Page 425 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

as it spins and settles.

“Our storage containers are phthalate-free,” Mark insists.

AI Brooke: “Phthalate-free does not mean toxin-free, and it does not mean harmless.”

My eyes widen.

I swing them to the other speaker.

“Mark? Care to explain?”

Mark grumbles, then fixes his voice.

“Ma’am, we’d like to replace the lid for you at no cost. All we need is your address.”

But all I can see is Andrew at the fridge.

The door opening.

Him bending down.

The cold blowing in his face.

His hand reaching in.

Pulling the tupperware out.

And my heart stops.

60 / DOESN’T DO ME ANY GOOD

STEPHEN SANCHEZ

// 56 HRS 41 MINS OF SPACE, 8:53 PM - UNION CITY, NJ //

By the time I reach Union City, snow’s coming down hard, fat white flakes sticking to my windshield.

The only spot is two streets over from his house, and after parking, I shiver inside my black jacket as my snow boots stomp through sleet.

Andison’s tucked against one hip, blinking stars into my hair, and both of my arms are lined with bags.

When I reach Andrew’s house, I pause on the sidewalk to catch my breath. From the window, a colorful Christmas tree glows.

The last time I had a real Christmas tree, I was fifteen. Stringing lights, hanging ornaments, topping it off with a star, then passing by it every day for an entire month—it's all more painful than not having one at all.

Christmas trees are for families.

With memories,

and presents,

and tradition,

and people who sneak zabaglione

in the middle of the night.

I grip the bags tighter.