Coincidences

The windshield wipers are unable to do their job now as the rain crashes down. God just had his heart broken.
"Looks like it'll keep going."
"Damn straight."
Either one of us could have said either sentence. Damn straight. That sounds more like him than me, but who knows. The rain has a way of bringing me down that nothing else can do. The rain was my first reasoning behind solipsism. In the movies the weather reflects the characters' mood. Some people like the rain. Some use it as a place in which to sing. But for me, the rain can never be happy. Do I listen to sad music because I'm sad or is the latter a result of the former?
He opens up a beer, which I don't like particularly, considering he's my navigation. But he sees the futility of navigation in this weather. My headlights can only protect me from oncoming cars, which is a small favor I guess. Thanks God. I know he's watching.
"Hey do you ever think that coincidences are more than just coincidences?"
It's unclear who said that. Is it coincidental that I was just thinking that? Have I slipped into thinking about a cul-de-sac question? The answer is yes.
"Yeah I think that," I say out loud just to be sure.
"Like sometimes I'll be walking down the street and the song I'm listening to will say a word and then the word will be somewhere. Like a song says 'change' and then a homeless guy happens right in front of me."
"Damn straight."
"But we can't prove it and that's what's the worst. Lightning never--" We see a bolt of lightning appear on cue. We laugh and the beer ensures us of the triviality of the occurrence.

I get back in the car after getting gas and I smell like fish. The car smells like fish, too. His gaze hasn't torn from the rain outside. The windshield no longer looks like rain is pelting it but more like a bucket of water is being poured over it. Every ad for the best windshield wipers flashes through my mind. Nothing could fix this.
I sit in my seat and place my hands at 9 and 3. I turn to him and he turns to me and smiles warmly, a sudden change.
"Shall we?"
"Yeah let's find a place to crash."
"Is it the morning?"
"I can't remember, but I'm tired. There should be a hotel somewhere around here," Like either of us can even tell what state we're in. We can't even remember how long we've been driving.
I turn the key and make the executive decision to take the next exit and find a major road and look for a motel. The first room I find will be the one I take.
A woman knocks me out of my concentration with a rap on my window.
"Yes'm?"
"Do you know where I can find a hotel?"
I laugh to myself until I realize that this woman is out of my stream of consciousness and is struggling to understand the coincidental humor.
"No. No I don't ma'am. You're welcome to try my strategy of finding an exit and going in one direction until one presents itself. It usually works."
"You're not much help, but thanks."
"Goodnight."
I drive until I hit an exit. Taking the exit overly brazenly I drive through multiple yellow lines. I can't see the barrels that tell idiots like me to jerk the wheel until they've served their purpose. I wonder how present foreshadowing is in life or if that's only in movies and books.
"Hey do you think that God is pulling us around like puppets?"
He is awfully talkative tonight. Thought tends to come like an avalanche, spurred on my a shout and building to a merely shifted conclusion. Snow only moves in an avalanche and nothing ahead of it is ever revealed.
"Yes I do think that sometimes. When things fit too well I think that."
"Hmm. Sometimes I wish it was like that. Here's a hotel."
I pull into the parking lot. I step out of the car to feel the rain on my face because that's what Gene Kelly did in "Singin' in the Rain." I smile because it feels right in a very forced way. A sense of accomplishment comes over me. The feeling of a job well-done, a purpose fulfilled, envelopes me. I walk into the hotel and a thoroughly unattractive woman stands at the counter. She walks away frustrated.
"No rooms left? Where am I supposed to go? There isn't another hotel for miles!"
What luck that I found it at least! I can keep driving, I think.
I walk back outside and my car has disappeared. I guess He took it. Everything falls apart on me. The hotel crumbles behind me and the rain turns into a shower-head stream only for me. I feel like a cartoon character having a bad day. Lightning strikes the ground in front of me and a bush burns brightly in its wake.
"Hello God."
"Hello my son! How are you?"
"Pretty good. I was right, wasn't I?"
"Yes. You were! Way to go, my son! Let's go spend eternity together!"
I think about my math teacher in high school trying to explain what infinity meant. I remember hating that lesson. The hotel returns. The rain drizzles now. My car has returned and He is sitting in the passenger seat opening a bottle of whiskey. I might as well go out now, I think.
"Hand me that bottle," I say as I turn the key.
"Damn straight."