My Name's Stella

It was a warm, southern-style evening, much like any other March evening in his small community. He was minding his own business, pumping gas into his SUV, just thinking about his dinner when he heard her: "You tryin' to clean it up a little baby?" He assumes she had been watching as he picked up a floor mat to shake out the dirt.

All he wants is to get his gas, get a sandwich, and get back to the solace of his home... all without any fanfare. He is thinking, Not tonight. But he is forced to say, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Hold on." By this time she is approaching him. He turns, and they lock eyes. He sees something in her wild smile. What is it? Is this why I came out tonight? Stella is about to say hello.

She is an unusual looking woman. In fact, with the way she's dressed and the way she carries herself, it is easy to mistake her for a male. There are very few teeth in her mouth. He can tell by her ever-widening grin. "Can you spare some change so I can get something to eat?"

She reeks of cigarettes and old alcohol, but that smile. What is it? "You like Subway?" is all he can muster. Her eyes twinkle as she says, "Oh, it's my favorite!" He is smiling without knowing it as he suggests that she go ahead and place her order.

Once he tops off his tank, he parks the big SUV and walks inside. There she is dancing and singing to the apparent music playing in her cap-covered head. When she sees him she stops and with a genuine look of appreciation, introduces herself, "My name's Stella. What's your name?"

Before he knows it, words are coming out of his mouth that he is certain did not originate in his head. He turns so no one can see, and handing her a twenty dollar bill, he whispers, "Here. Why don't you use your own money." Her exuberance was infectious, and before he can prepare himself, with the whole store observing, she literally leaps to him. She gives him a hug so big he is certain she no longer smells like stale smoke and beer.

After joking and talking about their common acquaintances in the community, he comes to the realization that they only live two miles apart. You see, as he heads home to his high-end neighborhood, he passes many shacks and trailers scattered on both sides of the winding country road. He wonders which one is hers. Then as if divinely inspired, covered in goosebumps he tells her how glad he is to meet her. At which point he discovers that he really means it.

Stella, his new friend, floats out the door with her foot-long combo and disappears into the night. He is left standing there reflecting in amazement at the events of the last half hour. Now smiling bigger than he has in a while, he makes his way to his truck, and with a rekindling of sorts taking place in the embers of his spirit, he returns home. 

After enjoying his meal, and still treasuring his experience, he realizes why he ventured out this evening. He heads straight for his computer, and begins to write. Stella has inspired a new post that serves as a vivid reminder that there is no them.

Thanks Stella!