She drinks too much. Two aperitivos before dinner. A full bottle every night at our table. Afterwards, a night cap or two. Grappa for her, a kind of Italian poitín, and sometimes limoncello. When she drinks, she asks searching questions.’Why haven’t you found a woman, Charlie?’ Why hasn’t she found a man? Not men, but a man. ‘I don’t want to be a serial shagger,’ she says. ‘I want to settle down. It’s almost too late for kids. What happened to us all?’
from No Paradiso by William Wall
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