Marianne

by Elizabeth Hammer

  Silence.

  “I love him,” said Marianne, dropping her arms. “I love him, and I’m going to prove it for once. I don’t care if he rejects me.”

  Danielle shook her head. Sighed. Then she flung the blanket off herself and stood up. “All right,” she said. “If you’re sure, then I’ll help you.”

  Marianne stared. “You will?”

  Danielle nodded and started pacing.

  “What? Now?” said Mom. “Right now?”

  “Hell, yes,” said Danielle. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

  Sally squealed and ran toward the den. “I’ll get some pencils! Let’s get planning.”

  29

  If You Don’t Believe Me, You’re in De-Nile

  It was quickly decided that a face-to-face talk would never work. Marianne had broken down in tears three times before they’d even gotten settled around the kitchen table to discuss tactics.

  “Texting,” said Sally. “It’s the only way.”

  “That’s insane,” said Danielle. “She could send a confession every hour, and it would still take her fifty years to finish.”

  “So be it,” said Sally. She pushed the cell phone across the table to Marianne. “You should get started then.”

  Marianne opened her phone. She put her fingers on the keys and opened a new message. She looked up. “What do I say?”

  “It doesn’t matter, sweetie,” said Mom. “So long as it’s not a lie.”

  Marianne snorted once and then started weeping again. She took a few minutes to get herself together and typed out the following:

  Patrick, I totally get now why you broke up with me. You were right to do it. Please don’t respond to any of this. I just wanted to let you know: I’m sorry.

  Marianne shut her eyes tight and hit send.

  “Hey, look,” said Georgia. “It’s twelve o’clock on the nose.”

  Marianne opened her eyes and glanced at the clock. Amazing. She smiled and took it as a sign. “Okay then,” she said. “One per hour.”

  One o’clock:

  They had quite a list going. Sally was the secretary, Georgia the idea girl, Danielle the nay-sayer, and Mom the encourager. Nana just kept the coffee cups refilled.

  “Geez. I get it, Dan,” said Marianne. “I know it’s not a true confession, but it’s an admission. The most important one. He needs to hear me say it.”

  “Fine,” said Danielle. “This really is going to take fifty years.”

  Marianne rolled her eyes and sent her one o’clock message:

  The second thing I’d like to tell you is: I’m a liar. You know that already, but it had to be said.

  Two o’clock:

  Marianne sat on the floor of the living room with all the girls, hands shaking like crazy. “No, it’s okay,” she said, trying to type. “I can do it. This is just a bit harder than I thought it would be.”

  Georgia nodded. “Yeah. This one is really gonna freak him out.”

  Marianne looked up. “You think?”

  “Of course, it will,” said Danielle. “But that’s the point, right? If you’re going to wuss out and not confess the hard stuff, then you might as well quit.”

  Marianne nodded. “You’re right.” She hit send.

  I threw up in the ladies’ restroom on our first date.

  “Oh, crap!” wailed Marianne. “What did I just do?” She slammed the phone shut and chucked it across the room. “He’s going to think I’m such a freak! What if all this just pisses him off more? What if…” Marianne trailed off in horror.

  “What?” said Sally.

  “What if he’s with Brook?” whined Marianne. “What if he shows her? What if they’re laughing at me right now?”

  “Marianne!” said Mom. “Pull yourself together.”

  Marianne stopped trying to tug out her hair and nodded.

  “This was the plan, right?” said Mom. “You knew the risks. You knew it would be embarrassing. You knew you would regret it at some point.”

  “Yeah,” said Marianne. “Yeah.”

  “Just breathe,” said Mom. “I mean, he already knows you’re a fool. What’s the big deal?”

  Marianne whimpered and collapsed on the rug.

  Three o’clock:

  Marianne’s phone alarm beeped to wake her. This was unnecessary, as she was still lying awake in the dark. She checked Sally’s list, typed out her message, and closed her eyes. “Oh, baby,” she mouthed, hugging the phone to her chest. “I’m so sorry for all this. Never again.”

  I got drunk for the first time in my life during your second trip to Monterey.

  Four o’clock:

  Marianne sat on the front porch in Dad’s bathrobe listening to the gentle hiss of the city waking. She still had not slept.

  Sometimes I smoke cigarettes, e.g., when I first told you that I loved you and right now.

  She hit send and lit another clove. “Lovely,” she said to herself. “This whole thing is just fracking lovely.” Seriously, who comes up with crap like this and actually does it? “Crazy ole bitches, that’s who,” she sang.

  Okay. She was making up rap melodies, now. Time for bed.

  Five o’clock:

  Wake up. Type. Sit up and blink a bit. Check for typos.

  I almost got arrested at the beach for having pot in my backpack. That’s how I lost my phone.

  Send. Back to sleep.

  Six o’clock:

  A guy named Ben tried to kiss me at the beach. Well, he actually did kiss me, but I didn’t kiss him back.

  Seven o’clock:

  I got drunk at that beach party, too. It was a bad night.

  Eight o’clock:

  If Marianne had any pride left, this text demolished it.

  I’m crazy jealous of Brook—that she’s pretty—that she’s always nice—that she was pregnant with your baby—Everything.

  She flopped back down onto her sleeping bag. “Nana?” Everyone else was in the kitchen fighting over who messed up the math on the coffee grounds and how the pot could be salvaged.

  “Yes, darling?”

  “I have a stomachache.”

  “We all do, honey,” said Nana, patting Marianne on the knee.

  “Dan was right,” said Marianne. “This is going to take fifty years. I don’t think I can keep it up that long, though.”

  Mom laughed as she walked into the room.

  “I’m serious!” Marianne sat up and stared at the ceiling. “How long should I do this? We’ve got that list, but when is enough enough?”

  Sally shuffled into the room, blowing on her coffee. “I was thinking about that,” she said, handing another cup to Marianne. “You started at midnight, so how about you keep going till midnight?”

  Marianne made a face. “That sounds like a cheesy movie plot.”

  Sally raised her eyebrows. “I think you have to admit that we’re already there, babe.”

  Marianne nodded. “And then?”

  Sally shrugged.

  Danielle sighed from the doorway. “Do I have to do everything around here?” She took a sip from her mug. “Then you meet him. You ask him to meet you at midnight and make up his frigging mind.”

  Marianne wrapped her arms around the ache in her stomach. “I thought you said he’d already made up his mind.”

  “No,” said Danielle. “I said he’d say no. It’s not quite the same thing.”

  Marianne nodded. “Okay. I guess I could do that. Should I meet him here?”

  “Oh, my gosh!” shouted Georgia, running flat out from the kitchen, sloshing coffee all over the floor. “I’ve got it!”

  Danielle spun around. “You are such a spazz, kid.”

  “I know, I know,” said Georgia, panting. “But listen… Don’t text him anything about how you’ve been dressing Goth. Save that, and then meet him outside of Disneyland tonight after Bats Day. All dressed up. It’ll be this huge, amazing reveal!”

  Marianne stood up, horrified. “That is the worst, most appalling a
nd humiliating idea I have ever heard.”

  “Yes, it is,” said Danielle, smiling. “It’s perfect.”

  “No!” shouted Marianne.

  Sally was grinning. “Come on, Marianne. That would be pretty rad, admit it.”

  Marianne just shook her head, feeling the entire universe collapsing down around her. She turned to Mom for an ally. “Please. No. Please.”

  Mom shrugged. “It does kind of fit with this whole honesty thing you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “Yes.” Marianne started rubbing her temples. “But it’s also really, really lame.”

  “Really lame,” said Nana.

  “Thank you,” said Marianne.

  “You’re welcome,” said Nana. “But you’d better do it.”

  Marianne dropped her hands and closed her eyes. They were right. As much as she hated them for it, they were right. “Fine,” she said. “But if he laughs, I’m going to kill myself. Just know that.”

  Nine o’clock:

  Marianne almost missed her deadline because she was in the middle of the make-over and didn’t hear the alarm. She was also annoyed at how bossy Sally was getting, so she changed the order of the messages and sent this one to make herself feel better:

  Sally is my best friend. I said I didn’t like her much because she’s Goth, and you think Goth is lame. More on the Goth subject later.

  “Did I see my name?” asked Sally. “I thought that one was scheduled for two o’clock.”

  “Butt out,” said Marianne, snapping her phone shut. “And don’t even bother with that thing,” she said, pointing to the handmade Elvira dress that Sally had sewn for her a long time ago. “I told you; it’s too small.”

  “And I told you that you’d be skinnier by Bats Day.” Sally stood and shook the wrinkles out of the black gown. “Didn’t I?”

  Ugh. Marianne slouched down in her chair, causing Danielle to cuss at her for yanking the curling iron she was wielding.

  Ten o’clock:

  I used to steal your phone once a week and check your call history to see if you were cheating on me. Sometimes twice a week.

  Eleven o’clock:

  Marianne was ready. The dress turned out to be lovely, not Elvira-ish at all. And it fit her perfectly, as prophesied. Dad even looked teary when he saw her.

  The top was like a corset, heart-shaped over the bust, but not too low, with thin leather laces crisscrossing up and down each side. The lacing continued down across the hips, holding the tight fit until the skirt flared out at the calves. After Marianne slipped her feet into the black heels, the length was perfect, just brushing the ground. Sally even produced a pair of black, elbow-length gloves out of nowhere.

  Danielle had curled her long hair, piling it dramatically atop her head with some of Mom’s old fancy combs stuck in here and there.

  Georgia had handled the makeup. It was… Oh heck; it was awesome; she had to admit. Pasty skin, huge black eyes, and black lipstick. Marianne kept getting the false eyelashes stuck when she closed her eyes, but they looked rad. Poor Georgia had had to do the whole thing twice, though, because Marianne cried off the first layer when Nana came in and gave her an old family brooch to pin on her dress.

  She turned away from the mirror when her phone beeped and typed out her eleven o’clock text. This one made her feel a bit manipulative, but, hey, she needed all the pity he was willing to give:

  Back when we were together, I would lay in bed at night and plan our wedding. We usually just ran off to Vegas in our jeans and flip-flops.

  “I’m ready,” said Marianne. “Let’s go to Bats Day.”

  Noon:

  Marianne was in line for The Jungle Cruise along with their whole motley Goth crowd. “What do you think?” she said to Sally. “Should I use this text to ask him to come at midnight?”

  Sally chewed on her lip. “What was your last one about?”

  “The wedding fantasy.”

  Ben looked over when Marianne said that, giving her a funny look.

  She smiled back and waved her phone. “I’m texting my boyfriend.” She cleared her throat. “Ex-boyfriend. I’m trying to get him back.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t heard that you… Well…” He seemed to blush a little but quickly recovered. “Wait. You’re groveling by text message?”

  “No. Kind of.” Marianne shrugged. “Yes.”

  “No, she is not,” said Sally, shoving Marianne. “She’s confessing.”

  Todd stuck his head in closer. “Confessing what?”

  Sally started to tell the story, and by the time she’d finished, Marianne had twenty different people shouting suggestions and advice at her. It was mayhem. They were passing her crumpled up list of sins around from person to person, congratulating her on the worst ones, and correcting her grammar. Even Ben was getting excited and calling out revisions to the plan. She’d never been so popular.

  “Do number eight!”

  “No, just wait,” said Marianne. “I’ve already got my text for this hour…”

  “Tell him what you’re wearing!”

  “I can’t,” sighed Marianne. “That’ll ruin the reveal, remember?”

  Someone shouted something from the back.

  “What?” said Marianne, straining to hear. “I never made out with Andrew! Is that on the list? Someone erase that! Geez!” Marianne detached herself from the middle of the group and walked over to the corner. “Go away. I’ll show it to you when I’m done.”

  “But how about—”

  Marianne had to put the phone behind her back to keep one of the kids from grabbing at it again. “I said I’ll show you after.” She glared at the rest of them to keep their distance. “You, too, vampire-boy. Beat it.”

  I don’t know if you’re getting these, but here goes… I want another chance, even though I don’t deserve one. I’ll be at the entrance to Downtown Disney at 12 AM. No lies. Just me. Think about it.

  And just like that, Bats Day wasn’t so fun anymore. It was sent. She was committed. When Vampire-boy came and tried to steal her phone again, she just stared off into space and let him.

  One o’clock:

  “Oh my gosh, stop it!” shouted Marianne. The Goths were helping her order her list and rack her brain for anything she’d forgotten to add. “I told you, that thing about the dress was stupid; I’m only sending the important ones.”

  “A lie is a lie,” said some girl named Raven. “Plus, it’s about money which translates into relationships.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Marianne, bending down toward her list. “I’ll write it down, but I don’t know if I’ll use it.”

  Georgia suddenly popped up from her bench by the stump-looking ashtray. “Got one!”

  “Oh, good,” said Marianne. “What?”

  “When you kissed me.”

  Marianne dropped her pen. “Huh?”

  “Remember,” said Georgia, flailing her hands in excitement. “At the beach, when we kissed!”

  “What the?” Marianne could hardly close her mouth. “You mean when you fell onto my face?”

  Georgia nodded. “Yeah.”

  “What the hell? Georgia!” Marianne looked toward the others for help. “I can’t… That’s not even a real thing… He’ll think I’m a lesbian!”

  “But, but…”

  “Sit down!” shouted Marianne. “Anyone else got anything?”

  “Just do the co-dependent ladies, Marianne,” said Sally. “You’re running out of time.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  Those ladies at the arcade were yelling at you because I told them my boyfriend was abnormal.

  Two o’clock:

  Sally had to type out and send the text because Marianne was rather indisposed. She’d broken down so badly that Georgia had to stick her in a restroom stall to protect all the poor children who were walking by.

  “He’s not going to show,” wailed Marianne. “This was so stupid! What was I thinking?”

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” said Georgia, pa
tting her back. “It’s okay.”

  Marianne sat up and dried her face with her wad of toilet paper. “And now my makeup’s all ruined.”

  “I brought some with me,” said Georgia, patting her again. She handed Marianne a new bunch of toilet paper. “Just relax.”

  “I can’t.” She was fully hyperventilating now. “I can’t. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Oh, you know that’s not true, honey,” said Georgia. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if that were true.”

  Sobs. “Why do you hate me?” moaned Marianne.

  The door to the stall banged open. “All right, kid,” said Sally. “We sent it.”

  Marianne whipped her head up and wiped her nose. “Which one? What’d you say? Read it to me.”

  Sally flipped open Marianne’s phone and read, “‘Remember that poem from Dark Lord Alvin? I actually did think it was catchy.’”

  “No!” screamed Marianne. “I only thought it was almost catchy. The tiniest bit catchy. I wasn’t even going to use that one because it’s so insignificant.”

  “I know, I know,” said Sally, rolling her eyes. “But Ben thought it would be a good setup for the dishwasher one.” She shrugged. “He thinks you need to lighten the mood between the hard confessions. Plus, Alvin was moping around behind us. He was still acting butt-hurt because you said you weren’t going to use it.”

  “You dorks! You dorks!”

  Three o’clock:

  This next one didn’t go much better. When the time came, Marianne refused to send the agreed-upon message because it was too mean, and Andrew had to wrestle the phone away from her and go send it himself.