My honeymoon, May 1982. We were broke, so we stayed at a guest house for a rainy, mildewed week. I learned to play Ms. Pac-Man in an empty arcade.
As that marriage tanked, I spent a bitter April afternoon on the beach with someone I’d never see again. It marked my end of belief.
And the last time, Rich and I drove there as dawn was breaking, just for the day. We were in the sun too long, and drank too much, so I ended up unable to bend my sunburned knees, and vomiting beside the road back to Washington.