jack, cradling a pink bakery box in one hand, gets out of frank's car and surveys the street on which he grew up.
a taxi lets jack off on a street of shabby tract houses. in his rumpled city suit, jack looks like a cheap gangster amid the weedy lawns and overgrown junipers. he walks up to the door of a small white house and presses the doorbell. when there is no response, he goes around to the back.
jack and frank dash out of willie's and glance up and down the street. nothing.
jack steps out onto the rainy street alone. he glances back at the vet's with second thought, then moves slowly off.
jack, walking home, turns a corner and suddenly stops. across the street, talking to a man, is susie. she says a few words to the man, then touches him lightly on the arm and begins to walk away. jack watches her retreat, then follows, moving quicker as he draws close. as he reaches her, he gently touches her elbow and she turns. not susie. the woman stares at jack, startled. for a moment, he doesn't move. finally, he lets go of her elbow.
jack walks down the street, mindless of the rain. frank follows a few yards behind.
jack and eddie, going for a walk, passing the diner where jack and frank's pictures are still displayed.
jack moves aimlessly down the street, slipping in and out of shadows. finally he stops inside a closed storefront, his back up against the window, and looks down at his hands. they're shaking.
jack is standing across the street from his mother's house, just looking. after a moment, he crosses the street. as he moves up the drive, he takes notice of the tree growing in the front yard and crosses to it, kneeling by the trunk and studying the scars there -- cat's claws -- running vertically up the tree, the damage smoothed and widened by time. he runs his fingers over the imperfection, then stands and walks toward the house.