I barely eat. I’ve dropped to about a hundred pounds, on a five-foot-ten frame. I’m a stick, nearly skeletal. My cheekbones could cut you. My hipbones, my pelvic bones protrude. You can count my ribs. I have no energy. I’m sick all the time. I snap at everyone. I am filled with rage and sorrow and bitterness. I have moved beyond grief. This is something else.

This is the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

I am not anything like fucking all right.

The letter shakes noisily in my hands, and I know I need backup for this.

My purse is on the counter, and it feels very, very far away. My legs struggle to support me, and I wobble like a newborn fawn. Brace myself on the counter with one hand and paw through my purse until I find my cell. Drop it on the counter from nerveless fingers. Swipe clumsily to open it. Find Tess’s speed dial, and it rings on speakerphone.

“Nads, babe, hi.” She’s in the car, I can tell. “What up?”

“I…I need you.”

“I’m there. Give me…seven minutes, tops. Don’t…don’t do anything.”

“It’s not like that. I just need you.”

It nearly was like that several times. I sat in the tub, once, a month ago, bubbles up to my neck, and contemplated dropping the plugged-in curling iron in with me. I contemplated it like one would contemplate having a fourth glass of wine, or that last bite of chocolate mousse cake.

I didn’t. Some fucked-up part of my soul told me that Adrian would be so angry if I did. And for some reason, that stopped me. A dead man would be mad at me if I committed suicide.

Okay, Nadia.

Another time, looking for Tylenol because I had a headache, I found a bottle of leftover Nuclear Option painkillers. I had a bottle of vodka downstairs. A handful of these, a few long slugs from the Goose. Bye-bye, cruel world.

Again, I didn’t. I took one Tylenol, put away the vodka, and binged on a season of Dexter until my next shift.

Two days ago, driving home from work. I’d spaced out and found myself drifting into oncoming traffic lanes. Fortunately, for me, it was three in the morning and the road was empty except for me. But I’d thought, it would be so easy. Find a semi, swerve in front of it.

But then I realized I’d be dragging that poor innocent driver along with me, and having cared for head-on collision victims, I couldn’t do that to anyone.

The thoughts occurred, is the point. Tess’s worry is not unfounded.

I hear the front door, Tess’s heels clicking rapidly. She smells like Chanel perfume, and looks like she just came from the boardroom of a multimillion-dollar company.

“Where were you?” I asked, by way of greeting.