Rigby

Chapter 13

The world moved around me, but I was still. I had no recollection of leaving the restaurant or the two-hour car ride back to Maine. I don't recall getting to Rigby or passing through the familiar rooms. It was as though I was on one of those conveyor belts in the airport that move you along while your mind stays empty. I was alone. It was Jacob's room, surrounded by his things, but I was alone. His book was still sitting on the nightstand. His button-down was flung over the back of his chair.

It was an ache deep in my bones that pulled me downstairs. I heard the voices, but they hardly registered.

"How can he just be gone?" Jess' voice was urgent.

"He wanted to go swimming, so we went down to the river like when we were kids. I barely got my shoes off before he splashed in," Michael explained in his urgent tone.

"How out of it was he?" Jess pressed.

"That's the thing. I don't think he was out of it."

"Michael, Jacob hasn't been clean since he was twelve."

"I don't know what to tell you. I was with him all afternoon. He's hidden none of it from me, and I didn't even see him have a drink. Honestly, a couple of cigarettes, but nothing else." Michael's voice was growing distant as he searched for answers in his mind.

"It makes no sense." The tension filled Jess' voice.

"I don't know, man. He talked about being happy, and then he just wanted to go swimming like when we were kids. He said it was the last time he was this happy." Michael paused for a moment. "Jess, I don't think he did this on purpose." There was a gravity to his voice. "He had plans; plans with Riley."

At my name, my heart pumped again. The blood felt boiling in my icy veins. It burned with the reality I faced.

"Plans? What are you talking about?" Jess dismissed this new information.

"He was going to marry her. That was his plan."

"Is she...?"

"What? No. I mean, I don't think so. Jess, she changed him."

"The last thing I heard from him was singing, And I Love Her, as he splashed around. I was moving his shoes, so they didn't get wet, and when I looked up, he was gone. He was just gone, man."

"Maybe he swam to the other side. Maybe he wanted to get out of here." There was a pleading in Jess' voice as he tried to convince himself he was right.

"I don't think so. I don't think he would have left her. Not after the way he was talking."

"He wouldn't have," I asserted from the door. Both Jess and Michael lifted their eyes to me as I entered. I recognized the looks, the mixture of surprise and fear. I also knew the tone of my voice, the velvety detached authority. "He's dead; the body will turn up soon." Their eyes followed me to the kitchen as I pulled a low ball down from the cabinet and poured a healthy helping of scotch. "We're running low on scotch and cigarettes," I added as I returned to what was now my room.

It took three days, three days of murmured conversations as Jess and Michael tried to keep something close to hope between them. I barely noticed. I took comfort in the scotch's warmth as it burned through me. On day three, a cop showed up at the front door. There is only one reason a cop arrives at your door on a quiet Tuesday. They had found Jacob tangled in some low branches less than half a mile down the river. It was confirmed; Jacob was dead.

The police scoured the house for evidence, confiscating random things: his pills, random papers, his laptop, and his phone. I didn't care. They could take all the things. Jacob was gone; he didn't linger in the physical. I passively watched as I sipped my glass of scotch. Jess convinced himself it was Jacob's final and successful suicide attempt. It would have been nice to think that this was what he wanted. I could have turned bitter and turned on him, on our love. But I knew what Michael knew: Jacob Rigby was once again living just in time to die. Even the toxicology report confirmed Michael's claim; no drugs or alcohol were found in Jacob's system.