After dinner, Charlie grabbed two beers from the fridge and sat out on the porch swing, waiting. For me, Evan thought as he cleared the table. He rinsed the dishes and considered sticking them in the dishwasher, turning it on and sitting outside with his friend, but instead he filled the sink with warm, soapy water and washed the dishes by hand as he stared out the kitchen window at the backyard. Stalling for time—he realized that. He was glad he couldn’t see the porch, but he could hear the faint creak of the swing through the open window and every now and then he heard Charlie clear his throat, as if about to call out, ask if Evan wanted to join him…but he didn’t. And Evan couldn’t say no if he was never asked.
When the dishes were drying and the pots sank below the sudsy water to soak,
