Caught

I don’t know. Maybe someday I will.

I pick up the radio receiver. In my short time here, I have never gotten a call. Only Terese Collins and Ed Grayson have this number, so I’m surprised when I hear the familiar voice say, “I’m so sorry.”

I guess that I should hate the sound of her voice. I should be angry with her, but I’m not. I smile. In the end, in a way, she’s made me happier than I’ve ever been.

She is talking fast now, crying too, explaining herself. I listen with half an ear. I don’t need to know any of this. Wendy has called to hear three words. I wait. And when she finally gives me the chance, I am more than happy to say them to her:

“I forgive you.”