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collapsed, walls covered with graffiti. The shops on the boardwalk were shuttered and dark, some burned out.
    â€œIt’s a shame, isn’t it?” Mitch said. “Remember what it was like here when we were kids?”
    The stoplights above Ocean Avenue blinked yellow, swung in the wind. There were no other cars in sight.

    â€œThings change,” Johnny said.
    He looked out at the desolation. Even in the seven years he’d been away, things had gotten worse. The Ferris wheel and rides that once lined the boardwalk were gone. Up ahead, near the squat bulk of Convention Hall, were two cranes, and the boardwalk around the building had been torn up. Sawhorses and yellow tape blocked the way. Across the street were empty lots where buildings had once stood.
    â€œWhat are they doing up there?” he said.
    â€œRedevelopment. They finally got the go-ahead. They’re going to tear all this shit down, build condos. No surprise, I guess. Took them long enough, though. Here it is.”
    The Sea Vista was a six-story motel across from the boardwalk. Each room had its own terrace, a sliding glass door. But now some of the glass had been replaced by plywood, and there were letters missing from the sign on the roof.
    They pulled into the gravel lot. Only three cars in it, one with flats all around.
    â€œYou sure about this, man? You can do better than here. There’s a MacIntosh in Eatontown, like forty bucks a night. I’ll take you there.”
    Johnny shook his head, looked up at the building.
    â€œI want to stay here,” he said. “Sentimental reasons.”
    Windblown grit rattled against the car windows.
    â€œCan I ask you something, John?”
    Johnny looked at him.
    â€œI know it’s none of my business and all, but … what are you going to do?”
    â€œRight now? Sleep for a couple hours. Get some food. Maybe walk down to the Heartbreak later.”
    â€œShe ain’t there, Johnny. She’s long gone.”
    â€œMight be some people there who know her, know where she is.”
    â€œWhy bother, man? People don’t stay around here like they used to. And that was a long time ago.”
    â€œI guess it was,” he said and opened the door. “She always
did want other things.” He got out, pulled the duffel after him.
    â€œYou gonna call me?” Mitch said.
    â€œTomorrow. I need to get my shit together. Get some things straightened out.”
    â€œI hear you. And Johnny …”
    Johnny stopped, his hand on the door.
    â€œIt’s good to see you, man. Good to have you back home.”
    Johnny shut the door, stepped back. The Firebird wheeled in the lot, exhaust billowing white in the cold, pulled back onto the empty length of Ocean Avenue.
    Johnny lifted the duffel, watched him drive away. Salt wind blew hard from the ocean, flapped his jacket, swirled trash in the lot. He could hear the waves, the crash of spray on the jetty. Gray clouds scudded by overhead. He felt like he was alone on the Earth.

5
    â€œHere’s the truth about that,” Ray said. “Forget all that bullshit you see in the movies, read in books. Falling in love isn’t always a good thing.”
    He was leaning against the right front fender of the Mustang, hands buried in his overcoat pockets. Harry had the hood open, was using a wrench to tighten the spark plugs he’d just installed. Wind swept through the bare willows in the backyard.
    â€œYou speaking from experience?” Harry said. He secured the last plug, put the wrench down on the towel that protected the fender.
    â€œI’m just saying it can be some complicated shit. And everybody’s got an agenda. Everybody. Whether they admit it or not.”
    Harry fit the rubber boots over the spark plugs, wiped his hands on the towel he’d slung over his shoulder. His right hand was stiff, the first two knuckles still slightly swollen.
    â€œWhy don’t you pay someone to do this