“They didn’t know Jesse; they wouldn’t have known what to look for.”
Our server approached with a cheery smile that disappeared the moment he saw Audrey’s grim expression. He dropped the check and scurried away. “I can’t make this better for you, Henry. Jesse’s gone, and we’ve got to move forward with our lives. You’ve got your family, a niece on the way, and a guy who really likes you.”
All those things were true, but I’d stopped paying attention as an idea struck me. It began as a spark and exploded, spreading like a universe within my mind. Audrey was still talking when I said, “Let’s break into Jesse’s house.”
“What?”
My thoughts whizzed around my skull so near the speed of light that I could never catch them. “It’s Christmas Eve. Jesse’s parents dragged him to Providence every year for Christmas. They won’t be home. I know where they keep a spare key, and I know the alarm code.”
It was a perfect idea, and I couldn’t understand why Audrey was staring at me slack-jawed and bewildered. “Why on Earth would we break into Jesse’s house?”
“To figure out why he killed himself.”
“But why, Henry? Why does it matter?”
I slammed my fist onto the table, causing the plates of soggy pancakes and mugs of bitter coffee to jump. The other diners turned to stare, but I couldn’t be bothered. “Because if Jesse didn’t have a reason for killing himself, then his death was meaningless. And if Jesse’s death is meaningless, then so are our lives. So is everything, Audrey. I thought you out of everyone would get that.” I threw some cash onto the table and walked to the parking lot. The night sky was clear, but I could hardly see the stars for all the streetlights. They were up there, though. I’d seen them from the slugger’s ship. I’d seen them all.
The door opened and closed behind me, but I didn’t turn around. “You know,” I said, “if we were on one of the planets in the Alpha Centauri system, looking toward Earth, we’d see Jesse still alive.”
“But he wouldn’t be, would he?”
I shook my head.
“What would be the point of watching Jesse die all over again if we couldn’t do anything to prevent it?”
“At least we’d know.”
Audrey walked to her car, unlocked the doors, and got in. She started the engine and rolled down the windows. I stood watching the stars. “Come on. If we’re going to commit a felony, we’ve got to do it before my curfew.”
? ? ?
I spent a lot of time at Jesse’s house when he was alive, but I never really looked at it until Audrey and I parked on the street and sat quietly in her car with the lights off. It was a typi-cal Florida house, which is to say there was nothing architecturally interesting about it. It had no history, no quirky lines or idiosyncratic ornamentations. It was solid and functional, though larger than most of the other houses on the street. The hedges under the windows were trimmed so perfectly, I doubt I could have found a single leaf out of place. The grass was green and neat, the mulch surrounding the various trees bright and woody. The driveway was marred by nothing, not even a single drop of oil. The Franklins’ house was pristine, perfect, and sterile, right down to the tasteful white holiday lights that lined the edge of the roof, and the festive wreath hanging from the front door.
“Are we doing this?” Audrey asked. “If we’re doing this, we should go now.” She’d been rambling like that for fifteen minutes, reciting everything she’d ever seen on TV about how to not get caught breaking into someone’s house, and the penalties if we were. I wanted to tell her this wasn’t an exam to be failed, but I got the feeling she’d melt down if I tried to silence her.
Audrey’s car didn’t stand out, which was a boon to us, as were the Christmas Eve parties happening at a few of the Franklins’ neighbor’s houses. One set of teenagers would hardly be remembered by someone who might have glimpsed us as they stood on their front porch, guzzling spiked eggnog and trying to avoid one more pinch on the cheek from Aunt So-and-So.
“In and out,” I said. “Mr. and Mrs. Franklin probably haven’t even gone into Jesse’s room since . . . Everything will look the same as it did the last time I was there.” I tried not to think about that last time or about what we’d done. I had to remain focused.
“What if Jesse didn’t leave a note, Henry?”
“Then he left a journal entry or an e-mail he never sent or a video he recorded on his phone that no one thought to check. There has to be something.”
Audrey grabbed my hand and held it to her chest. She was sweating through her thin Muppets shirt. “Finding out why Jesse killed himself won’t change anything.”