Abi was a little caught out by him snapping but took a second of the shock in before she ran her thumb along the bridge of his knuckles and thought of something she could do to distract him from his memories; by talking about hers.
"My grandmother would have hated you, like I said. She wanted me to marry a good boy, lawyer type with a stable job and buy a house a block away with a fence and have babies until she was happy. I was her only grandchild, see, so all the lineage rested on me. No matter that she had brothers and sisters who had good Italian Roman Catholic children who had perfect Roman catholic children of their own..." she laughed. "I was the Irish hot head."
Could she even remember what her grandmother's house had been like? It had been over a decade since she was there. "Nonna's house was a Boston brownstone, really, two up and two down with a porch and concrete steps. I remember she had god-awful seventies mustard yellow and avocado green wallpaper and old victrola on a gramophone. She hated my cassettes and the music I loved. Of course."