read
write
members
about
account

 

datedatememberrandomsearch

May 14, 2003
I picked myself more quickly off the ground this second time and followed the staggering line of my father. To my great delight, Mr. Calloway remained poring his attention on his drink, also mentally calculating whether or not he’d downed enough exhaustion-reducing dark bitterness. My father’s routine in leaving the bar was to make it as slow a departure as possible – both because he knew so many of the regular patrons and had to say a few words to each as he passed, and because the longer he stayed, the more likely he’d pass out completely when we got home.