Tonight the Streets Are Ours

An early spring night’s dream

Arden drove to the party, which was in a different part of Brooklyn. She plugged the address into her phone and let the GPS direct her there, because, although the party venue was only a few miles away, Peter had no idea how to get there. Apparently he took the subway or taxis everywhere.

“But I could tell you how to take the G to the L to get there,” he offered from the backseat. She’d been worried that the Heart of Gold wouldn’t live up to whatever rich-person transit he was accustomed to, but instead he just seemed delighted that there was a car for him to ride in at all, no matter how busted it was.

“I’ll G your L,” Arden replied, having no idea what these letters stood for. “Do you even know how to drive?” It was funny, these gaping holes in her understanding of Peter. She knew everything and nothing; she knew his inside jokes and most profound anxieties, but not simple facts like his last name or whether he had a license. Which of those was more important? Which of those did you really need to know a person?

“It’s okay if you can’t drive,” Lindsey said from her customary passenger seat up front. “Say it loud and proud. It’s not really as important a life skill as people make it out to be.”

“Only if you, like Lindsey, have a built-in chauffer,” Arden said.

“I can drive,” Peter said. “We have a summer place out in the Hamptons—”

“I know you do,” Arden interrupted.

He shook his head and laughed. “Of course you do. I keep forgetting how much you know. It’s hard to believe. Anyway, sometimes I drive my parents’ car when we’re out there. There’s just not much point to driving in the city. The subway runs twenty-four hours, and even if I did have a car here, it’s almost impossible to find legal parking. I’m surprised you have a car, actually.”

“Well, we don’t live here,” Lindsey said. “We’re just in town for tonight.”

“Where do you live?”

The topic hadn’t come up at the diner, while they’d been busy discussing Peter’s love life. “Maryland,” Arden said. “Close to the happening states of both Pennsylvania and West Virginia. MaryVirgiPenn.”

“Arden is trying to make ‘MaryVirgiPenn’ a thing,” Lindsey explained. “It hasn’t caught on yet, though.”

“Except with you,” Arden pointed out.

Lindsey tilted her head in accord. “I do say MaryVirgiPenn a lot.”

Peter looked impressed. “That’s a far drive. What brought you to the city this weekend?”

Arden shared a sidelong glance with Lindsey. She could be honest. But would that creep him out? She would be creeped out if a stranger drove hundreds of miles just to see her.

“Arden’s mom lives in Manhattan,” Lindsey said finally, which was a true statement, if not the truth.

“Where?” Peter asked.

“One thirty-three Eldridge Street,” Arden said, reciting the address from memory. She’d intended to throw away that slip of paper her dad had given her. She’d just never quite done it.

“Ah, a Lower East Side lady,” Peter said. “Cool.”

“Not really,” Arden said shortly. She didn’t totally know what or where the Lower East Side was, but any place where her mother lived did not sound that cool to her.

Clearly Peter could tell that she didn’t want to say anything more about it, because he changed the subject. “Why do you call your car the Heart of Gold?” he asked.

“It’s after the spaceship in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” Arden explained.

“Oh, yeah, I never read that book, but my brother was into it.”

Arden waited for him to volunteer more information about his brother here. When he didn’t, she went on. “Well, that was the name of their spaceship, and it got them everywhere they needed to be, just like my baby here.” Arden patted the dashboard.