My grandmother was seriously upset again, and she told my father to go to the tavern to get my grandfather and bring him back home. She handed my father money for the bus, which he scoffed at, saying he could hardly bring my grandfather, drunk, home that way. He needed taxi fare, he said. My grandmother, a tightly wound Scottish lady from the high islands, parted with a fair bit of money to get the job done. And then she waited. And then she took the bus to the tavern herself where she found my father as drunk as my grandfather. In high dudgeon she told them both to forget about coming home, she never wanted to see either of them again.
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