I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a voice I hadn’t heard in five years.
“Archie?”
I gripped the phone.
“Emily?”
She started crying.
So did I.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I should have listened.”
Her voice trembled.
“I kept calling because I thought eventually you would.”
I closed my eyes.
“I remember the last time you called.”
She went quiet.
“You asked to stay with us,” I continued. “And I told you to go home.”
“Do you know what happened after that?”
“No.”
“I sat in my car for nearly an hour. I kept thinking maybe you’d call back.”
My throat tightened.
“Emily, I’m so sorry.”
She started crying again.
“I wasn’t asking you to fix my marriage, Archie. I just needed my brother.”
I pressed my hand against my eyes.
“I know that now.”
We talked for 20 minutes.
She didn’t promise to visit.
Didn’t say everything was forgiven.
