Norman

The time had finally come.
The commute to college, while she didn't have to make it that often, was really taking a toll on the General. He was getting old. He couldn't handle the highways. He needed to retire from active duty, and spend his twilight years at her parent's place. In front of her sat her new used car. Her eyes glazed over it, and she glanced back at her old friend. Hey, at least her parents wouldn't sell it, just keep it in the driveway for hauling leaves and the sort. General Norman wasn't leaving forever. She gently placed her hand on the black hood and gazed absently inside the cab.
So much had happened in those two seats. Laughter, tears, self-realizations, and a whole damn lot of just thinking. General had seen people come and go, and even seen the few that had stuck around. She felt a lump in her throat. God, she loved that truck.
"Bye G. Norm," she muttered under her breath. "You've been great." As she watched the truck putter out of sight, her parents driving it back home, she almost shed a tear. With a deep breath, she turned to the new car. Hm, she thought. He looks kinda like a "Captain"...

Ryan

She was feeling incredibly lonely nowadays. It wasn't for lack of trying, she just couldn't get acclimated to this whole "college" environment. She'd always been just fine on her own, but this was getting ridiculous. Her laptop was open, and she got a instant message from one of her friends from her acting troupe. She hadn't seen him or talked to him in the past few months, so she replied to him, and they were chatting casually for a minute or two, just comparing college experiences and all. Suddenly, his tone changed. I need to tell you, he said, that I am very very very gay. She sat there for a second. Then laughed. She replied with a smiley and said yay! In her mind she said that she's known that for years. A strange mix of emotion, both nostalgic and longing, seeped into her mind. Longing because she missed him. And her acting troupe. It had always been difficult for her to fit in anywhere, and her troupe was one of the few places she knew she could be accepted. Nostalgia was a little harder to place. Even after she signed off, closed her laptop, and got ready for the evening ahead, she was still wondering where it had come from. Later that night, she realized. It was roughly a year ago when all this madness had started, and since then, so much else had changed. Once the confidant, now hardly any of them spoke to her. She had no idea how they were doing, much less how they felt about it. She sighed and figured well, I guess we're all growing up. Growing apart. Despite the turbulent rollercoaster she and her boys had gone through, she knew she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Carson

It had been great. Homecoming was perfect, and she had slowly been gathering the courage to tell him outright. This was long overdue, and she didn't want to live saying what if. She knew he'd think it was a little cliche, falling for the best friend. It didn't matter. She so rarely revealed these kinds of vulnerabilities, preferring to act as confidant, as the shoulder to cry on, the advice giver, and the patient listening ear. Rejection terrified her, but not knowing was worse.
After rehearsal for the school play, the two climbed into General Norman, and she revved the deafening engine to life. Mentally, she readied herself. Maybe today? Maybe. She looked up just in time to see him send a text message. That was strange. He's not a texter. When she casually asked, he shrugged and said "No one. Levi." His eyes, more green than blue today, stared unseeingly at the dashboard. She knew, almost intuitively, that he was keeping something from her. Immediately she forgot her objective. He never kept secrets from her. Levi must have just told him. Offhandedly, she mentioned that she knew what was going on with him. He stiffened and said abruptly "You don't." Taken aback, she glanced over at him, trying to read his expression while keeping her eyes on the road. She had never seen this expression on his face before. I'll bet I do, she replied. I bet you don't, he said back mockingly. Their eyes met, trying to see how much the other knew. Finesse had never been her strong suit, so she said What's going on? bluntly, and a little sharper than she intended. Silence. Then in a softer tone she added you can tell me. As she took the curve in the road, she looked over at the passenger's seat. He gazed out the window. With an unexpected sigh, he collapsed slightly, like the air being swept from a balloon. Defeated, he said "Levi and I are kinda happening."

She was speechless, for what might have been the first time in her life. Her mind short-circuited and went blank. After what seemed like an extremely long time, she wondered vaguely why neither of them were saying anything. Oh right, it was her turn. All she could come up with was ...what? She must have misheard. "Levi and I are happening." he said again, stronger this time, but something in his voice was off that she hadn't picked up on the first time. Subconciously, she began to realize what this meant. Reflexively she forced herself to stay in the moment. She didn't want to feel whatever this was. Replaying what he just said in her head, she realized suddenly what was off in his voice. He was reaching out, taking a rare leap of faith. She pulled herself together immediately. Working her way through the factual questions, he revealed how long they'd been talking, who approached who, etc., and it seemed to calm both their nerves. She drove around aimlessly; going straight home was out of the question. Finally, she got around to asking the most important question. "Does this mean you're..." I don't know, he cut her off. Neither one of them said it. After a brief pause, she cracked a lame joke, something about therapy and her truck. He laughed, more of a release than out of humor. His laugh stirred at her emotions, which had been slowly building up in the back of her mind. Unthinkingly, she blurted so, uh, you probably already knew this, but I've kinda had a thing for you for the past, like, four years. She clamped her mouth shut, and summoning all her will, dragged the emotions back under control. She laughed and tried to play it off like it wasn't a big deal. It worked. Yeah, I know, he laughed softly. She laughed with him, with a faint hint of hysteria in her voice.
She drove into his neighborhood. She could feel it now. It hurt physically. Her stomach felt like it was in an impossibly tight vice, her ribcage was about to be ripped apart, it was like she was in some twisted Saw trap. She struggled to keep her voice from revealing the lump in her throat, stubbornly refusing her voice to crack. Not yet not yet she frantically thought. Thanks for telling me she said, half smiling at him. Mhm, thanks for everything. Love you! He got out of the cab, turned and smiled at her, his eyes weary, yet still warm. Even as reality was sinking in, she could appreciate that, she thought as he walked into his house.

As she put General into drive and jerked away from his driveway into his cul-de-sac to turn around, the floodgates finally broke. Heartbreak, fresh and searing, washed through her. She could see the entire future they could have had flash before her mind's eye, one image as quickly as the next. Humiliation and rejection, completely irrational, but ever present made her feel like curling up into a ball, never showing her face again. Putting her car in park, she cradled her head in her hands and screamed long and loud. This was it. Her first lesson in unrequited love, knowing that there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say. She was in love with him, and he would never, ever feel return the feeling.

Joey

When he told her, she was not surprised at all. The fact that he casually added the word obviously to the end of his sentence made it clear that he knew who he was and was comfortable with it. She smiled back at him and thanked him for telling her. The two chatted lightheartedly for a few more moments, then she climbed into General Norman and drove off, away from the party, back towards her house. Turning the radio down, she stared out the windshield, halfway paying attention to where she was driving. He had been so composed, so confident in what he said, it was actually kind of inspiring. Slumping down in her seat marginally, she sighed. Some people are just born with that kind of self confidence she thought. She shook her head, as if to clear the self-deprecating thoughts away. Well, this will be one interesting year. She kept driving.

(Definitely a work in progress. Bear with me.)

She

At some point she realized it was too late. Or maybe she had always known, and lived in denial. Either way she knew, sitting on the warm sidewalk on a hot Valdosta afternoon, that there was no going back. It was just a casual talk with her friends, and she was staring off into space, and reality hit her. Hey, her friends said, you alright? You look a little pale. She excused herself from the conversation and just started walking. No no no. She told herself that she was over this, it was nothing serious, get on with life. So why did it keep drifting back into the edge of her thoughts, worming its way into her head, like the lyrics of an annoying song? This should just be like any of the others, she thought, still wandering aimlessly. It should have passed with time. Please, let this one go, there's nothing there. She looked up, finally noticing where her walking had taken her.
The cool air of the VSU library was a welcome relief from the sweltering humidity. She walked to an empty desk, and without thinking, pulled the beat-up blue notebook out of her sling bag that she carried everywhere. She flipped to a blank page, grabbed the mechanical pencil she kept in the spiral binding of the book, and stared at the paper. Now what? she thought. She's not a writer. What the hell was this going to accomplish? Unthinkingly, she titled the paper. Dear Carson...
Two hours and four pages of crossed out passages and hurried chicken scratch later, she put her pencil down and closed the tired old book. Sitting back in her chair, she breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing had changed, but she had written it all down. Even now, she still wasn't sure if it was a confession, a break-up letter, a slam book entry, or somewhere in between all of those. But she knew there was no more hiding from it. She knew that she was in love with Carson, she knew she was going to try everything to get over him, and she knew it wouldn't work. Because she had always loved him, and probably always will.
She felt a tap on her shoulder, and looked up. It was her friends, wanted to know if she was alright. She smiled and responded. Yeah, she said, shoving the notebook and everything it contained, away and out of sight. Let's go grab dinner.

Levi

They had actually grown to be really close since the semester had begun. They'd never really hung out before this year, but they'd seen each other after school and around almost every day. She knew something was going on, but she was waiting on him to broach the subject. It's that kind of thing that, if you guess and you're wrong, it could seriously harm a friendship. Besides, it's important for the person to say it for themselves. She could tell it was coming, so when he asked to go for a walk when she asked if he was alright, she was ready to help him out.
They, along with their usual group of friends, were all at a football game, of all things. During the third quarter, the pair wandered to the end zone casually chatting, each feeling the other out, seeing which one would address the issue first. Finally, he established a sort of "20 Questions" process; she would ask him a question, and he'd vaguely answer it, or dodge around it all together. She knew what she was getting at, but she played dumb, trying to get him to say it first. After volleying back and forth, she caved and asked if it had to do with a girl. After a long pause, he looked down and muttered, not exactly. She then asked if it had anything to do with a boy. He didn't say anything. After a while, he just looked up at her, meeting her gaze. His eyes, bright blue, were full of fear and confusion. She had gotten it right. "Oh, Levi..." she pulled him into a hug. Thanks for telling me, she said, still in the embrace. He said nothing, and pulled away, but holding on to her hand, not unlike a small child clings to his mother. They walked back to the group, and before he let go of her hand, they shared a knowing glance, and they both understood. Things were about to change, but neither of them knew how.

Carson

Middle school drama club was never an easy thing to get to. Her parents were getting sick of having to drive her over every morning. She either had to find a ride from somewhere, or she'd have to quit the club. The latter idea was horrifying to her, so she was desperately trying to organize something with the other members of drama club. She stood on the makeshift stage before they got started one morning earlier in the year, and announced that if anyone lived near her neighborhood to let her know and they could get a carpool started. Someone spoke up, saying that he lived right near her neighborhood and could be in the carpool. She had never noticed him before then, and she glanced over at him. He looked like a nice kid, with messy hair and almost exactly her height, wearing a t-shirt, cargo shorts, and an interesting, exotic looking necklace that she would later learn was whalebone. She said sure, and wanted to add as many people as she could to this carpool. He pointed out that they couldn't have more than four people in the carpool, because there wouldn't be enough space in the car. She looked at him, annoyed. Who did this kid think he was? But he was right, logically they'd have to cap it off at four. Since she couldn't remember his name, she asked him. Carson, he said. Then she noticed his eyes. It was the strangest color she'd ever seen. Blue, green, with flecks of gray and brown. They almost seemed to change colors has she looked at them. For a second, she forget what she was about to say. He looked at her expectantly, and she snapped out of it and introduced herself, and said they could work out the details of the carpool later. He agreed and stated that he was excited for the coolpool. She laughed, and thus it was deemed the coolpool. She was actually happy. Not only was she able to be in drama club, but she hoped that her and this kid with tousled hair and multi-colored eyes would be friends.

Norman

When she first saw it, she thought it was a joke.
The thing could barely run. It looked like a squat black sumo wrestler, but not the one winning tournaments, but the one that lost out in the first round, the runt of the litter. When her dad started turned the ignition, the engine snarled and roared to life louder than she thought possible. How the heck was this thing supposed to replace the trusty old white truck they had used to move across town? She had liked that truck, albeit it was an accident waiting to happen, and she knew why they had to get rid of it; nevertheless, she hated the replacement. Her dad told her that when she started driving, the thing would be hers. She climbed into the passenger's seat reluctantly, and they started driving around. The handling was horrible, and the cab smelled funny, like old cigarettes and wet dog. Her dad said the smell would be gone with a good carpet wash and new seats. Eventually, both were accomplished. Her dad also did some mysterious tinkering with the engine, making the ride bearable, at points even comfortable. Over the years, she grew to love the old thing, even if the transmission was wonky and the a/c was unreliable at best. When the time came for her to get her license, she could have picked to take the fateful driving test in the BMW, or in the truck. She picked the truck, and as she was driving home, license in hand, she felt an inexplicable rush of affection for the truck. After years of dreading the day the ownership was finally passed to her, she finally had a sort of respect for the truck. Her dad joked that next she would name it. Instantly, a name popped into her head. Exactly, she said, General Norman. Her dad looked at her quizzically. She shrugged and said that it fit. The beat-up 1989 Ford Ranger, her car, General Norman.

Quick Introduction

Hello blog readers.
This is a little experiment, an "official" blog of something I've been writing about on and off for a little bit. A little over a year ago, my life, along with many other lives, began changing in big ways. My boys began taking trips in my truck and told me things that would effect all of us for the rest of our lives.
For the sake of everyone involved, names have been changed. These will be random installments, in no particular order, whenever I get around to posting them. And these are all as true as my memory can recall.

Enjoy!