I don’t know. I was prepared to wing it, and, while sitting at my home office desk staring at all the tasks I had to complete today, I decided to call the number.
The only information I have is a work telephone number, and I wasn’t even sure that would lead anywhere. Nonetheless, it’s been sitting bookmarked on my internet browser for about six months. I decided to call.
I figured I’d lead with my regrets for calling him at work and my hope that he would call me later. What would that feel like, the call out of nowhere from the brother of the man whose life you tried to save and couldn’t? Whose belt slipped out of your hands as you watched him tumble down the side of a cliff ledge? Would he look around, marveling at the surreal-ness of my voice on his work line, a voice he hadn’t heard in 10 years?
I wasn’t sure, about any of it, but I knew I to call. Someone else picked up. The person I wanted to talk to had just “stepped out.” Did I want to leave a message? I didn’t.