"A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles."
•••
"I'm telling you, there is a gas station in a few more miles. There's nothing to be con—"
"We are already on empty, Della! We're gonna run out before we get there."
"Well, we definitely won't make with that kind of attitude in the car," she scoffed, rolling her eyes and turning up the radio.
"I don't have an attitude, Della. I am simply stating a fact."
"But you can't know about things like that ahead of time. Not really."
I crossed my arms and leaned over to rest my head on the window. I still didn't know how to handle the arguments she threw at me. It was weird. Her mind seemed to run in a totally different direction than mine, so I was never sure what to expect from her. It was intriguing and confusing at the same time.
"One can know about the probability of imminent failure. So, yes, you kind of can."
"Uh-huh. Tell me, when did you start being such a glass-is-half-empty-person?"
"I'm not cynical," I sniffed, "I'm being realistic."
"You know, there's a difference between realism and cynicism," she sighed, her grey eyes searching the road ahead. "One says 'this is the way things are' and the other says 'this is the way things turn out every time'. The first one looks at the world and accepts it as it is. The second one takes previous situations and draws a blanket conclusion for every other situation that follows. And usually those are the same people that say things generally tend towards the negative outcome."
"That's because they do," I shrugged, "I mean, think about Murphy's Law. 'Anything that can go wrong will go wrong'."
"The person who invented that was obviously a cynic. Because that doesn't take into consideration the numerous other possibilities that come out of acts fueled by positive things," she stared at me intently. "You can't solve an equation without accounting for all the variables."
I fiddled with a guitar pick I took out of my pocket. "And what are some of these positive variables? Enlighten me."
"Optimists," she grinned, "Dreamers. Acts of kindness, love, and mercy. When you add those in, everything wrong that can happen won't happen. Some of them might, but not all."
I wasn't sure what to say. She seemed so sure of herself, I almost didn't dare to argue.
"But, if you wanna get technical, it also depends on what your definition of 'things going wrong' actually is," she added, cheekily.
I raised an eyebrow. "So now you want to question the existence of right and wrong?"
"No, not that kind of right and wrong. I mean the right and wrong in the grand scheme of the world—the 'accidents' that aren't really accidents."
"So, you mean fate?"
"'Design', I think is a better word."
"Uh-huh... Explain."
Della pursed her lips and let out a small sigh. For a moment, the sun hit the rearview mirrors and reflected onto her hair, creating a sort of iridescent halo. In half a breath, I forgot what we were talking about and wished that I had the stupid camera in my hands. She looked...
Get it together, Jason.
"I think that the so-called 'accidents' or the things that 'go wrong' aren't always bad. Like, your car breaking down when it did... You consider that an accident or a negative occurrence. But I think of it as a good thing!"
I cocked my head in astonishment. "You're glad my car went to pot and left me without a way to California?"
"Ahh, but you aren't without a way to California, are you?" Della returned, smiling smugly, "Because of all the places you could've broken down, it was where I was. And if that hadn't have happened, we'd have never met."
I paused. "Y-yeah, I guess so."
"So," she sighed, popping a random Skittle into her mouth, "at the end of the day, it all worked out for good! We got to meet. And I'm glad we did."
It took my brain a moment to process the last thing she said. It didn't seem to compute with me. Probably because I couldn't actually remember ever hearing it before. I mean, let's face it, I wasn't exactly the most sociable guy on the block. I just don't like people; they confuse the heck out of me. And when I get confused, I panic. Then I have to cover it up with sarcasm. That's just how I operated. Always had and probably always would...
Yet she was glad to meet me?
"You're so confusing, it's insane," I blurted out before I could catch myself.
Della looked over her sunglasses at me. Was she amused? "Uh-huh... Explain."
I ignored the fact that she had just recycled my incredulous words from earlier. "That's just the thing—I can't."
It's like you're living in an entirely different universe of thought, but somehow still manage to make me understand. How do you do that? How do you make me curious? How do you force me to think differently? It's incredibly annoying and distracting and I both hate and...don't quite hate it.
"You can't explain how I confuse you?"
I shook my head. "Not really."
"Interesting."
"Why do you do that?" I leapt at the chance to change the subject.
"Do what?"
"You say that all the time. 'Interesting'... What is so interesting?"
"You are."
I blinked. "You think I'm interesting."
"Yep. People usually are if you see them."
"See them?"
She cocked her head to one side, letting the stray strands of her hair curl over her shoulder. There was no laughter on her lips just then. "If you see past the exterior and look a little further in, it's interesting to see the person that hides underneath. Every once and a while, if you pay close attention, you'll see the real person shining through."
I wanted to ask what she saw in me. What person did she see slipping through my outward appearance? Could she, with her strange point of view, see something that I didn't? But then again, after mulling over her words and how she said them, I wasn't entirely sure she was actually referring to me.
Della Rae...
"Well, would you look at that?" she chuckled, changing lanes and subjects. "What is that I see in the distance?"
I rolled my eyes at her sarcastic tone. "Are we really going to do this? I have a brother, remember. I'm not falling for that."
"Jason, I wasn't trying to prank you. I was just pointing out the gas station. Gosh, show at least a little faith in me."
My head hit the ceiling as I sat up straighter to look through the windshield. I stifled a curse that rose to my lips and rubbed the knot that was coming up as my eyes grazed our salvation. Some salvation... It had a ragged homeless guy out front.
How promising.
"Remember, it's your turn to buy," Della nudged, pulling into the driveway.
"Yeah, don't rub it in, Della," I sniffed.
She shrugged innocently. "Whatever do you mean, Jason? I'm just happy we made it here in one piece."
"Yeah, I'm sure." I clambered out of the Beetle, leaving Della to go inside to collect more snacks. As I fumbled for my wallet, her silvery giggle drifted across to me. She was chatting with the homeless guy while walking into the store! Did the weirdness ever end with her? Didn't she know that it was dangerous to even make eye-contact with people like that? I should know; I lived in New York City. If you didn't watch yourself, you'd end up in an alley without kidneys or your wallet.
Pondering this knowledge, I patted my pockets once again, only to find that they were empty. I popped my head back into the car to look in my seat. It was empty too. I frowned a little and glanced under the seats, in the cup holders, on the dash, and even in the glove compartment for my wallet. It wasn't there. I tore through that car, digging into every crack and crevice, pulling up the mats on the floor, and tacking the mess of a trunk. My wallet was gone.
For two seconds, I considered panicking. And in the third second, I actually did.
"DELLA!!" I took off running into the store.
It didn't take long for me to spot the messy purple braid and the blinding outfit. She was sipping a coffee and clutching a handful of plastic bags that were filled with an overwhelming number of snacks. She was talking animatedly with the lady working the register, but I didn't care that I was interrupting.
"Della's where's my wallet?"
Della turned and fluttered her fingers in greeting. "And this is Jason, Brenda! He's the guy I'm traveling with right now."
"Nice to meet you, Jason," the oval-faced woman nodded. "He's the guitar-player, right?"
"Yeah, that's the one!" Della tittered, sipping her coffee without a care in the world.
"Della, where's my wallet?"
"Jason, this is Brenda. She's been working here at the TinyMart for three years and she has a pet iguana. Isn't that awesome?"
"Della, where is—?"
"Jason, you didn't even say hi," Della glowered disapprovingly.
I turned to give a quick wave. "Hello, Brenda-of-TinyMart-with-the-pet-iguana." I spun back to Della. "My wallet is missing."
"Just check in-between the seats, Jason. It probably fell down and—"
"I've checked the entirety of that vehicle twice, including that terrifying thing you call a trunk. It's not in there."
"Did you check your pockets?"
My face slackened and she quickly picked up the message.
"Fine, I'll come help you. It was nice to meet you, Brenda!"
"Nice to meet you too, Della!" Brenda smiled and gave a light wave as I dragged Della out the door.
"You could have been a little nicer, you know," Della muttered.
"Della, my wallet is missing! Do you not understand me? My entire life savings is in that thing. It's not much, but it's all I can call my own."
Della pulled out of my grip and stared squarely at me. "This isn't a way to get out of paying for the fill up this time, is it?"
"DELLA!!"
"Okay, okayyy..." she hummed, nudging past. "Learn to take a joke, Lovett."
"Excuse me, I do know how to take a joke—when they're actually funny."
"I am funny, Jason. I'm freaking hilarious."
"Della, please..." my voice randomly cracked in anguish. I felt my face grow warm and I instantly looked away before Della could notice. If she heard, she didn't call it to my attention. She softly opened the door on my side of the car and began to comb through the mess I had made while looking earlier. Not a word was spoken.
After she had rummaged through for a few minutes she pulled herself back out into the open and turned her giant eyes to meet mine.
I already knew she didn't find it.
"I think it might be back in Tennessee."
I didn't say anything.
"Remember at Daisy's you took it out and—?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I remember," I breathed quietly. It took an amazing amount of self-control to not punch something in frustration, but I resisted and glared at the gas pump instead. The gas there was ridiculously overpriced anyway.
My companion made no sound, but I could practically feel her staring intensely into my soul again. As if there was one to find hidden away in there... I felt exposed and awkward, and suddenly shifted my weight from my right foot to my left, cramming my hands in my jean pockets. The homeless guy was still sitting outside the store, leaning against a wall of posters and smoking a cigarette he had nicked out of an ashtray.
That'll be me if this keeps up.
When I finally raised my eyes to meet Della's, she was glancing thoughtfully at the several sacks on food she still had in her hands. We definitely didn't need that much food. And her pocketbook had to be limited too. With an extra person to feed, she would run out of funding much sooner than she probably expected.
"Della, maybe it would be a good idea to—"
She didn't seem to hear me. She spun on her heel, marching back towards the store, bags still in hand and her braid flapping in the breeze behind her. She walked with purpose, heading directly for the poster-plastered wall, never looking back at me. As she drew closer, the homeless guy glanced up but didn't bother to move. To my surprise, Della approached him without hesitation and started talking with him again. I stared in a daze as he answered her, returning her smile. The breeze carried away their conversation, but I before long, Della had thrust over half the bags of food into his arms.
What the heck...?
The homeless guy's eyes popped open and he wrinkled his brows in confusion. He stuttered something, but Della immediately waved it away, her lighthearted laugh drifting back my way. He started to say something else, and Della ignored him, pointing out something on the wall, just out of her reach. He cocked his head and jumped to his feet, reaching up to grasp a colorful poster on the wall.
What. The. Heck.
Once the poster was retrieved, Della took it from his outstretched hand and then shook the same grubby hand kindly. I found myself shaking my head in utter bewilderment at this exchange, keeping my eyes glued on the strange little elf I had just snapped at.
When she returned, I couldn't seem to break my gaze. Della cocked her head to one side in a teasing manner, blinking at me. I felt my face grow hot again.
"Don't tell me you actually thought I was buying all of that for us," she scoffed, frowning a little.
"I-I didn't know," I stammered, unsure of what to say. I had thought she bought that for the both of us. I thought she was being ridiculous and wasteful.
She pursed her lips and let out a small sigh. "I'm not stupid, Jason. I may be silly, but I'm not an idiot."
Her words were like a slap in the face. How was that even possible? We'd known each other for two days and she somehow managed to make me feel like a total jerk numerous times. It stung, but something about that sting felt good—like being satisfied with a punishment you rightly deserved.
"I know."
She bit her lip and offered a slight smile. "Besides, I think I might have just found a way to save our tails."
I raised an eyebrow. "How?"
The poster was thrust into my face instantaneously and Della announced. "This is our ticket out of here."
It simply read...
OPEN MIC NIGHT: MUSIC COMPETITION
1ST PLACE - $1000 CASH PRIZE
~
PERFORMER SIGN-IN 6:00-6:30 PM
SHOW STARTS 7:00 PM
•••••••••
Hey, lovely people! First of all, let me say thank you for being so patient for this update of Polaroids and Postcards. I had a battle with writer's block, but I think I'm over it now. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! (It was difficult to get it out. Lol!)
~Favorite moment of this chapter?
~Any Jella shippers out there? (Yes, that is their ship name. You people are hilarious & wonderful for coming up with/selecting it! Thank yooooouuuu) <3
{Please feel free to comment, share, vote, and follow! It helps me out a bunch, guys!}