"Lviv..." "No, Slavutych," she commanded before I could get past the second syllable of my order. "And a jui..." "What kind?" she asked with a face that suggested the wrong choice would probably result in a suicide attempt. She disappeared for ten minutes, banged the drinks down on the table and stomped away without a word, returning only to change the ashtray after each of my brother's cigarettes.
I came back from the toilet to find the table cleared. "Have you asked for the bill?" I asked my dad. "No, she just came and collected the glasses," he said, while she stood with her back to us at the bar. We sat and waited. "Can we have the bill, please?" I finally called over. She turned slowly, looked us up and down, then vanished for another five minutes.