Lying,” said Marianne.

Danielle hesitated, drumming her fingers on the table. “About what?”

Marianne lifted her head and looked into their faces, one at a time. “Everything.”

By that afternoon, she had no more secrets. Too late—far too late—to matter.

Thanksgiving came that Thursday. It went fine.

A week later, Marianne lay on Danielle’s couch watching dust specks flutter around in front of the window. The older kids were at school and the babies were napping, so it was quiet in the house except for Danielle’s muffled phone conversation. Marianne pulled the chenille throw blanket up around her shoulders. She knew who was on the other end of the line.

Danielle came in a few minutes later and leaned against the wall, slapping the phone into her palm absentmindedly. “That was him. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” whispered Marianne.

“I didn’t say anything about you,” said Danielle. “Just like I promised.”

“I know.”

“He’s getting a new tattoo tonight.”

“Oh.”

Danielle looked down at the ground. “I think it’s time for you to get up now.” She wasn’t happy.

“What?” Marianne sat up on the couch and waited for it.

Danielle looked out the window. “Brook is going along with him to the shop.”

“Oh.”

Danielle’s blank expression faltered when she looked at Marianne, but she put it back soon enough. “You know what that means?”

Of course she knew. Marianne wanted to nod, but it didn’t happen for some reason.

Danielle let out an almost inaudible whimper and then cleared her throat. “That means that you have to get up now.” She paused. “You aren’t allowed to mope around after the guy moves on. You’ll look lame.”

“I’ll look lame?” repeated Marianne.

Danielle nodded.

Marianne nodded back. She would look lame. Really lame. She stood up, letting the blanket fall to the floor. “I’m not going to look lame.”

Danielle coughed.

“Sorry,” mumbled Marianne. She reached down and put the blanket back into its place on the couch. “I’m going to... get up.”

“Darn right.”

Marianne inhaled deeply. “I’m going to get the hell up and not look lame!”

“Yes!” Danielle shook the phone at her. “That’s my girl. Call up your friends. Wash your gnarly face. Go out. Don’t look lame.”

“Okay!” Marianne bent down and picked up her slippers. “I’m going out. I’m going to get out of these stupid jammies and fix myself up. I’m going to...” Marianne gave up the charade and collapsed into a wailing heap on the couch. Brook! It hadn’t even been two weeks! “And not just any girl!” she moaned. “She’s tall and gorgeous, and—”

“And way nicer than you,” said Danielle.

“Crazy nice!” said Marianne. “And fun as hell. She has a perfect ass. I mean, how the hell am I supposed to compete with that crap?”

“Not that it matters,” said Danielle, lighting up a cigarette right there in the living room. “Because he wouldn’t take you back, anyway.”

“And!” said Marianne. “Have you seen her skin? It’s like it was airbrushed on.”

Danielle nodded. “And she’s not a liar.”

“Well, no,” said Marianne. She sat up and sniffed. “She lied, too.”

“But she had a good reason,” said Danielle. “You just do it for the fun of it.”

Marianne sputtered a bit. “When I tried to tell him, he didn’t want to hear it!”

“Of course not,” said Danielle. “I didn’t raise a wuss. You jacked him over for too long, and he kicked you to the curb for it, dang it.”

“Dang it.” Marianne buried her head under the couch cushions and didn’t come up again. She looked really lame.

Marianne slept all that week. Seriously, the whole week. Like a tweaker coming down before a drug test. She woke on Friday night around eight because there were people jumping on her bed.

She blinked into the dark. “What the?”

“Get up, lazy butt,” said Sally. “We’ve all—” Jump. “–had quite enough—” Jump. “–of this nonsense.”

“Yeah,” said Georgia, slightly out of breath. “You look lame.”

Marianne had heard that line before. She jerked upright in bed. “Who’s we?” Sally and Georgia each grabbed an arm and pulled her off the bed. They didn’t even let her stop to slip on a bra before they towed her out of her room and through the house to the backyard. Marianne stopped on the porch in ultimate disbelief.

Randy Travis was blaring out of the stereo. Mom had her eyes closed, working her outdated moves in the middle of the patio, wineglass in hand. Danielle was lying on a lawn chair in her bikini, smoking and singing along. Nana Deathrage was swimming in the pool. Naked.

“Come swimming, Marianne,” called Georgia