“I’ll help, Jujubees,” Stefan said, attempting to cut the tension with his childhood nickname for her, after the candies she once told him she liked as a child. A few moments later, Stefan emerged. “Another announcement! I have just drawn my first latte art! Mom, this is called the tree of life, but I think it looks more like a blowfish.” Everybody got interested in the hearts and leaves and panda faces he made with successive cups.

A half hour after coffee, we left. As Jep drove, I glanced at my phone, a few student messages and one from a friend who’d moved to Boston but was coming back to town for a conference.

And then there was this: Longing Esme/hair of weeds/eyes of starfish/teeth of seeds. Longing Esme/tears of rain/hands of sea glass/song of pain.

That night I called the number. The phone was no longer in service.

But two hours later, just after I had fallen asleep, I saw my phone light up on the bedside table. I picked up. She was on the line, her breath catching like a crying child. It was a new number.

“Is this...you? So you changed your number?”

“I didn’t want you to find me until I was ready to tell you more.” Then she added, “It has to be this way. Is Stefan okay?”

“Not really,” I said. “Why did you send me Belinda’s poem? Did you know Belinda? If you have something to say, just say it and stop tormenting me and yourself.”

“I can’t,” she said. “It’s too late. I did things. If I said what I did, I would be all alone.”

“It sounds like you’re pretty alone right now,” I said, relenting.

“I am. Don’t ask why.”

“Well, you need some help. Seriously. Professional help. I know you weren’t there. I know exactly who was there. So please stop playing this game.”

She sighed and said, “You don’t know. You think you do, but you don’t. No one can help me now. Please just do what I asked. Just tell Stefan.”

But I still couldn’t tell Stefan about the caller, and I still didn’t. I had wanted all my life to practice restraint, and this seemed like the time. Let each day’s evil be sufficient unto that day. I weighed the caller’s warning against the positivity Stefan was beginning to feel around his return to the ordinary world. The warning felt threatening and absurd, fashioned from dark alarm. The prospect of Stefan settling down felt sunny and sensible, more like normal life.