Following yet another vodka-soaked, Ukrainian feast, I sat at the table and stared blankly ahead at the kitchen wall in Uncle Vladimir’s farmhouse. I was grinning like the village idiot, which was fitting since we were in a village.
Katya tried to get me to drink from a glass of water, to no avail.
“Bobby, drink this!” she commanded, putting the glass of mineral water up to my lips. I refused.
“Drink it!” she said, sternly.
“I have to go to sleep,” I said.
“No sleep. Drink.”
“I already drank too much.”
“This is water!”
I finally gave in and took a sip, dribbling most of it onto my chin and down the front of my shirt.
“This is all your fault!” Katya said, angrily pointing to her uncle and father.
“It’s not our fault that he can’t drink,” Uncle Vladimir retorted.
“We’d better get him to bed,” Elena…
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