Michael laughs a little at the Mario observation (it really is true), then wonders about the accuracy of the dad statement. He supposes a lot of the middle-aged men at the synagogue look vaguely similar, and most of them are fathers. Morris’s friends all kind of blend together as well, though as many of them are bachelors as have children. Why don’t any of these men stick out, like Wolfgang’s mother?
“I dunno what other family he has anywhere,” Michael says, turning contemplative. “Pop, I mean. He’s said stuff like, ‘Oh, my grandfather used to say such-and-such a thing,’ so I mean he didn’t hatch out of an egg, but if there’s anyone left they must be, you know. Not here.”
In Germany, probably. The conversation is treading close to things he’s been trying to put out of his mind for a while, but he doesn’t have the focus to redirect it at the moment. Soon. Soon he’ll change the subject.