48. Origin, part 2.

The cab sped along Atlantic Avenue. Nan had been to a party near here, years ago, some college guys. She had been involved with one of them, remembered thinking how cool it made her. Six of them had lived in a big, raw loft and had parties every weekend, crowded, loud, smoky affairs with red light bulbs, a deejay in the corner, and a dollar stuffed into a cup at the door. She struggled to remember the boy's name. Something with a B.

"What is your name?" she asked finally. Sid looked at her, but she was talking to the driver. "If it's not Sitaram, then what is it?"

The driver watched her in the rearview mirror. His voice was softer now. "Arvind," he said. Sid smiled.

"Where are you going?" the cabbie asked, looking now at Sid.

"To the place where we met," Sid said. The cabbie's eyes returned to Altantic Avenue.