“Marilyn, did you drive in?” I asked, a preventative measure to avoid what I sensed was a fast-approaching awkward silence. Kit let out a guffaw, as if the mere suggestion that his mother would operate a vehicle on the rough-and-tumble streets of Manhattan was preposterous. “No, I caught an early bus from Kutztown,” she explained, assuming I knew what the hell Kutztown was. “Ah, Kutztown,” I deadpanned. “I hear they have some of the world’s finest bus stations.” My joke landed with a thud. Kit just looked at me and shook his head. OK, then, well . . . small talk it was! “Did you hit much
...more
