Can't Make A Sound

"Why would you want any other When you're a world within a world?"

I have become a silent movie.

We turn up the street and my dad starts laughing. “I love this song.” I grin and start singing along.

Nobody knows what he’s doing.

We’re about halfway up the hill, my dad and I, when he starts singing the words he knows, grinning, looking at me. The streetlights create a dimmed haze over the wet street. The night is moist from an afternoon rain, and the mist is still drifting onto our windshield, hoping to say the night.

Can’t make a sound.

These are the lyrics my dad really knows. The name of the song. We take a right and start heading towards the house, caliginous in appearance, but so warm inside. Waiting for us so we can go to sleep, and dream the dreams where we feel as if we’re in heaven.

The monologue means nothing to me.

The solo comes in. Drums, electric guitar, falsetto vocal tracks, just perfect. We keep driving and my dad drives a little past the house, as he always does. He backs up and goes into the driveway backwards. I was always fascinated by his accuracy each and every time. We back into the garage.

Spinning the world like a toy top,

I put my hand on the door handle, ready to exit and go upstairs.

‘Till there’s a ghost in every town.

He, my dad, turns the lights off of the car, and takes the key out of the ignition. The CD player keeps going and I understand that this moment is meant to be. I take my hand off the handle.

Can’t make a sound.

I’m singing. I really shouldn’t be. I don’t know this until after. My dad closes the garage door and his hand goes to the volume knob.

Eyes locked and shining,

He turns it up.

Can’t you tell me what’s happening?

I start to feel the ecstasy of what’s happening.

Why should you want any other,

I close my eyes and I keep singing. I really shouldn’t be. My dad is singing. We have a connection. The poppy bliss of the song creates another realm of sound, another realm of understanding few can grasp entirely.

When you’re a world within a world?

The bliss of the last one and a half minutes are spent in seconds as the instrumentation is changed but the melody remains. Why should I really want any other? Because honestly, everything, right now is perfect.

When you’re a world within a world?

Pop bliss, perfection, perfection, perfection.

Why should you want any other?

“When you’re a world within a world.” The music continues but the vocals stop. The melody is continued by guitars and other instruments. I bask in it as the last twenty seconds have no drums, no guitars. Trumpets, perhaps, and probably an organ.

When you’re a world within a world?

The song ends and my dad opens the door, doesn’t say a word, and I realize how dark it is in the garage. I close my eyes and realize this is heaven.

Reviews

[Raven Held]

I always go for rides with my dad too, and he'd belt (horribly) along with the songs playing on the radio. Mostly oldies. This is a special piece. I'm not familiar with the song in your story, but the scene does remind me of my dad. And it IS bliss.

Thank you.