I take it and wind it around my neck and shoulders. It’s soft, maybe cashmere, and smells of trees and wood, mixed with something sweet. I imagine myself wearing it to school, if I was a girl who went to school, proudly displaying it to my friends, the treasure of having the scarf of the boy I like.
“The other day, did you mean what you said?” I ask him.
Finn turns right, heading toward the ocean. “What did I say?”
“After my audience. About maybe believing in me.”
“Yes.”
My heart lifts.
“At the time,” he adds.
It crashes. “But not anymore?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I’m not the type to believe in miracles. But I also can’t get the spectacle of it out of my head.”
I don’t speak. I can’t move. I don’t want to be a spectacle to Finn.
His breaths are clipped. “Do you want me to? Believe in you?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes. Yes, I think.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? What prompted this urgent outing?”
“Later,” I say. Then, “Can we just be quiet for a while?”
“Okay,” he says.
We fall silent. Listen to the rumble of the engine. The town recedes in the side mirror and eventually disappears. I slip out of my coffee-spattered shoes and pull my knees to my chest, wrap the hem of my white dress under my bare feet. Turn my head toward Finn and watch as he drives. There is stubble on his cheek, unlike when I see him at Angie’s center. His hair is a bit messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it. His eyelashes are long, his lips a pale red. Something unidentifiable swells quickly and instantly and I am dizzy with it. I want to touch Finn. I want to possess him. I want to—
“—pull over,” I say.
“Marlena, what? Are you okay—”
“—please?”
He shifts the truck into the breakdown lane along the seawall, where people in the town like to park and drink coffee or eat lunch while they look out at the ocean. We come to a stop in a deserted stretch of it. Seagulls circle over a spot in the water where there must be lots of fish. I uncurl my legs. Look at Finn. Stare at him. Grip the ends of his scarf like my life depends on it. My hands can’t be trusted. He turns to me.
“Kiss me,” I say.
His eyes widen. “What?”
I lean closer. “Kiss me.”
Finn blinks.
“I want you to kiss me,” I say a third time, like he didn’t understand the first or the second, like this one might magically get through to him. I edge closer, nearly climbing over the gear shift, desperate with wanting, wanting him to be mine, wanting to know what it’s like to love and be loved. The want is a wave and it’s lifting me up, threatening to tumble me straight into the rocky shore. “Finn . . . just . . . just do it. I’ve never . . . just . . . please . . .”
“Marlena.” My name is a statement, soft and gentle.
It’s also a no.
I pull back, ashamed. My cheeks burn. Tears sting my eyes. What is happening to me? What is wrong with me? “I’m sorry. That was so stupid.” My voice is a tiny round pebble. “I’m so stupid and I’ve ruined everything.” I shift my body toward the window, pressing my forehead against the glass. My breaths create a fog across it, a pale round disk of crystals. I fumble for the latch on the door. Before I can open it, I feel a hand on my arm.
“Don’t go,” Finn says.
I stop.
He doesn’t move his hand. Instead, he presses it more firmly against me. His touch sends stars streaming before my eyes, bright and bursting. I can’t tell the difference between desire, longing, and visions when I’m with Finn. Maybe they’re one and the same with him.
“Please stay.”
“I’m such an idiot,” I whisper.
“You’re not.”
“Stop being so nice to me. I know. I know the deal. You’ll never want me now.” The glass has gone warm against my forehead. I slump back against the passenger seat. “And why would you? I try to pretend like I might be normal, like I could be, but I’m not and never will be. I was crazy to think someone like me might have a chance with someone like you.” My eyes are on my lap. “I’m so mortified,” I whisper.
“Marlena,” Finn says. “You’re not crazy. Don’t be embarrassed. Please.” His fingers slide along my arm until they reach my hand. He takes it into his and holds it. “I’ve thought about kissing you,” he says.
Red, pink, and orange flashes before me. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I turn to Finn, see him through the sunrise in my eyes. “You have?”
He stares out the front of the truck, but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Since the first moment I saw you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You think you feel crazy, but I’m the one who’s felt crazy. I . . . I shouldn’t be thinking of you this way.”
“Why? Because of Angie’s study?”
He returns my hand to my lap and places his on the gear shift. The colors in my vision fade. He shakes his head. “Mostly it’s because of me. And because of who you are. Because I don’t know what to make of you.”
His words are vague, but I know where he’s going. “Because you don’t believe in me.”
Finn sighs. “That’s pretty much the first thing I said to you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Shouldn’t you?”
“What I care about is that you see me as Marlena. Not Marlena the Healer or Marlena the Saint, but just as me.”
“But you’re not . . .”
“I’m not normal?” I finish. I wait for Finn to confirm this, that no, I could never be normal to him, that he could never see me as just Marlena. Or to convince me that he could see me this way. That one day he will. Instead of responding to my question, Finn changes the subject. “Are you going to tell me what happened to make you call me?”
The air deflates from my lungs. Answers enter my mind and leave the other side.
It wasn’t because I wanted to try and kiss you.
It wasn’t to confess my feelings for you.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Finn rolls down his window. I roll down mine. We sit there, watching gulls circle and dive, circle and dive. The sound of the waves slapping the rocks helps to lessen the tension. I hope the fire in my cheeks is fading.
Eventually Finn speaks. “Let’s go get something to eat. You won’t tell me what happened, but I’m assuming you’re not ready to go home yet. Right?”
“Yes. Right. I don’t want to go home.”
Finn shifts into gear and backs up the truck a little. “Okay, then.”
We pull out into the street.
“Where are we going?”
He shrugs. “You’ll see.”
I stare at my gauzy white sheath, the long pale sweater over it. The ends of Finn’s soft gray scarf. I wish I could go home and change my clothes. This is definitely not how I thought this day would turn out. The truck rumbles over a pothole and the two of us bounce. The bottom of his heart tattoo is visible, then hidden, visible, then hidden under his sleeve as Finn shifts and turns the wheel. It has the effect of seeming to beat.
“Marlena . . .”
I bite my lip. The heart on his skin flashes bright as the red sun of morning. Or maybe my eyes are playing tricks. “What?”
“I do see you as Marlena. But you are still Marlena the Healer. This . . . this magical creature who I watched walk among the sick on Saturday, like some sort of apostle. I can’t exactly forget that part.”