Wont Be Home

“Wont Be Home” - Old 97’s (Drag It Up - 2004)

He couldn’t believe his luck. The rain. The car. The radio. It all set the tone for what was turning out to be an unexpected evening.

She smelled so incredible. It made him believe she had definitely thought about tonight. Just a few days ago she wouldn’t even look at him. That rattletrap. That piece of shit Pinto station wagon that carried him around everywhere. He could hardly blame her. But this. This vintage 1964 red Mustang. This heart and soul of his mother. This car she normally wouldn’t let out of her sight. This car, whose back seat was the manger of his birth. He decided it was probably best not to tell this to Hope. Especially with The Old 97’s playing on the radio. Especially with her staring so intently into his eyes. Especially since she just asked if they could move into the back seat. He didn’t want to gross her out.

Pulled safely off the road, he opened up the door for them to climb out, but she was already in the back. Climbed right over. He wondered if she was for real. And started to doubt her sincerity a tiny bit. But he pushed that thought away. It was really coming down outside. He pulled the door back shut. His arm soaked, and climbed right over himself. He just wanted to touch her before all this went away. She broke his fall with the soft of her body. Face to face. The rain pounding. The radio blaring. The car…

“Can I tell you that I just love your car.”
“Oh yeah? You like it, huh?”
“Are you kidding? How come you never drove it before yesterday?”
“Well my mom…Well, I get my mom to watch it for me. I just drive that piece of shit to school so people wont bother me. This is my real car. This is the real me.”
“I like the real me.”

That look of unbelief came over his face again. This whole thing confounded him. He just couldn’t believe that a car made that much difference. You could have never convinced him until right at this moment. This cold night in his momma’s car with the hottest girl in school. But his mind was tired of trying to figure it all out. His ears were tired of listening to his own voice. He was afraid he might say something he would hate.

He started to kiss her. They were slipping between the leather cracks in the seat. Getting smaller in the rearview mirror. A million miles away. He hadn’t been paying attention to the emergency break he released in his eagerness. He hadn’t been paying attention to the steep incline on the passenger side of the car. He hadn’t been paying attention to the lake at the bottom of that incline.

They never even felt the slide. The impact of the water awoke them from his dream. Moments before the car filled up, he broke the silence. He just couldn’t help himself anymore. And he couldn’t help her.
“I was born in the backseat of this Mustang on a cold night in a hard rain.” She stared at him with that same disbelief. Or was it disgust. It was hard to tell once the crying had started. Maybe he had pushed it too far. Maybe the irony of all this was lost on her.

The water was up to their neck now. It was then that the thought finally registered, as he stared at her pretty, distorted face for the last time. I wont be home no more.

http://www.old97s.com/