the second narrative. (previous entry=substence)

Brandon Temple
Dr. Fields, ENG 304
Personal Narrative

"The Last Drive, I Felt Alive"

   It was a finality we were facing. The sheer, simple fact that we were never to lay eyes upon each other as lovers again was unknown to us at that simple moment; hands clasped deeply, trenches being formed in the gaps our fingers made. The parking lot was bustling, hectic, and yet, in that moment, I still see earrings. Hearts. Purple, dangly ones. They were placed in the left cup holder of my car, as the door shut and my eyes shut and my heart shut and (ohmygodican’tdothisnotagainnotagain) chorused magically through my head, a realization set in my head.
    Brandon, it’s time to go home. Take your earrings and get your friends. Before you can’t let yourself go.
    And with that quiet acknowledgment, I pulled the Cavalier out of the Hookah Bar parking lot in Morgantown, West Virginia, and prepared for the 10 hour ride home. The ride to West Virginia, to meet my girlfriend, Bethany had been filled with…sleeping. Between me, my best friend, John, and our co-worker, Anna, there was no period at time within the entire 10 hour ride when all three of us were awake at the same time. The way home, it seemed, would be far different.
    As we began our trek down Highway 79 to Charleston, the three of us began chatting about odd topics and other things meant to keep the driver’s heart focused purely on the road, and not on the trauma I was facing in leaving my love behind once more. We stopped at a diner in Fairmont at 3 in the morning, still speaking about nothing important. When my eggs came to me a little dry, the first serious conversation began.
    "John, dude, my eggs are so cold, they’re stiff. It’s heartbreaking." I laughed a little, but in using the term heartbreaking, I felt a shudder of sorrow wave over me, and it appeared on my face, apparently. John was quick to take note.
    "You realize she’s going to be there when you come back, right?" John munched nonchalantly on toast, making the comment as if the following line would be, "Pass the salt."
    I took the statement into my heart for a moment. Is she going to be there? Is she really going to be willing to wait on this idiot boy for another three months until I can work the money and time up to visit her for a week again? How can she think it’s all really worth it?
    Anna, gnawing on a celery stick, leaned over the table and poked her fingers under my chin, until I caught her eye. She was giving me a half-grin, cocked to the left side, glasses and earrings all tilted, to a degree, with her bob of amber hair falling up and down in her ponytail as she chewed. "You’re thinking too much."
    As simple as this statement was, I knew she was right. I took my knife and rummaged through the eggs for answers, finding yolk, dead cells, a bit of gristle, but no answers. "I’m just scared. It’s like, for the first time in my life, I feel like an adult. Like, I’m completely independent of my actions and thoughts. It’s so much to fathom in such a short period of time, but…it makes me feel so, alive." I looked down, gritting my teeth. I had only cried in front of them once before, and I wasn’t about to let self-actualization be the downfall of my stoic nature.
    Anna just scoffed. "You’re so dumb sometimes, Temple. As smart as you think you are, the words you use only hide what you really feel." John nodded, guzzling some Dr. Wells before his turn behind the wheel.
    As we headed back on the road, and I curled in the back seat for my nap, I twirled the purple hearts of Bethany’s earrings around in my hands, watching each individual heart glitter in the light of Anna’s cell phone in the front seat. I spent the next three hours in a daze between seat and text-message romance, where the term "I love you" can have the power and strength of hundreds of sonnets and odes, simply because you already have the back-story.
    The morning came to fruition as we passed into Kentucky, my weary body having traversed through CharlestonHuntington without even a glimpse of either city. We stopped at a rest stop in Ashland, preparing to fight through two and a half hours of road construction and rainy weather to make it back to home; we all had work the next day, so any hope of slowing down was an afterthought, and the only thing on our minds as we raced to use the restrooms was, "Man, I have to be at work in X hours."
    After relieving myself and journeying to bench next to the stop, a young boy, no more than seven, toddled over to my bench and sat down next to me. He was adorned in the latest Harry Potter get-up, complete with replica wand, and was positively star-struck with me, as his gaze was affixed squarely with my eyes.
    I coughed and offered a semi-polite, "How are you?"
    He pointed at my face and replied, "Are YOU Harry Potter?"
    My face was caught in utter shock as John followed me outside. He caught my look of surprise and wandered over to me, glancing down at the kid as he approached. "What’s the matter?"
    I flicked a coin around my fingers. ‘"I look like a wizard."
    I was completely unfamiliar with the concept of Harry Potter, other than a few people calling me "Hairy Pothead" in my Freshman English class. Apparently, a tall, lanky, jet-black haired boyish looking guy, clean shaven, with round, wire-frame glasses, is the spitting image of one Mr. Harry Potter.
    I wasn’t that amused, however. I simply shook my head to the boy, stood up, and walked to the car, alone, my thoughts playing the accompaniment to my newfound thrusting back into the "boyhood" stage of my life. I just thought I had emerged from that state with bliss and trumpets and manly mannerisms intact, only to fall prey to the whim of a boy who thought I was a boy, too.
    The car rid

e from Ashland to Lexington was uneventful. Quiet. I seethed at the thought of my independence being usurped by a child. Any attempts by John and Anna to offer solace were met with quick, curt negativity. I didn’t understand it; had I not fully subjected myself to becoming an adult in my journeys through the country and my journeys as a person? I was 21 years old, and damn it, I was tired of being everyone’s child.
    When we arrived in Lexington, we made our final stop for the trip at a factory mall, so Anna could find some trinkets to take back to her family. She also was searching for a gift for her newfound love interest from West Virginia, whom I felt was little more than another spark in her eye to waver from. John and I had finally decided to quiz her on the boy, Mark, and as we walked to the booths, are questions become furious.
    "So, is it love, Anna?"
    "Do you know his favorite color?"
    "Where’s he wanna go when he grows up?"
    As we continued the joyride of questions, Anna jerked around and screeched, "OK, asshole, YOU ANSWER ‘EM!"
    And, in the brief moment of shock, I realized, somewhat shamefully, I could answer only the first for certain. Yes. I could not answer the second. Being colorblind makes you naturally unaware of colors, even if you’re just being told someone’s favorites. And, I was unsure, but had an idea of what she wanted and where she wanted. I thought she wanted to be an artist, though she was unsure if she’d ever become it, and try to move north, somewhat away from the place she grew up, away from her parents, just, away.
    And that moment, was my realization of a lifetime.
    Standing amidst a sea of the oblivious, shoppers of fate and fortune, I realized I was truly in between lands. I was no longer a child; my innocence had been crushed and sullied long before I tore myself away from Bethany twelve hours prior. I also knew I still had growing up to do. I had mismatched priorities, a disorganized present and an unwritten future that my past was playing no part of.
    "John, man. I’m going to lose it."
    And, unbeknown to the throng of mallrats, a boy and a man merged within my soul. I was willing to take part of both of these entities for a while longer, nurturing the adult until he was ready to present himself to the world. Until then, my inner child shall lead the way, footloose and everlasting. It was eerie, once I looked up, to notice that nothing in the world had changed. My love was still my love. My home, as we reached it, still home. My dog still licked my crotch when I slept just as he always had. And, for now, my boyhood and manhood were harmonious.
    I stepped back into my car, the duo of John and Anna in tow, and started the engine. "We’re going home, guys. And I have no idea what the hell is waiting for me when I get there."
    "But I’m ready for it."