Page 429 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

“Tell me more.”

Lisa’s head drops back.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

Paola turns her narrowed eyes at her.

“No, I wanna know.”

“I saw the documentary,” Sera announces, eyes half-rolling. “It’s literally all bullshit.”

“It’s literally a global crisis,” I shoot back, rising onto my toes to grab a container from the top cabinet. “Did you know the average person consumes a credit card with the amount of water they drink from plastic bottles in a week alone? True story. And it doesn’t stop at the heart. Plastic exposure can mess with hormones, tumor risk, cancer⁠—”

My head swings behind me to Maria.

“Liver disease.”

Maria slaps a hand to her chest. “Madonn’. You mean maybe it was never the wine?”

“No, Maria.” Lisa snorts.

“For you, it was always the wine.”

Maria throws a pill bottle at her.

“Don’t worry. I’m not staying,” I say, pawing through another cabinet. “I’m just replacing everything with glass containers, plastic-proof Andrew’s bathroom, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Paola follows me around the kitchen,

still holding the trash bag.

“What glass containers?”

“The ones I bought for the house.”

Sera’s mid-sip when a laugh shoots out of her. She gulps down the rest. “You bought strangers glass tupperware?”

I click my tongue. “I bought Andrew and his moms glass containers,” I correct while reaching for the fridge handle, then grumble, “Ones that don’t whisper cancer into Andrew’s baked ziti.”

I swing the fridge door open,

the cold air rushing out.

Paola’s hand lands on my shoulder.

“Allison, you don’t have to do all this.”

Maria rocks back in her recliner, the fire in the hearth reflecting her glasses. “She loves us.”

“Maria,” Lisa warns.

“This is concerning.”

“It’s love,” Maria insists.

I ignore both ‘cause I’m staring into the fridge, a little petrified. It’s stocked from bottom to top for Christmas.

Foil trays. Stuffed shells.