that sort of thing
by Daniel Deisinger
I saw Tammy for the first time in July, as I pelted through the woods alongside the creek, keeping ahead of farmer O'Connell after freeing some of his pigs from their pen. Tammy saw me running from under the weeping willow next to the creek, and ran next to me. We hid up a tree together, but I jumped down before I got her name.
A few weeks later--August--I wanted to go swimming, since it was so hot, and I had almost stripped down to nothing before Tammy announced herself from under the weeping willow's shadow. I told her my name--I was going by Bobby at that age--and we set to talking and throwing rocks. She was Pamela Tewkslund, but she preferred Tammy. She wore a long-sleeved shirt and long pants down to her ankles even in the heat, and didn't want to get in the water, preferring to sit in the shade and shout back at me as I swam.
We found each other a few more times before school started. When it did start, I hunted her down, and we'd eat our lunches together, since we weren't in the same class.
Was she pretty? Can't rightly say. I suppose she was, but a boy not even ten doesn't know about that sort of thing. I'm sure she would have had all kinds of boys after her once she hit fourteen. She had a sharpness on her face, like her nose could cut glass, and plenty of heavy, dark hair. It looked sweltering in the heat, but she never complained.
I went over to her house in October when it started to get cool and farmers began cutting fields. I was still on the run from farmer O'Connell, so I stayed inside if I could.
Her parents were real happy to meet me. She didn't have a lot of friends over, according to Mrs. Tewkslund, and they made a pizza for us to eat while we watched television. We talked about all sorts of things: school, and the town harvest festival that was coming up on Halloween, and we laughed ourselves silly at the television.
In November, she came over to my house for dinner a few times, and my big, stinking family thought it was so wonderful I had brought a girl over. I had tons of sisters, over and under me, and they got her talking about hair and lipstick and things like that, and later on my sister Amy snuck into my room and asked me if I liked her. Like I said, a boy not even ten doesn't know about that sort of thing.
December came, and we made snowmen and had snowball fights with other kids, and hot cocoa and all that. We slid on the ice covering the creek, hanging on to the weeping willow's frozen branches. I once made a snow angel, and she sat looking at it for a long time.
She smiled a few times during those weeks before Christmas. I liked to see her smile, but I don't remember her doing it a lot. I gave her a pair of gloves for Christmas, and she gave me a football.
One day, in January, farmer O'Connell showed up at my house. By the time I got home from school, my parents had agreed I would help him during the summer for fifty cents a day, except on weekends, and unless I was sick. I didn't like it, but fifty cents was fifty cents, and it's not like I could say no.
In February, I must have done something stupid and gotten Tammy mad at me, but I don't know what it was. She didn't want to talk to me, and called me an idiot a few times at school, and when I went home after the second time, I petulantly told my parents she couldn't come over anymore because we couldn't say idiot in our house.
By March, we had made up, and those things forgotten. March was when she started missing school, but only a few times. My mom called her mom, and told me she had been sick, so I tried not to touch her.
I just need a moment.
In April, she started staying out of school for longer times, and sometimes I would call her when I got home, and we would talk for a while. She didn't sound sick, but her mother said she was sick, so I believed her.
Once, I asked Tammy when she was gonna get better, and she said she didn't know.
It finally got warm in May, and then school let out, which meant I had to help O'Connell with his pigs and such. It was hard work, and I hated it at first, but it was worth fifty cents and boy, believe me, those quarters put in their work same I did. I didn't see Tammy hardly at all during May, since I was busy, and she still had her sickness. But she did come over a few times.
I remember...her voice had changed. Something about her face had changed. I didn't know what it was. But she seemed to be getting better.
I didn't see her in June, even for my birthday. I had collected a nice jar of quarters by then, and once I went over so we could get some ice cream, but when I asked her mom, she said Tammy didn't want to come out.
No, it's all right. Just a second is all I need.
In July, her parents found her drowned in the creek. Her body floated in the weeping willow's shade. If it hadn't been for farmer O'Connell I probably would have found her, and I thank the Lord for that old man every July. I was at the funeral, and her parents hugged the shit out of me afterward.
During the car ride home, I told my parents she never swam in the creek, so somebody must have pushed her in.
My dad drove, and my mom turned around in her seat to look at me in my brand new suit. First time I ever wore a suit. Mom still has a picture of it somewhere.
She turned around and looked at me and said: "I don't think anybody pushed her in, Bobby. I think she got into the water by herself."
Of course, a boy only just ten doesn't know about that sort of thing.
*Originally published in Sheepshead Journal, Fall 2019.
Photo of Daniel Deisinger
BIO: Daniel is a great singer, wholly romantic, and is convinced he's alive. His work has appeared in over thirty publications, including Havik, Defenestration Magazine, and Ripples in Space. His new ebook Hymnfire is available on Amazon. His X account is @Danny_Deisinger, and his website is saturdaystory-Time.weebly.com.