I turned my car off and sat for a moment in silence, hearing none of the nighttime forest noises for the sound of blood rushing through my ears.
Then I walked to the front porch and knocked on the door.
Footsteps sounded faintly on the other side.
And then I was face-to-face with Wilder, with my brother, looking into eyes that were so familiar but older and slightly more lined, as he looked back at me and many, many unspoken words passed between us.
At last he opened his mouth.
“Ellie,” he said, and broke into a wide smile. “I knew you could do it.”
Twenty-Five
The following is a transcript from the recorded conversation between the author and her brother on August 29, 2022.]
E: What the hell, Wilder. What the hell?
W: I’ll explain everything, I promise. Come in, Ellie, please. Come see our home.
E: I’d like to know more about that “our.”
W: Yeah, it’s ... just come in. I told you, I’ll explain. Can I get you some coffee?
E: I’ve come to the edge of the world to find you after four years, and you ask me if I want coffee right now?
W: Well . . . do you?
E: Yes.
W: Okay, then. Come to the kitchen.
E: Okay.
[A silence falls, and the sound of shuffling is heard, a chair scraping across the floor, the tick of a gas burner and the light clang of a kettle.]
W: We do French press these days.
[No response; the water boils.]
W: Cream and sugar?
E: Please.
W: Here we are. Just like old times, isn’t it? Meeting up for coffee when you were off classes in Pittsburgh, or every other week when we were in LA, me rambling on about how my life was falling apart ...
E: Wilder . . .
W: I know, Ellie. I’ll tell you everything now. I’m just trying to figure out where to start.
E: Maybe with that little girl who looks just like you poking her head around the counter.
W: What? Lilla, you’re supposed to be in bed.
L: Who’s she?
E: I could ask the same thing.
W: Come here. Come on, it’s okay. Meet your aunt Ellie. Say hi.
