Wendy

When I was in kindergarten, 4 or 5, I had a best friend at school. Wendy was so much fun to color with. I was happy sitting with her.

She had a developmental disability, or intellectual disability. I don’t know. We were toddlers and I didn’t notice anything. She was my coloring friend and I loved her – that’s what I knew.

One day I went to the playground and saw her crying so I hugged her.

Next thing I knew my brother, Brian, was pulling me aside. Then I saw the kids circled around her teasing her.

Brian said I had to leave and not help her if the kids would make fun of him. He is five years older and I was afraid of him.

I’ll never forgive myself for not thinking of going back to her. My brother told me to do something and I was so manipulated and emotionally abused by him and my parents that I walked away from someone I wanted to help.

I wanted to hug her more and be there for her.

I’m so sorry. I think about it often. I hope she has always had a loving family and so much support. I hope she never looked back and forgot all about me and those children.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be a stronger child. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for her.

The next day at school she yelled at me. The teacher took her out of the classroom. My heart was breaking with the guilt. I know she felt worse.

Brian is not a better person.