"Me, apologize?" she shouted at him, crushing her cigarette in the ashtray. "What should I apologize for? For not wanting her to become a police officer? Was that a career for Sandy Dendrinou's daughter? Riding around on a motorcycle, hair cut like a rookie, chasing thieves, junkies, and murderers? She could have had the world at her feet, married the best!"
"You mean the richest..." he corrected her, risking the peak of her anger, which happened, and the ashtray landed on the opposite wall.
"Socrates!" she shouted. "Don't make me any angrier! Is it a crime for a mother to want the best for her daughter? She went and fell in love with a nobody with a troubled past!"
"What are you saying?" he responded. "What troubled past? The man was a musician, a teacher!"
"Are you pretending to be stupid now? With a problematic brother!"
"The child was autistic, Sandy. Come to your senses! And you can't play God in other people's lives! Not even your daughter's. She loved Odysseas, that's who she married!"
"And we've seen what became of her," came the sharp remark.
Socrates sighed deeply. His shoulders suddenly slumped, his head lowered, tired as well.
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