I Doubt If He Remembers Me

I pick up the phone and call unknown people daily. It is part of my job, and I get a kick out of it. I call and talk, and laugh and chat, and it is fun. I stare at the calendar. My brother’s birthday. My sister has urged me to call him. I have not spoken to him for six or eight years. I doubt he remembers who I am. I reach for the phone, stare at the number. What would I say? If he would answer. What do we have in common? What is there now? I put the phone down, staring at the number. It might not even be his number. Ding ding. It is a text from my sister. “Did you call Rex?” This is almost as irritating as me not being able to call him.