Creeley had rented a fenced-in beach cottage and I was told to stop by when I wished, but I was hesitant to go. It was getting near sunset, I hadn't gone to the beach, and I decided to enter the beach through Creeley's because any other way would be a long trek. I peered in through the gate and there were people sunning in the courtyard. I entered and walked by them and then into a dining room where Bob, Ron, and seven others had dined on grilled fish, climbing onto a table to exit through a casement window to the sand. Opening the window crushed what remained of the cakes on the dessert tray. A woman said, "That's Ian, he hasn't been to the beach all day." Returning from the beach, my father was there to tell me that a guy he had lunch with on Tuesdays killed himself and that I wasn't helping out enough.