Going Home

It was one of those days at work where I was asked to do the impossible. And I did, somehow. And the clients and co-workers ate away at me all day as if thirsty for blood. MY blood in particular. They wanted all that my heart pumped and the sweat from my pores. I managed to escape the day though, still in one piece, still in ownership of what’s left of my soul.

Turning the key of the Sentra, listening to the engine groan and struggle, I wondered if this would be the day I wouldn’t make it out of the empty parking lot. The sun was setting and I would soon be alone and stranded for a while until arrangements could be made for a ride. I thought of all the other cars I have owned in my life, how they too had left me in similar predicaments. How they all, at one point or another, gave up being cars. They were tired of being what they were, but it wasn’t up to them, they were my cars and I wished ignition and they had to continue being just as they were. And the Sentra this night became a car once more as if to say,"I’ll run tonight, but can’t I promise you tomorrow."

I exhaled a sigh of relief and inhaled cigarette smoke as I pulled out of the dark parking lot. I stopped for beer at the gas station a block away. Some awful 70's pop song was playing over the loudspeaker as I walked from the car to the door of the food mart. I stood in line behind a man buying lottery tickets. The first awful song stopped and another equally awful pop song from the 70's now played. The man with all the luck in the world ahead of me finished his transaction and it was now my turn to give the clerk money. I gave him $6.88 and left the store with a tall six-pack of beer.

I left the Sentra running in place and since it hadn’t completely given up yet, I got in and made my way to the on ramp. I pull a can of beer from the bag and crack it’s mouth. I pour and swallow. I am no longer innocent. The sound of the road and the Sentra’s engine are all I hear before pushing play on the music player. Sharon Jones cries for me through the speakers so I don’t have to. I have worked a total of 11 hrs. today and I will be returning to work in another 11. I am as tired and in need of maintenance as this poor, 13 year old car I’m driving. Neither of us will die yet. "If you hang in there, buddy, I’ll promise to do the same." I say as if the Sentra can hear me. "I’ll get you fixed up when the money comes, ok?" The money doesn’t come though. It is spent as fast as I can make it. Sharon has stopped crying. She is happy now and my thoughts shift.

Is that a cop behind me? Nope. Pour and swallow. The Sentra’s gas light comes on to tell me it’s thirsty too. I reset the trip meter and the numbers reduce to zero. I have calculated a distance of 10 miles til empty by ignoring the Sentra’s pleas many times in the past. Just enough to get me home and back to the station in the morning. I will return tomorrow just as I came. Pour and swallow. How are the kids tonight? How is the wife? "I’ll be home soon." I say and press end.
Night falls fast and a full moon lights the sky. I see the same billboard every night. It encourages me to drink Coke. Pour and swallow. Sharon Jones just kicked a bad man out of her home. "Atta girl!" I say to her. "You deserve better!" The Sentra has 3 miles left in him till he dies of thirst. I light another cigarette. "Just get me home. Please." I say to him.

Tomorrow is yet another day. Possibility exists and the possibility that everything will go to shit just as expected, but we make our own luck and that’s exactly why I believe in it. Pour and swallow. I don’t even want to think about all the things I have to do tomorrow, but I do. There will be the same flesh eating zombies to deal with and I will have to put on quite a performance. I will do the impossible once more. Pour, swallow, pour, swallow. There is no reward in the job, just the means to feed the family.

The trip meter reads 9.02. One more mile left. The Sentra moves forward. He’s a titan and I’m proud of him! Sharon sings with her beautiful, powerful, wonderful voice. I finally pull into my gravel driveway. The house is illuminated by yellow light. I see the trash piled up begging to be taken out. "I’ll need to do that tomorrow." I say as I grab my bag of beer. Pour and swallow. I put my beer can into the trash can and tell it I’ll be back to push it up the driveway later. I walk to the front door of my house and open it.

"Daddy!!"

I am home.