He was alone.

He had tried to shut her out of his mind, but found that task impossible. He had not seen her for over a year, and yet, she still haunted his every thought. She haunted him now; teasing him, telling him he was a fool, telling him this as he contemplated his decision. He could almost see her, and his thoughts momentarily drifted to her in a time before this. His thoughts tarried on what lay behind him, instead of the reason he was here, and what lay before him.

Her dark hair blew in the wind and a smile was on her face. As he recalled, smiles used to adorn her face many a day in a time not so distant past. Smiles, a smile like that which had been there when he had asked her to marry him, and when she had found out she was with child. He could never forget that smile. That smile told him so much. That smile he would never see again. Her brown eyes glittered, and made her smile so much more innocent and fragile. The hair, the smile, the eyes, the face; he could see it all so plainly. He could almost touch her, but she was not able to be touched, at least by him.

He was alone.

He thought back to all of the things they had done and accomplished together, and everything they had seen and experienced together. There were quiet evenings at home, and there were noisy nights on the town, but they had done it all together. He thought about the time they had gotten caught by the policeman, when they were in their car at the park, and how they had laughed about it later at home. He thought about the summer spent at the beach, and the winter spent in the mountains. He thought about the day their daughter had been born, and all the joy she had brought with her into the world. That day would forever stand out as the best day of his life. He thought about many other things, but try as he did, he could think of nothing that he would ever change. Heather would be his everlasting love, no matter how hard he tried not to accept that fact.

He was alone.

He brought himself back to where he was, and the decision that was at hand. She faded from sight, and he looked down at the river running far below. It never stopped, and quite probably, never would. The river didn’t care where it went or what it did, it just kept going. When it rose above it’s boundaries and swept buildings, cars, and people to it’s final destination, it didn’t care. It had no thoughts or cares. It just was. It was never alone. It never had to deal with pain, joy, fears, or being left alone with a broken heart. He wished he could be like the river, but, he was alone.

Christian slid off the hood of his car to the ground, and walked around to the passenger’s side door, and the cooler which rested in the front seat. In the cooler, nothing was left, save for the melted ice and the last of the twelve beers, which had been temporary residents. He pulled that last bottle out of the icy water and twisted the cap off. He took a long drink, which emptied almost half the bottle, wiped his chin, and lit a cigarette.

He was alone.

He once again took his perch on the hood, took a drag from his cigarette, and peered down at the river. His thoughts, ever running, still examined his entire life. He heard the call of a hawk and looked down to see it glide into the valley the river was in, and perch on a tree branch which overhung the river. He took another drink. He watched as the hawk played hopscotch from tree to tree, until it got the vantage of the river that was best suited for fishing. He watched the hawk watching the river. He watched as the hawk came soaring out of the tree and plucked a fish from the uncaring river. The hawk disappeared down stream, carrying it’s dinner. He wondered if he was a hawk or a fish in this giant river of life. He would reach that conclusion shortly.

He was alone.

He took the last drink out of the last bottle. With that last drink of the last bottle, he had at last reached a conclusion and a decision. He walked to the edge and gave the bottle a little toss. It floated gracefully down, in a gentle spiraling motion, to the river waiting below. With a little ripple of water, the bottle was gone. The river took all offerings and didn’t care why they were given. Just a little ripple and the offering was gone. Gone, mixed with the cascading currents. Gone, never to be seen again.

He was alone.

Christian looked, and for the first time since coming to this spot, he noticed the sky. The sky was a beautiful crimson red, the clouds hovered in all of the right places, and he wondered why he hadn’t brought his camera. He knew why. He was alone. He had tried many times to not be that way, but that could not alter the reality that he was alone. The sun was setting, and he knew the time was near. He looked back at the river, with it’s spiraling currents, and then back at the sky. It was so beautiful. She was so beautiful.

He was alone.

Christian started his car and slowly backed from the edge. He could no longer see the river, or what lay beyond the edge of the cliff. All he could see were purple mountains, a beautiful crimson sunset, and a hawk soaring high above everything. He stepped on the brake. It was a beautiful sunset. He shifted the car into drive. The hawk let out a piercing cry. Christian put his foot on the accelerator and pushed down. The sun was setting. The tires kicked up dirt with the sudden acceleration. The sky was growing darker. He turned the wheel in his hands and led the car back down the mountain path, which it had come, to the highway below that would take him home.

He thought about the hawk, and how it too was alone. Somehow, the hawk could rise above everything, soaring free, watching the majestic sunset, alone. Always alone. If the hawk, a simple bird, could do this, then so could he. He had decided that he was not a fish. He turned onto the paved road, which led directly to the highway, and decided to fly. He felt so free. Somehow, it seemed almost as if speed could take away all of his problems. He slowed as he neared the highway, now worry free. He left all of his problems back with the cigarette butts and beer bottles he had thrown to the river.

Christian turned, and was now on the highway. He was going home, and he was a hawk. The mountain, the river, and the sunset, they now had his problems. He hoped they would take better care of them than he did. He lit a cigarette and turned on the radio to listen too, and sing with, the radio. He felt so much better now, and that was a welcome change. It had been such a long time since he had felt this good. He was going home and help someone else feel good, whoever the first person he found that needed some cheering up.

He looked to his left and saw it, just before it hit him. He saw the giant grill of the semi that was out of control.

The phone at Christian’s apartment rang shortly before sunset. The phone rang until it was answered by the answering machine. After the beep there was a moment of silence, then a female voice. "Christian, this is Heather. I need to talk to you. I have come to realize that I still love you, and would like to maybe talk with you about working things out. Please call me."

Christian never got to hear those words. He never got to hear the words he had been waiting for, the words that he had wanted so desperately for her to say to him. He never heard the words that had kept him from leaping from the cliff.

He died alone.

© 1991 C. B. Ovard

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