"I never told you my last name!" she said, as if that explained everything. Whatever everything was. "I see what you're getting at: How could I ask if you remember that I dropped that course to get into this linguistics programming stuff when you don't even know my last name. It's because I never told you."
He went to take another sip of wine, but then decided to hold off for a bit.
"It's Green. Ivy Green. Can you stand it?"
"It's certainly very Earth conscious."
"Very funny. The only green I think Rick and Jeannette had in mind when they named me was reefer."
He burst out laughing. "How come?"
"Oh, please. Don't you get it? I'm a Sixties baby, like, 'Make Love, Not War,' 'Give Peace a Chance,' 'If It Feels Good, Do It.' Well, they did it. They met at Woodstock, no kidding, and, a few years later, they did it, made me, and got married and all. How it felt, I mean, good or not, I never asked. Quit laughing. They moved to California, lived right at the corner of Haight and Ashbury, and found peace and all that. Later, when my dad accidentally started his own herbal tea company - yes, it's the brand you've got on the shelf there in the kitchen - they moved to Mill Valley. That's where I grew up, with parents who told me to call them by their first names, so we'd get closer to where we visualized ourselves in the universe. Or some shit like that."
"Sorry, I'm not laughing at the circumstances. It's the way you tell it."
"No problem. I'm still amused by the Rick and Jeannette Show." From out of nowhere came a pout. Then: "But I'm not goin' to live my life like they did." She sniffed deeply. "Um, I'll be right back."
Had he offended her? He'd meant no harm in laughing. He was just amused by her deadpan delivery. While she excused herself, Peter got up from the table. Her talk about the Sixties had aroused some vague sentiment in him. Whatever. All of the sudden the place seemed too quiet. While she was away from the table he got up and loaded a compact disc into his stereo system. The first track was a folksy acoustic number.