Message in a Bottle

Periwinkle blue skies stretched as far as his vision would allow. It was endless, scarcely plagued with cotton candy clouds that were the colour of pure snow. There was no danger of a winter storm here though, the sun saw to that. The sand beneath his bare feet was warm, relaying heat through his body. The ocean was as clear as glass, sunbursts shimmering off its surface. Joyous yells from children and cries from the gulls overhead blended together and played melodically through his head as he walked.

But despite the apparent paradise, Jackson Rathbone was not smiling.

His demons had chased him away from his home in Texas, and isolated him from happiness. Running away from his problems seemed the logical thing to do. Where else to go but sunny Florida, where it never rained and the conditions were perfect.

But it wasn’t making him happy. Walking down Palm beach was a miserable experience. It being Valentines day, it was full of couples flaunting their love for one another. Every direction that he looked, people of all ages were kissing and cuddling. Public displays of affection were rife, but the holiday of love increased the feelings tenfold.

He rolled his eyes at a passing couple, who were walking towards the ocean arm in arm, laughing together at some private joke that only they knew about. Turning away from them and letting his eyes wander to the ground, he spotted something shining in the distance. He blinked again, but the sparkle did not disappear. Curiosity took the better of him and he headed towards the glittering object. There, buried in the sand, was a bottle.

Jackson’s brow furrowed as he bent down and picked it up, examining it closely. The outside was coated in sand and grime, the glass clouded with dirt. He bit his lip as he tried to open the cork, but it was stuck tight. It took him several more attempts to prise it open, and he was shocked to find that it held paper inside.

He gently tugged it from its glassy protector and let his eyes skim over the neat words written on it. One more look around and he stood, heading quickly for the boulevard.

---

After struggling with his key card, Jackson let himself into his hotel room. It was nothing special, just a standard room with white-washed walls and a blank tiled floor, crisp bed sheets and pale curtains. A blank canvas, the epitome of cleanliness and a space that reminded him of a hospital room. The only hint of colour came from the feeble attempt to add brightness to one wall with a badly drawn fruit bowl painting.

He sat down at the desk and pulled a piece of paper towards him, biting his lip and racking his brain for words. They didn’t come easily, but eventually they expelled themselves from his mind and onto the blank page.

Dear Alex,

The date is February the 14th, 2005. It’s been over two years since you wrote your letter, and I’m not sure if you still feel that way. I don’t know if you’ll even get this, but it’s worth a shot.

My name is Jackson Rathbone, and I found the bottle containing your letter on Palm beach, Florida. At first, I wasn’t going to write back, but I figured I’d throw conscience to the winds and give it a try.

You say that you’re alone. I’m really sorry to hear that. I guess I’m now in the same boat as you.

I believe everyone needs somebody, and I thought I’d found my person. But it turns out you can never really trust the people you thought you could. Her name was Melissa, and we were childhood sweethearts. Our parents were best of friends, and so were we; until we inevitably became more than that.

I thought she was the one. We even considered marriage - until I found her in my best friend’s bed.

Suffice to say, I no longer have a girlfriend or a best friend.

That’s why I’m in Florida. I live in Texas, but I decided travelling was a good way to escape and think for a while. It seems me finding your message was fate, it being Valentines day and all. Seeing your words made me realise that I need to keep going and to find somebody else. You know, life is too short to dwell on the past, so today I’ve decided to stop moping and get over Melissa. I’m going to travel back home and continue with my life.

I guess I can thank you for making me see sense, even though we’ve never actually talked before.

I’m sorry for rambling on and telling you my life story. If you don’t reply, that’s fine. I’d completely understand.

I also hope that your problems have been overcome and that your life is happier than it was in November of 2002.

Hoping to hear from you soon,
Jackson.

He read and re-read the letter, making sure that what he’d written made sense. Nodding to himself, Jackson stood and placed the paper in an envelope, jotting down the British address carefully on the front and sealing it shut. He then proceeded to exit the room and walk briskly to the reception desk of the hotel, obtaining a stamp from the vapid receptionist and affixing it to the corner of the envelope.

Skimming his eyes over it one last time and taking a deep breath, he slotted the envelope into the blue mailbox situated in the corner of the lobby and walked away, hoping faintly that a reply would come.