Colby didn’t answer. What was he meant to say?
“You should have never come back, Colby. This place… this place is fucking cursed. The pain never ends. Not for us. Not for our family. But you. You got out. You had a life away from all of this.” He drained the remainder of the bottle and then tossed it at the wall. It smashed sending shards across the carpet. “Do you know Nina wanted to leave Humboldt but I wouldn’t do it? You know why?” He gritted his teeth. “Because it’s not the Riker way. Can you believe that?” Jessie said. “I bought into everything she taught us. If I’d just left, Nina would still be alive.”
Colby set his drink down and crouched in front of his brother, placing both hands on his knees. “You listen to me and listen good.” Tears welled in Colby’s eyes. “You can’t deal in what-ifs. Okay? If there is one thing I’ve learned since losing Skye it’s that you can’t go there. If I had held on to all those what-ifs, I would have drunk my way into an early grave.”
“Maybe that’s where we should all be. In a grave. Everything we touch as a family turns to shit. Father is gone, Lincoln is gone, Skye and now Nina. At what point do we take a hint that what we are doing isn’t working?” He lifted his eyes. “This is God punishing us.”
“No. Boone is a fucking lunatic. This isn’t about us. Or God. We are not being punished for their sins or even ours. This is not karma.”
“You sure about that?” Jessie shook his head, unconvinced.
He couldn’t hear him. Grief was a powerful emotion that blocked out all common sense. Colby remembered what it felt like when he received the news of Skye’s death. It felt like his world stopped. Like someone had turned out the lights. Those around him tried to console him. They gave words of comfort. They tried to make it clear there was nothing he could have done but he didn’t hear them. He couldn’t. All he heard was the echo of his own thoughts, the what-ifs, a resounding gong of pain.
Through gritted teeth Jessie said, “I want him dead. All of them.”
“We’ll get them,” a familiar voice said. It was Kenzo. He was standing by the staircase. “You have my word.”
“Get out of here!” Jessie bellowed.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Colby asked, rising to his feet and making his way over, knowing that his timing was wrong. “This isn’t the time or place to discuss this. Get out now!”
Kenzo took a few steps back, hand out as if registering his grief but unsure if he should leave or…“I just wanted you to know…”
“I don’t care. Get out!” Colby said.
“Jessie. I just wanted you to know that I understand.”
That was the worst thing he could have said in that moment. Jessie exploded forward only held back by Zeke. “If you had stood up to your father, told him that this was madness, we wouldn’t be in this position. You piece of shit!”
“No one forced you to come.”
“You mother fuck…” He tried to get at him but Zeke held him back. “You want to blame me?”
“No. I didn’t mean that. I…” He backed up. It was the first time Colby had seen a look of fear and trepidation. Up to that point he’d carried himself with a quiet confidence. There was no backing down at the meeting but here, he was out of his comfort zone.
“You understand. You understand,” Jessie said, reaching for another bottle. He flipped it in his hand, grabbed the neck and then struck the end against a table so it smashed.
“Jessie. Put it down.”
“You understand, do you?” He lifted the jagged glass in the air.
“I was burned too,” Kenzo said, pulling at his collar to show them. “I know what it’s like to lose people. I lost my entire family.”
“And then you gained one.” Jessie stabbed the bottle in his direction. “I should…”
“Jessie!” Colby bellowed getting between him and Kenzo. He didn’t like the guy but he knew Jessie wasn’t thinking clearly. If he lashed out now, he’d regret it later when he sobered up. Colby jabbed a finger at the staircase. “Get out of here. NOW!”
“Maybe I should be the one to check out,” Jessie said, bringing up the bottle to his own neck. Zeke was closest, he stepped forward but Jessie darted sideways. “Don’t. Don’t!” he said, tears streaking his face. Colby had never seen him this way. He knew the pain but this wasn’t the answer.
“Jessie, you don’t want to do this. If anyone understands what you’re going through, it’s me. Okay? And you know it. Now put the fucking bottle down.”
“Why? What’s the point? To live another day in this shithole, striving, fighting others just so we can live. Live for what? What’s to live for?”
“Yourself.”
Jessie shook his head. “I don’t have the desire to keep going anymore.”
Colby raised his hands and moved closer to him.
His mind flipped back to L.A. and the many suicide calls he’d gotten. Most were overdoses from pills or needles in arms, but there were several jumpers — folks who balanced on the edge of a building or had jumped from the Pasadena Bridge, a famous spot for those looking to end it all.
For all the training he’d received there was no one way that worked for all cases. It depended on so many factors. Was there a relationship already established? Why was the person feeling suicidal? And had they put a lot of thought into it or was it a spur of the moment decision? All of it factored in as to whether or not they would harm themselves. Offering advice or opinions was natural but not always helpful. Telling them they could go to a hospital and get
