Eli said. “It’s not something I could imagine wanting.” He had both hands on the steering wheel and he beat out a rhythm with his thumbs while he talked. “And the older I get, the more I dislike driving.” “I said I would be happy to drive.” “You’re better with directions. And I love you for it. I suck at directions.” They were nearly in Millerton, in their old white Saab, which had first belonged to Eli’s cousin who designed high-end speakers and lived in a suburb outside Denver. They had Emily’s iPod plugged into the car’s amazing stereo and they were listening to Exile on Main Street. Emily always wanted to listen to Feist and Eli preferred Dinosaur Jr. Listening to the Rolling Stones and Caetano Veloso was how they compromised, leaving them, Emily knew all too well, both somewhat satisfied and also wanting something else. “You see, we’re already into the good part of the weekend.” Emily reached out and touched his thigh. “I didn’t even know you think about the story of your life.”
