Polaroids and Postcards | ✔️

Chapter 23: Back on the Road

"Live life with no excuses, travel with no regret" - Oscar Wilde

•••

Sometimes when scary things happen to us, they happen in slow motion. It's like our brains are lagging because they need the extra time to process whatever the heck is going on around us. Some people might even call it a "defense mechanism," because supposedly that extra point-two-five seconds is all your brain needs to create an appropriate response to the situation.

However, when Della collapsed, she fell at full speed.

And I was not ready.

Thankfully, she didn't hit her head or anything. I somehow managed to break the majority of her fall before that happened. But still... she fainted. And it scared the hell out of me.

It was obviously because of the fever. That, and she was probably super dehydrated after vomiting like eight times last night.

"Della Rae, what's wrong with you?" I murmured, scooping her lifeless body up into my arms. I lumbered over to the bed and laid her in it once more.

She was burning up.

What the heck was I supposed to do to bring her fever down? She was unconscious!

Focus, Jason. Focus...

I inhaled and exhaled.

"Cool water. Fluids. Ice," I chanted to myself. "Cool water, fluids, ice..."

•••

She wasn't out for long. In fact, Della woke up only minutes after she fainted. She seemed confused for a moment or two, and she wasted no time in calling me on it.

"Jason, what the frick?"

"You're awake!" I exclaimed, relieved that it wasn't a permanent situation.

"Was I asleep?" she asked, gravely.

"You passed out," I replied, approaching her with two ginger ales. "I think you're just dehydrated."

She sat up in the bed and took one of the drinks from me, sipping it slowly. She seemed to be mulling over the event as I watched her carefully, desperately searching for any signs of serious illness. I tried to appear unconcerned as I sipped my ginger ale as well.

Was she okay? Was this just a fluke incident? Was she really just carsick and dehydrated?

Della finally caught me staring at her, and she pursed her lips together.

"Take a Polaroid; it'll last longer."

I instantly choked on a large mouthful of my drink, and began to have a violent coughing fit.

In response to this sudden spurt of coughing, Della cackled with her usual cheery laughter and began to vigorously slap me on the back. "Calm down, I was just kidding. Learn to take a joke, Lovett. But seriously, I kinda do want a Polaroid of this moment. Here, smile!"

She reached over into her bag with one fluid movement and snapped a photo of me coughing.

How can she be joking at a time like this?

When I finally regained a moderate degree of composure, finding that I didn't have to gasp for air nearly as much as before, I managed to ask Della how she was feeling.

"I'm great, Lovett. This ginger-stuff is really helping to settle my stomach."

"Are you sure?" I pressed. "You don't feel any other symptoms?"

"Pshhh, symptoms?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Cheer up, Jason. Like you said, I was just carsick. And apparently dehydrated. Go figure."

She took another swig of her drink for good measure.

"This ginger-drink is really good."

•••

In a few hours, Della seemed much more like herself again. She didn't seem 100% well, but she had definitely improved. She had improved so much, that she even suggested us leaving the motel and driving further before nightfall.

At first, I argued, stating that it was a bad idea and that she should rest for at least one more night before we left. But honestly, I think Della couldn't physically stay put in one place for too long. She was one of those people who don't like watching the sunset from the same spot twice. She was truly built to explore, to move, to fly...

In the end, I relented, but only if she promised to let me continue driving until she was 100% better. Thankfully, this seemed to not bother her anymore. I guess she really did trust me.

Maybe I was doing something right after all.

It was around 5 in the evening when we left the motel, and it wasn't a moment too soon. Just as we were walking out the door, I heard some suspicious scuffling in the walls that sent chills down my spine.

No thanks. I'll pass.

Della took a seat on the passenger's side once more, and leaned the seat back again. After she had made herself comfortable, I cranked up the Beetle, and we were off again.

"Where to, now?" I asked, turning back onto the interstate.

"Well, Lovett, I actually had a couple of stops planned in Louisiana," she smirked, at my panicked expression. "However, since we are already here in Texas, and we missed out on the fun in Louisiana, I'll just have to pull that many more stops here."

"You have to count the pit stop right over the Texas-Louisiana border, and the stop at the motel, though," I insisted. "That's two stops down."

"And many, many more to go..." Della smiled. "Just change lanes and turn when I tell you to, Lovett."

"Do I not get to see the map?" I suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Pshh, I am the map, Jason. Just smile and drive. And trust me."

••••••••••••

Hello, lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this. I know it's a shorter chapter, but I'm focusing on just cranking out the words right now & some chapters are turning out longer than others. Plus, I didn't want to leave you guys without an update for too long.

~ Sooooo, Della's... okay?? Hehe. Guess I scared you all for nothing. ;)

~ Isn't it nice to have the old Della back?

~ Poor Jason, right?? The dude's just worn to a frazzle.

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