My hands are sweaty as I drive through bumper to bumper traffic with three more people in the car. Abbey and Erick are making out in the back and Lydia and I are sitting awkwardly up front. I barely know Lydia and she only listens to indie music. So, the radio is out. I won’t be able to talk to her, practically a stranger. So I look out the window as I roll to a stop. I see the epic beaches and palm trees as tall as houses. I want to smell the sea, so I open my window but quickly roll it back up when I hear the honking and cursing that comes natural with LA traffic. In that instance, I heard the crashing waves, barely audible to even a composers ears. Those waves that I dream of and feel at night when I lay down. That feeling of “Woah dude!”, like a surfer.
Lydia finally says, “Do they do this all the time?” She was referring to the mumbling coming from the back seat. There were these vomit-inducing giggles and whispers going on in the back. I, for some reason, looked in the back. With regret, I turned back to her and said, “This is a first for my car. Geez,”
I was trying to think of the camling sand that came with the beach. The steaming, hot feeling when you first get to the beach and the cool, relaxing feeling from the sand underneath. I crave the icy, salty water that comes shortly after I cook my feet. If only my feet were there and not constantly on the brake pedal.
Lydia asked me if I had any cd’s. I had a few, all Beatles and The Stones though. They were my muses. I had to listen once I put it on and I had to sing when I was alone. She said it would be fine, but I could tell she could care less what she was about to listen to. I told her to put in “Rubber Soul”. She obliged and I went to my favorites, number one, “Drive My Car” I adored this song. I always thought I would be the girl and I would turn to Paul and go, “Start your engine, babe!” My childhood was filled with the Beatles and this song. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.
I could hear Lydia turning up her nose at me and the song. I really didn’t care what she thought. That is until she quickly turned the radio off and said, “How can you listen to that, Stella?” she asked with such disdain in her voice that I wanted to cry. How could anyone not like the Beatles? Well, obviously, my opinion doesn’t matter to her. Even though I was programmed to get to know the people I’m with, I couldn’t do it.
“I love it! Don’t you know the Beatles?” I asked her in a questioning, accusing tone.
Lydia just rolled her eyes. No more conversation. Just blank stares out the windshield onto the dealer plate of a shiny, new BMW. I wanted to like Lydia. Abbey had talked so highly of her that I thought she would be a good, nice person. Nope, Abbey just wanted me to have someone to maybe talk to while she and Erick went at it.
“How long is this going to take?” Abbey questioned from the backseat.
“Oh, you’re alive? Maybe a half hour,” I told her. The truth was I really didn’t know. I hope it’s a half hour.
“Good,” Lydia and Abbey both said.
“How’re you guys doing back there?” I asked, hoping to get an appropriate answer.
“Fine. Just fine,” I could hear Abbey beaming, giggling about being fine. “Oh, Lydia! You have to tell Stella about your obsession with broadway,”
Finally. An epiphany. I love broadway, everything about it, the people in the shows, the music for them. I love it.
“Oh! Yeah, I really like Phantom, Newsies, Wicked, Jersey Boys, and The Book of Mormon. Andrew is phenomenal in it,”
“Me too!” I thought of all the songs I had memorized, all the characters I look up to, and all the boys I had fawned over. Lydia and I talked the rest of the car ride about Evita and Mamma Mia
and all the others, the greats. But the best part was that I had made a connection. I made, technically, a new friend.
The only thing I don’t like about Lydia is that she is very opinionated. She knew what she did and did not like and she tried to make me the same. I also knew what I did and didn’t like and she didn’t seem to care. She was like a dictator who had a too big voice and a too big ego.
We got closer to home, finally. I dropped Lydia off first, even though I wanted to keep talking. She said that she would love to go to New York one day with me. I thought it was a little forward but I love New York and would love to get to know Lydia even better.
“Goodnight, Goodnight, Everyone!” She said as if she was Maria in West Side Story. I smiled as wide as ever.
Next, I drove to Erick’s in silence. Abbey was mourning their parting. I wanted to pull over and yell at Erick, but I didn’t because I would lose Abbey, too. Erick left without too much whining. Abbey was a different story. The whole time to her house she was complaining about how it was cold and lonely in the back. I could care less.
She got home safe and I went home with John, Paul, George, and Ringo blasting. Today was not what I expected but I got through it. I opened myself up to a new person and it payed off. I found a new friend who I was not suspecting. I will, in the end, appreciate this night.