Message in a bottle

I saw her drop it. I watched the tears falling from her face adding salt to the already salted water. Her yellow raincoat was too bright, her violet-hued hair too playful, as she knelt by the edge of the water. Strictly speaking, I should have stopped her. Whatever she dropped would need to be retrieved before I left for the night. I hadn't planned on getting back into the tank. The fish were fed, and I was ready to go home, but as I watched from the dark alcove something inside gave me pause.

At first, she just stood there, tall like a sentinel of old. The metal bleachers behind her were barren in the evening fog. She raised her chin to the darkening sky, hair floating around her face in the wind. I was struck by her poise, the elegance of her neck, the ethereal grace in her movements. When she knelt by the edge, I moved in the shadows toward the woman, the typical "I am sorry, but we are closing now" ready on my lips. I stopped when she removed a small bottle from her bag. The woman held it aloft, the dying light of day causing it to sparkle. From this far, I could not see what lurked inside the mystery bottle, and yet, I had stopped.

The overhead clock chimed eight times. I watched her gaze up at the immovable machine. Time would not bend for anyone. Still, she sat down. I made my feet take steps they did not want to take as I continued to watch the lonely woman. Tears dripped off her face making tiny puddles on the cement. Her fingers covered in dark blue velvet mittens shook slightly.

The bottle dropped, barely making a splash. We both watched as it slowly sank down toward the meticulously crafted aquarium floor. In the gray sky, it was soon out of sight even though I knew it was still making its descent. The woman rose to her feet and turned in my direction. We made eye contact. Words slid through my mind as I stared into her haunted face. Time stood still, even as the clock continued to tick above the gate.

She looked away first. Not saying a word, she slowly approached the exit of the sunken amphitheater. The woman left without looking back. I stood still in the doorway letting out the breath I did not realize I had been holding in. Sighing and inwardly chastising myself, I entered the employee’s dressing room and set about donning my scuba equipment once more. My wet suit was still soaked, but luckily I had learned from past experiences to always keep an extra handy.

Once ready I made my way back out to the arena. Falling backward into the cold water, I pumped my fins downward in search of the small glass bottle. Surely, the woman knew I’d have to retrieve it. I wondered if she would be back to see if it was still there. I did for a moment consider leaving it but knowing my supervisor’s hawk eyes, I decided this was best, and If I was being absolutely honest with myself, I had to know.

It took several minutes to locate the bottle. It had hidden itself between two bright orange gorgonian sea fans along the western perimeter. Grabbing it carefully, so as to not disturb the delicate coral reef, I waved good night to my little fish friends again and made my way out of the tank.

Normally, I hated sitting in my wet suit after I was out of the water. I knew some of my co-workers walked around for hours squishing in the tight rubber, but not me. However, on this night, I sat on the bench in the locker room rolling the bottle along my palm.

I had to know. I pried open the cork with my teeth. Inside, sat a thin white piece of paper. Gently pulling it out, I unfolded it revealing beautiful cursive lettering.

To all the stars that are never born, And all the loves that died. May you then find happiness, After all the tears are cried.

I placed the bottle into my locker and went home. Weeks passed and I continued to look out at the crowd searching for the woman’s face. I do not know if she ever returned but I never saw her. Unable to bring myself to throw the message out, It sat in my locker for the last ten years.

Today is my last day. I plan on leaving it amid the rainbow-colored corals. Let someone else find it. Let it touch their heart as it touched mine.

I hope.