Page 115 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

undressed, unrehearsed, unsober.

“Don’t go nowhere…

“Not even… not even a little.”

My heart collapses.

To its knees.

Begging me not to ruin this.

Begging me to keep him.

We’re both fucked up.

Our skin’s pale, peeled raw by heat and cold when we jump out.

Our hearts are punch-drunk,

beating dumb and wild.

Our lips are blue.

Our mouths bone dry.

The second my feet slap the cold stone:

“Shit—fuck—fuck⁠—”

Ice grabs my ankles,

my thighs,

my spine.

I snatch a towel off the stand and bolt, leaving him behind like a drunk asshole. I don’t even have time to wrap myself in the towel before I’m running naked and barefoot, slipping all over my own stupid feet.

I don’t look back.

I’m laughing too hard.

“You—yo, Sonny—what about the mess?!” he shouts behind me, voice caving in from the cold. He shivers as he slips on his boxers, gesturing toward the pile next to the hot tub. “We can’t leave it like this.”

Empty bottles. Blueberry bag.

Clothes and shoes. Cigarette butts.

“Yes we can!” I yell,

shoulder-checking the door open,

hands purple, teeth knocking,

fingers going numb.

“I can’t,” he calls back, clutching his shit like he’s evacuating a natural disaster—arms full of clothes, his shoes, the corkscrew, my bra.

“I wanna leave it, aight? I do. But I can’t. I got issues. Brain don’t let me walk away from shit like that.”