“Two and a half. But don’t get into it with him.”
János appeared polite, but a little grim and distant as we climbed into the family Chrysler. János said little and when he did it was in a heavy Hungarian accent. When we passed a brick church on Lorain Avenue, Millie said that was St. Angela Merici, where she went to grade school.
“You are Catholic?” János asked.
“Uhum,” Millie said.
“We are Lutherans.”
Millie said she was confused. She thought I was Catholic. I kept my trap shut about my secret hope of becoming a Catholic as soon as I turned 18. János glanced into the rearview suspiciously. Millie and me were huddled in a corner of the back seat. Nothing else was said. Millie must’ve sensed she said something wrong, because for the rest of the ride it was eerily quiet.
The next date
