My Son Started Packing My Barbecue Into Takeout Boxes

looked up.

“Mom, it’s fine.”

“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

He blinked at me like I was the one acting strange.

Diane folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.

“Well. This feels dramatic.”

Frank had that look on his face he gets when he’s trying hard not to step in too soon. He knows me. He knew if I was speaking now, after all the years I hadn’t, then I continue reading …