My Son Started Packing My Barbecue Into Takeout Boxes

week before.

He put the dish in front of me.

“Sorry it took so long.”

I looked at it.

Then at him.

He nodded toward the garage bags. “And those too.”

“Thank you.”

He sat there with his hands between his knees, staring at the salt shaker.

Finally he said, “Ashley’s mad.”

I said, “I assumed.”

He gave one tired half-laugh.

Then, very quietly, he said, “I think everybody continue reading …