Chapter 4 - GASOLINE AND GLITTER
They pulled into a dusty gas station two hours later,
miles away from the nearest freeway.
The sign above the pumps groaned in the wind,
flickering with a dull neon hum.
Jaxson cut the engine,
and the sudden quiet was jarring.
Emily looked at herself in the side mirror,
startled by the woman staring back.
Her mascara was smudged,
her hair was a wild nest of blonde tangles,
and she was wearing a man's oversized flannel over a wedding gown.
"I need a bathroom,"
she said,
reaching for the door handle.
Jaxson hopped out of the truck,
moving with a fluid,
athletic grace.
"Try not to scare the locals,"
he said,
tossing a five-dollar bill onto the seat.
"Buy a soda or something."
"We need to look normal."
"Normal?"
Emily gestured to her dress.
"I look like a runaway bride from a bad country music video."
"Exactly,"
Jaxson said,
starting the pump.
"Nobody expects a runaway bride to be traveling with me."
Emily climbed out,
her bare foot hitting the cold pavement.
She limped toward the small convenience store,
the silk of her skirt dragging through the oil stains on the ground.
As she pushed open the glass door,
a bell chimed.
The teenager behind the counter,
who was wearing headphones and a bored expression,
dropped his phone.
He stared at her as if she were an alien life form.
Emily ignored him,
marching toward the back of the store.
In the tiny,
dimly lit bathroom,
she splashed cold water on her face.
The reflection in the cracked mirror was a mess,
but for the first time in months,
her eyes weren't dull.
She tore a strip of lace from the bottom of her dress that was hanging by a thread.
She used it to tie her hair back into a rough ponytail.
When she stepped out,
Jaxson was standing near the refrigerated section,
holding two bottles of water and a bag of beef jerky.
He looked her up and down,
his expression unreadable.
"Better?"
he asked.
"I’m a catastrophe,"
she said,
picking up a pair of cheap plastic flip-flops from a display rack.
She threw them on the counter along with Jaxson's soda.
As they walked back to the truck,
the rain finally began to fall.
Large,
heavy drops splattered against the white fabric of her gown,
turning it gray and heavy.
Jaxson held the door open for her,
his hand lingering on the frame.
"You know,"
he said as she slid in,
"Ryan is going to be looking for you."
"He’s not the type to let a loss go."
Emily pulled on the flip-flops,
the plastic feeling like luxury compared to the gravel.
"He won't think I’m with you,"
she said.
"He thinks you're a ghost."
"Well,"
Jaxson said,
climbing into the driver's seat and starting the engine,
"ghosts have a habit of haunting the people who try to forget them."
"And Ryan has a very long memory."
He pulled back onto the road,
the wipers swiping rhythmically across the glass.
The glitter from Emily's dress had rubbed off on the seat,
the dashboard,
and even Jaxson’s arm.
It caught the dim light,
shimmering like fallen stars in the middle of the dark mountain pass.
"Where are we really going,
Jax?"
she asked softly.
He looked at her then,
a real look that stripped away the cynicism.
May you like
"To a place where nobody knows you're supposed to be stable,"
he said.
