bookish children

my stepbrother wrote to me
to tell me about his
eleven year old
daughter. she’s writing
a book, he said. she
reminds him of me.
she is about the age that I was
when my mother married
his father. it was not
at all like the Brady Bunch,
though my sister
and the two boys
might have thought so.

yes, I thought, reading
this message: remember
that poor girl, the one
who you tormented
for her bookishness, her
awkwardness, her lack of
interest and ability in
sports? remember
all the many, many times
you made her cry
by viciously mocking
her every single
word and deed? if
someone did that
to your daughter,
your sweet innocent child,
would you tell her
to forgive him,
to be his friend?

now maybe you can see
why I did not answer
your note.