"They wouldn't listen," she said.
"Of course, they wouldn't?" he said. "Ever listen to your parents? Ever listen to someone older and wiser?"
"I still don't. I still have to tell my mother what she's doing wrong. How she should handle my dad. My sister."
He turned to her. "Why is that? Why do we ignore the people who have been through it before?"
"It's the nature of humanity," she said. "We all develop believing we know best. When you're an infant, it's called exploring. When you're a teen, it's called rebeling. When you're in your twenties and thirties, it's called finding yourself. When you're in your fifties and sixties, it's called having a selective memory about what you did in all the previous stages."
"How's your merlot?" he asked.
"I could use another one," she said. As he gestured to the barmaid, the woman continued, "Of course, one of the bits of advice my mother gave me back in college was never to drink too much around a man. Need to have all your faculties, she said. And no man likes a lush."
"And you didn't listen to her."
"I did not."