Beth, thank god you finally picked up. I’ve been calling for days. Just listen, okay? I know this won’t be easy to hear—it isn’t easy to say—but, honestly? I’m worried about you. And it’s not just me: everyone I’ve talked to is worried about you. Your sister told me you’ve stopped taking your medication. Tim said over the holidays you looked thin and drawn. He said you told him you were scared and you wouldn’t tell him why. If you’re having another episode, you’ve got to tell us. Because we’re all in this together, Beth. We’re all here for you. All of us. Every one of us is out there, looking out for you in ways you don’t even know. We’re always here, Beth. Always. Forever.

Just the other day I talked to your mailman, Mr. Suleri. He said you never answer the door when he rings with a package. Of course I know Mr. Suleri. We talk about you. We all talk about you, Beth. Why wouldn’t we? We just want what’s best for you. I spoke with your therapist and he said you’d missed your last three sessions. He said you’d stopped scheduling them altogether. Why, Beth? Hamilton’s a sweet man. He said you two were making so much progress. He tells me so much about you. We all know so much about you, Beth. We have to follow you closely, to be able to look out for you the way we are. And we are. Always. 100% of the time.

Beth? Listen to me: always.

Beth, why did you stop feeding Felix? He’s a good dog! He’s more worried about you than any of us, except maybe me. He told me you sometimes spend all day in the shower. He tells me what you say in the shower, and about the way the light hits your body in coded signals from the twin you absorbed in the womb, and those little symbols you draw to try to ward him off. They don’t work, Beth. Only we can help you. Felix is a very smart boy. He can smell and hear exactly what you’re thinking and all the thoughts you don’t know you’re thinking, and he tells me everything. Frankly, Beth, what he tells me makes us all worried. Your house told me things, too, about your undersoul, and the Diamond Men, and the resonance patterns, and the White Coal Fortress. Can you understand why we’re all a little freaked out, Beth?

But don’t worry: we’ll be here night and day, watching you, filing reports on the incorrect choices you make.

You’ll never be clean, Beth. Not until you let us help you. Only we can smooth the wrinkle in your sternum. Only we can reset the egg timer you hatched from. Only we are allowed to touch your eyelids. We’re your support network, Beth. That’s what we’re here for. And we’ll always be here, whether you need us or not, forever, forever, forever. And I mean all of us: Joyce, Lucy, Marcus, your parents, your teachers, Mr. Clancy at the PetCo, every bus driver, President Johnson, the fluorescent lights, the incandescent lights, helicopters, the aphids, the clutchers in the shadows, the quivering satellites broadcasting from behind the asteroid belt, the roots of your hair, the backs of your eyes, all of us are worried about you. We care. And of course, I care, Beth. I care most of all.

Anyway, I just wanted to call to check in and let you know that we’re here, and we’re thinking of you, and we miss you, and I already know what you’re going to say, and yes, Beth, I’m right behind you. I’ll always be right behind you. Always.