Page 69 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

“No. Not Ben.”

His mouth slams shut.

And he stares at me.

It’s so quiet.

Until police sirens wail in the distance.

Then he drops his head, chest rising fast.

Then faster.

Snow starts to fall,

first flake landing on his shoulder,

then his bare arm.

He squeezes his sweatshirt in one fist and scrapes down his face with the other, trying to bolt the door on a rising tide⁠—

a scream, a tear, another punch⁠—

keep it locked in.

And I don’t know what to do.

I don’t feel the cold anymore.

I can’t smell anything anymore either.

Not blood.

Not beer.

Not winter.

Nothing.

My lungs burn from trying not to breathe. Because he’s not walking away.

He’s standing there, bare arms and black hair dusted with snow.

Why isn’t he walking away?

“Andrew.

“I don’t think you understand⁠—”

“Nah.” His voice catches,

and he clears his throat.

“I fuckin’ get it.”

He wipes his nose.

“I heard you. I just…”