had been trampled.
Stu clambered down the slope, his sneakers sliding in the mud until his feet were in the river, his socks and shoes soaked. The water was freezing. Sarah followed more slowly, picking her way from rock to rock.
The moon was up and the water reflected its light. A few yards away, Jericho was standing in the current, just a thin shadow holding his arms up to the sky. He was still a few feet away from where the river ran deepest, but the water was already up to his waist.
Stu cupped his hands. “Jericho!” he called.
His friend turned to face him, his eyes wide and wild, his glasses missing. “We both step and do not step in the same rivers,” he shouted, quoting Heraclitus. His face was twisted in anguish, stark white in the light of the moon. “We are and are not.”
The river rushing past made Stu dizzy. The current was known to be swift—signs posted along the banks warned off swimmers. He took another step in and braced himself as the freezing water hit his calves, the cold registering as sharp pain shooting up and down his legs. He grabbed the branch of an overhanging tree and inched closer to Jericho.
“How long have you been standing there?” he yelled.
Jericho’s teeth were chattering. “How long does it take to become a different person?”
“Jericho,” Sarah yelled. “Stop scaring the shit out of us!” She had now reached the edge of the water but was facing the riverbank. “You two!” she shouted then. “Go get help!”
Stu turned and saw Owen standing on the bank, with Rachel beside him. They had come to the river path to continue their argument.
Sarah gasped as she stepped fully into the water and made her way towards Stu. “Here,” she said. She’d taken off her scarf and was passing it to him, her upper body hunching convulsively against the cold. “Throw the end to him so he’s got something to hold on to.”
The stabbing pain in Stu’s legs had already begun to subside into a dull ache. He wondered how he would keep his footing once his legs went numb. He moved further into the river’s depths, keeping one hand on a branch that narrowed to not much more than a twig—a reassurance, more than a safeguard. His heart was racing, and with every step he offered up a prayer to adrenaline, hoping it would give him enough strength to reach his friend. When he thought he was close enough, he threw one end of the scarf towards him, and Jericho caught it.
Sarah screamed in exultation, and the piercing sound seemed to rouse Jericho. A sob broke from him. Hand over hand, they drew him closer to the bank, encouraging each stumbling, unwilling step back to safety.
When they got him out of the river, Jericho’s clothes were dripping muddy water and his whole body was quaking. Stu gave him his jacket, and Sarah rubbed his back. By then, Rachel and Owen had returned to the riverbank with campus security and the medics.
“Thinking is a sacred disease,” said Jericho, as he sat in the back of the ambulance. He was wrapped in a silvery emergency blanket and his lips were bluish. His head wobbled back and forth as he stared beyond them at something neither of them could see. “And there’s no cure.”
“It’s a little cold for a swim.” Sarah’s voice was stiff and barely audible. “Why were you trying to hurt yourself?” The medics passed her an emergency blanket, and another to Stu.
“I wasn’t doing anything, really,” said Jericho, his gaze still wandering high above their heads, somewhere beyond them.
“You could have died,” said Stu. A tremor in his own legs began as he said it. He didn’t know if it was the river or fear that had turned his limbs to ice. If anything had happened to Jericho, their mothers would never forgive him. “You fucking idiot.” He kicked a rock off the path and it landed in the river. “Fucking Heraclitus!” Sarah put a hand on his arm.
When he turned around, Rachel was staring at him with a pained expression. Owen’s arm was around her, protective and possessive, as though there had been no fight, no flirtation, no room for doubt. The way she leaned into him, Stu realized that marriage had strength embedded in its very architecture, a resilience that beat back the usual threats. Given his parents’ union, he’d always thought of marriage as something more like resignation, a contractual