23
Tom’s five o’clock alarm rattled his head. Its one-two, left-right combination heightened the symptoms of his hangover from the previous night’s family celebration.
Helen’s parents had latched onto Vic as Helen’s replacement, much as Tom had done. They treated her as if she had grown up in their household and shared the same customs. First, the feast with wine, then the dancing, some mandatory breaking of plates, then ouzo and reminiscing about the good times in Greece and the present-day troubles.
The only time Angelo ever got angry was when he talked about the Greek government. He was a silent communist who had taken what he could from free enterprise and like most men, lived with his own hypocrisy by justifying it as the need to take care of his family.
The bruises on Tom’s face
