My Son Started Packing My Barbecue Into Takeout Boxes

”

He didn’t.

Because again, there wasn’t one.

His voice changed then. Smaller. Tired.

“You don’t like her.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“This isn’t about liking her. I don’t trust her manners, and I don’t like what happens to you when she’s around.”

“That’s my wife.”

“And I’m your mother. The one who paid for the food you were stealing off my table.”

He got loud continue reading …