The Swailing

Maine: Hello

We pull up in front of a quaint brick house with a little white gate in front of it, and a hedge of some tiny bushes. It's similar to all the houses around it, but somehow looks more homey and welcoming. My heart is pounding so hard I imagine it shaking the car, making the sidewalk tremble, making the still-green leaves on those bushes flutter.

Finn puts the car in park and turns towards me.

"I'll wait here," he says.

I shake my head. "No. I need you to come with me."

"No you don't."

"Yes," I say. "I do."

I look into his eyes and he looks back. Then he reaches down to take my hand and flips it palm up. He traces his thumb gently across my new tattoo, and then looks up at me.

"I'm not afraid," I insist. I steady my shaking voice. "I'm not. I just ... need you."

He looks at me for another long moment, his head tilted slightly to one side. Neither of us looks away. He lets out a long, slow breath and slides his hand to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against my jaw, tracing the edge of my earlobe. I lean into his hand and close my eyes for a second. When I open them again, he pulls me towards him and presses his soft, warm lips to mine.

I forget for a moment where I am, what I'm doing, what I'm about to do. I forget everything but the glowing embers in my belly and the feel of his fingers on my neck, his mouth against mine, his breath on my skin. Suddenly I remember. I remember kissing him the other night, and how it made me feel restless and hungry. I remember his hands pressed against the brick wall and how I wanted him to touch me.

He's touching me now. His other hand finds its way up to cradle my face and I cling to his shirt, my fingers twisted in the soft cotton. He kisses me again, and again, and each kiss fans the inferno building in my stomach.

When he pulls away, I want to groan, want to yank him back. But this isn't the time. I open my eyes. He rests his forehead against mine.

"You don't need me," he says quietly. "But I'll come with you if you want me to."

I nod, not sure I can speak.

"I want you," I say, and then belatedly add, "to." He smiles and lets his hand fall from my neck.

"Then let's do this."

We get out of the car and walk up the path together. I don't know about Finn, but my legs are feeling a little shaky. I'm not sure if it's from nerves or from that kiss in the car. Finn gives me an encouraging nod and I hesitate just a second more before knocking on the door.

We wait. And no one answers.

I knock again. Still no one.

"Well," I say. "That's a bit anticlimactic."

Finn's laugh makes me smile, despite my disappointment.

We walk back to the car and he opens my door for me. He's been doing that lately, since we were down South. I know it's old fashioned and maybe even sexist, but I find I like it. I like the way he closes it for me after I get in, too.

Finn suggests we go to the city hall or the courthouse or the local high school and try to get more information about my mom and Camden. I agree it's as good a plan as any. But as we are about to pull away from the curb, a boy on a bike rides up the short driveway. Not a boy, really – a teenager.

He's tall with dark, thick hair. A little husky.

I reach out and squeeze Finn's arm.

"You think that's him?" he asks.