Nostalgia

Right on the edge of the cliff overlooking the river, he sat with the mostly empty bottle. With every sip the memories flowed. As painful as they were, they were healthy. He'd spent so long suppressing them, trying to burn them out and all he'd done was inflame them. Now, sitting at the place every single one of those memories had roots he felt like he might actually come to terms with things. Was it four years ago? Five? Six? He couldn't remember when it was he'd first met her. He couldn't really remember much about his life before her. She'd been on the forefront of his thoughts for so long, it was almost like he'd been born with the malady of missing her.

Yeah, there had been other girls. Or other attempts rather. The two serious ones after her both ended up getting married to someone else within six months of the first date. Despite his serious hopes with the others, she always came back as soon as he realized they were gone. He began to wonder what it would take to move on. He knew he was a dumbass for being in love with her. At the time, it had been the thing to do. But now, however many years later, what good was it to hold on? She had moved on and gotten married, and regardless of the fact that she had sought him out to make amends he was still hung up on her. He knew he needed to let her go. For ****s sake, he wanted to let her go. He was tired of being on this rollercoaster to hell.

Shaking his head, he took another sip. He raised his head and looked at the sky, wondering, shook his head and averted his gaze, then peeked back up at the endless blue.

"You know God, I know I'm not the best child you've ever had." He stopped, looking around. Even in the middle of the woods he felt silly, like he was just some drunken crazy ******* talking to someone that wasn't there.

"I know I'm kind of a bad weather believer. I only pray when I need help. I realize that isn't exactly what you're looking for. Well, I guess I don't know what you're looking for anyway. But for whatever reason it seems to make me feel better to try and talk to you." Another quick glance at the sky and he kept talking. "It sure would be easier if I had a face to talk to. You know, for familiarity's sake." Another pause. He shook his head and took another drink.

"Yeah, I suppose you are said to work in mysterious ways. Sure as hell are mysterious to me, anyway. I know I've tried this a few times before, and never had much luck. Maybe I didn't believe in you then, and who knows if I do now. Hell, maybe I'm too scared to believe in you. But I guess if so many others do, there's gotta be something to it."

His mind flashed back to the time he'd sat up on top of a bare mountain in a lightning storm, begging to be struck down, screaming at God for some sort of answer. He didn't figure he would have been too happy with any answer but silence then.

"God, I'm sure you know this already. I need a definitive answer. I need to move on. I need your help. Why won't you talk to me?" His last words echoed off the mountain across the valley loudly.

"No need to get mouthy bud. He can hear you," he said to himself.

"Okay. You know I'm gonna need something pretty solid. You know what a stubborn ******* I am, so here's the deal. You know I haven't ready the Bible, but I do remember some story about some guy and a sheepskin asking for an answer. Here's my bargain."

He looked at the bottle in his hand.

"I know it would mean a helluvalot more if this were full, but, you know. didn't think of that soon enough. But here's the deal."

He looked out over the edge at the rocky hillside fifty feet below him.

"A fall like that should break this bottle. No way it could not. I'm gonna toss it. If you're listening but don't want to talk, that's fine. All I'm asking for is a bit of help finding you here."

Hesitating, he stared at the bottle, now somewhat scared of the deal he'd just offered. If the bottle didn't break, he would certainly have more proof that God was listening. If not, well, he was truly as alone as he thought. Glancing at the sky, he nodded, as if wanting to make sure God was watching and ready. Before he was ready, he tossed the bottle over the edge, watching as it fell from sight.

Glass exploded below. He didn't have to see the shards glittering like backwards rain to understand. Heart sinking into melting hopes, he slumped, his last resort at finding faith in something ruptured like the bottle of bargain. Rising to unsteady feet, he stared down at the river, allowing his eyes to fall out of focus. "That's that," he muttered as he stepped into nothingness.