I never thought anything of it, since all the changes were so gradual that they just sort of crept up on me. And, too, I hadn't really started noticing girls as girls; they were still friends and classmates and all the sexual games hadn't started yet. My endocrine glands were still fast asleep and they didn't really wake up till much later. I didn't have my first wet dream until I was thirteen and then I woke up thinking I'd pissed the bed. What followed was a rather embarrassing talk with Mr. Langston, who explained things to me.
Basically Tabby was staking a claim on me. When I would go over to Vancouver with her and her family and stare at the guitars hanging in pawnshop windows like exotic animals, she'd lean on my shoulder and whisper quietly so her folks wouldn't hear, "I'll be your number one groupie, Bobby." Then she'd giggle and laugh at my mystified expression.
One thing I liked about her was that she never criticized my dreams. I told her about how I wanted to learn guitar, although at that age I couldn't really articulate everything I hoped to achieve; I just didn't have the emotional vocabulary to express heavy concepts like reaching for dreams or aspiring to greatness. Even now I know it sounds silly. I wasn't ever going to be a god damn rock star, and I knew it.
But Tabby never laughed at me. She'd give me that white toothed smile that reached all the way to her deep brown eyes and say, "Go for it, Bobby. I'm behind you all the way."
"What, you're not gonna laugh at me?"
She smiled again. "I would never do that, Bobby. I think you can do whatever you want."
I think that was when I started loving her as more than my friend Tabby whose family had taken me in. NO sexual components yet, she was just this super special girl who believed in me, no matter what. Do you realize how fucking rare that is? Not once in all the time I knew her did Tabby say, "I'm not sure you should do that, Bobby." She never said, "Maybe you should take some time to think about that, Bobby." She was behind me in everything I wanted to do, and she supported me and tried to help me wherever she could.
Things rolled along pretty smoothly all through that year until Labor Day. That was when I almost died.
Chapter Two
I almost surely would've died if it hadn't been for Tabby. She saved me, again.
It was a boiling hot day in southwest Washington. I think the thermometer topped off at 105 degrees, and it was dry as a barbecue pit in hell. All of us were pretty much loafing in the house with the windows open and fans blowing as hard as they could. The cows were huddled miserably in the barns and under trees. All we wanted to do was sleep.
"Let's go to the lake," Tabby said suddenly. She was curled up on the floor listlessly turning the pages of a comic book.
I perked up slightly. I was lying a few feet away from her, flipping through a guitar magazine. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'm boiling."
"Okay, let me grab the picnic basket," Mrs. Langston said, heaving herself to her feet and going to the kitchen. "Why don't you get your suits and meet us down in the garage."
"I can see I'm out voted here," Mr. Langston grumped, smiling and rising also. "Seems just the thing though."
Tabby and I bounced off to our rooms, and within fifteen minutes we were all heading toward Vancouver Lake.
We of course weren't the only people with the same idea. I guessed there were probably twenty families scattered around. Somebody had hooked their radio to a loud speaker in the back of their truck, and rock was blaring over the water. There was even barbecuing going on, although how anyone could think of hanging around a fire on a day as god awful hot as this one was a complete mystery to me. The smell of grilled meats was pleasant, though. It's one of those iconic summer experiences, like smelling apple pies baking in the middle of winter.
We found a little spot that hadn't already been invaded by squealing babies and sullen teenagers and spread a blanket on the sand. And then we had a big, old fashioned water fight!
We crashed into the warm waters of the lake and played chicken, with Tabby on my back and Mrs. Langston on her husband's. We were all roaring with laughter and shrieking with delight as we fell into the water, knocked over by the other duo. We splashed each other insanely, playing silly games on who splashed the biggest splashes. The winner got dunked, and so did the loser; it was just pure silliness.
"Well kids, you done tuckered me out," Mr. Langston said after a while, pretending to be a feeble old man. "Just can't keep up with you rascals anymore."
"Come on, fool," Mrs. Langston said, tugging his arm and smiling at him affectionately. "Let's go sit on the beach and let these young'uns play for a while."
"Don't go too far out, kids," Mr. Langston said, before swimming back to the beach with his wife. They settled on the blanket and kept a watchful eye on us. They were snuggled up holding hands and she was giving him that smile I saw her give him sometimes when she thought we weren't looking. It was a smile that said she was his woman and he was the most important thing in her world.
There was some kind of flash in my mind. I don't know why it hit me just then, but I suddenly realized that it was the same look Tabby had been giving me for a while now. They say girls mature faster than boys, and I felt like the world's biggest idiot for not realizing it sooner.
Unfortunately, this moment of epiphany caused me to not pay attention to what I was doing. I was yanked suddenly out of my thoughts by a tugging at my ankle and, before I realized it, I was yanked brutally under water just as I was taking a breath.
There are only a few things in the world that totally wipe out any rational thought process and drag your focus completely onto the matter at hand. One is a truly awesome orgasm; another is vomiting your guts out; and another is drowning. While these events are occurring your focus is completely upon the event in question and you don't have room in your head for anything else.
I thrashed wildly, but the more I struggled, the further under I went. Black flowers blossomed and died before my eyes as my brain began to shut down for lack of oxygen. I heard a roaring in my ears and my chest hurt. I flailed and thrashed more and more weakly. The darkness was creeping around the edges of my vision and suddenly the water began to seem more comforting, rather than being the thing that kept me from living. It now seemed like if I gave into the urge to breathe all my problems would be over. What was the use, the water seemed to say, I'll make everything better. Just breathe … breathe…
Then I felt a body crash into me and something slipped off my ankle. I was grabbed around the chest, squeezing the last rancid sip of oxygen out of my lungs, and yanked upwards until, with a wrenching, horribly painful gasp I breathed in the fresh air for the first time in what felt like whole geological ages.
The first few gasps of air tore down my throat like mouthfuls of razor blades. I felt myself dropped onto a hard surface and somebody was pressing on my chest. Gradually I became aware of somebody shouting at me. Through the fog of oxygen deprivation I heard: "Don't you dare die on me, Bobby Torrence! I didn't put all this fucking trouble into you just to have you drown on me. Don't you dare!"
I realized that I was on a float in the middle of the lake, and Tabby was kneeling beside me while Mr. Langston floated next to me, giving me light chest compressions to help me breathe. I also, as the fog cleared, realized the voice screaming at me belonged to Tabby. What the hell was she screaming about, I wondered apathetically, did she think I did this on purpose?
I rolled to one side and coughed out a huge stream of water. Seems I wasn't quite as successful at keeping the lake out of me as I'd thought. I turned and flopped weakly on my back again and addressed Tabby without opening my eyes.
"What are you yelling at me for?" I asked, still sounding like Clarence Frogman.
"You idiot," she said thickly, "I thought you were dying! I thought I was losing you."
I realized she was crying. I had never, ever seen her cry. Even when we were having that stupid tree climbing competition last year and she'd fallen and broken her ankle, she hadn't cried. Instead she screamed
blue murder at me for getting her involved in that mess.
Seeing her tears for the first time did more to shock me back into a semblance of awareness than the influx of oxygen into my starved tissues. Painfully I rolled into a sitting position and pulled her to me, the first time I'd ever actually initiated any kind of physical contact between us.
She clung to me and sobbed, and even though I hadn't really done anything on purpose I felt like a heel. This strong girl was crying because of me. I glanced over her head and saw Mr. Langston looking very surprised, then he nodded at me, before mouthing: "Take care of her, I'm glad you're okay." He smiled, and started swimming back to the shore, where Mrs. Langston was wringing her hands and looking worried. He said something to her and she flashed me a smile of her own and they went back to their blanket.
"Idiot … stupid … jerk," Tabby was mumbling into my bare chest, still crying. I stroked her hair, now thoroughly nonplussed. I had no idea what to do with a crying girl, and I guess no man really does, even if he lives to be a hundred.
Finally she sniffled and looked up, her face red, those big brown eyes puffy and snot under her nose. "Don't ever do that again, you hear?"
"Hey, it wasn't my fault," I protested, now feeling a little irritated. "I didn't try to drown on purpose."
"Yeah but you didn't have to stick your foot in a torn up fish net either, dumby."
"I didn't know it was there," I said, throwing my hands in the air. "I didn't scour the damn lake bottom and think to myself, Hey, I better make sure all the freaking fish nets are out of here so I don't irritate Tabbitha Langston.'"
"Well you should have," she smirked, now seemingly completely over her crying fit. "I can't go rescuing you all the time, Bobby."
All the levity went out of the conversation then. For a moment all the yelling and screaming kids, the rock and roll from the truck, the hollering of various adults, all of whom were oblivious to the little drama I had been a part of - all of it disappeared. For a little while it was just the two of us on that little floating platform in the middle of Vancouver Lake. I felt the dim stirrings of my hormones, only rolling over in their sleep, but present nonetheless. Had we been three or four years older, we would've made love right there on the platform. I was just so glad to be alive, and it was thanks to this girl.
"Thanks, Tabby. For getting involved way back then, and for just now," I said, not really sure how to express everything I was feeling at that moment.
Tabby, bless her little heart, understood. "You never had to thank me, you silly boy," she said, giving me the most gentle, tender smile I'd ever seen on her. Her right hand came up and stroked my face. "Do you know why I stepped in even way back then? Do you know why I wanted you around and why I am never far away?"
"No idea," I said.
"Bobby, when I looked up at you that first time, back when we were six years old, I felt something. You were standing there, all scared and looking like you wanted to run and hide because this was a new place for you and old Frankie Shepard was giving you a hard time. When I saw you, I just knew that someday we were going to get married. Sounds totally stupid, I know, but that's what happened. Every little girl dreams about finding their prince charming, but I didn't have to hunt for years to find him. So no way are you going to drown, on my watch, understand?"
"Uh, okay," I said, not really knowing how to reply to that.
"I know you have no idea what I'm talking about," she said, still smiling. "But I'm here whenever you realize we're meant for each other, Bobby. Take your time; we have lots of it."
"Tabby," I croaked, suddenly thirsty despite nearly having drowned, "we're still only twelve years old. It's way too early to be talking about marriage and stuff."
"Maybe for you," she replied, looking utterly sure of herself. "But I know I'm right and soon you will realize it too."
"Let's go back to the bank," I said, feeling very, very tired. "I'm thirsty and I'm hungry and my chest hurts and I just want to lay down."
She rubbed my back comfortingly. "Let me help you swim back. You look beat."
We got back in the water and I was very carefully watching everywhere I went. Each breath hurt my ribs and as a result I couldn't go very fast.
"Are you all right, Bobby?" Mr. Langston asked, once we came back to shore. "You scared the daylights out of me when I saw you go under."
"Yeah, Mr. Langston. Just a bit sore and tired," I replied, starting to help with picking up our little campsite. "I can't believe I was dumb enough to get caught in a fish net."
"Don't beat yourself up over it, Bobby," Mrs. Langston soothed. "Just take it as a lesson in watching your surroundings and be more careful next time."
"I will, Ma'am."
"And if he doesn't, I will," Tabby put in, giving me one of her megawatt smiles.
"No doubt, Kitten," Mr. Langston said, ruffling Tabby's wet mop. "Now let's get back home, it's finally starting to cool down and I think we ought to have a barbecue."
* * *
Later that night, after our little barbecue and the evening milking, I was sitting in my room idly playing air guitar and trying to wrap my head around what Tabby had told me out in the lake. She couldn't be serious. How in the hell could she think we were going to get married? I was practically family now, wouldn't that be like incest? I knew she was special to me, but that special? Could I see us together ten years down the line?
Man, I could barely think six months ahead, never mind ten years. When you're twelve years old your universe doesn't extend much beyond the next week. She had thrown me for a loop and I just didn't know what the hell to do about it.
The next morning I was up before Tabby could come in and wake me. I went down to the barn and said hi to some of the cows and got involved with Pete Berger, one of the farmhands, in doing the morning milking. There was a light mist hanging over the fields; the previous day's horrible heat having broken. According to the radio playing softly in the barn the high was supposed to be seventy with possible rain showers in the afternoon. That was typical for this area.
I found ways to be away from Tabby all morning. I just didn't know what to say to her and I felt awkward. School would be starting in two days and I knew that I couldn't avoid her forever, but what the hell do you say to a girl who calmly announces she's going to marry you some day?
Ever since she had stepped in and diverted Frank's attention that day on the school steps, I knew there was something about her. At that time, boys and girls didn't mingle. Boys had the baseball field and the marble collections and stuff like that, and girls had their dumb ass dolls and playing house and all that happy crappy. "Never the twain shall meet" was the philosophy. Girls were a necessary evil, or an exotic species, something to observe and wonder about or occasionally chase, but never ever to get involved with.
Of course, I didn't have any buddies to hang around with back then, nobody to argue over baseball or trade marbles with or play cowboys an Indians. Perhaps that's why I let her so easily into my life, because I just didn't know better. My parents had died and I had spent most of the previous three years in my aunt and uncle's house with very little socializing, and so I didn't know how things were supposed to be between boys and girls.
I don't want to make it sound like Tabby was a cold, ruthless bitch who swooped in and scooped up the vulnerable kid and brainwashed him. Far from it. Hell, she was only six years old too. It was just that since I didn't know I should stay away from girls, I didn't. By the time I realized how things were supposed to be, it was too late; Tabby was already part of my life and I didn't want her not to be. I was living in her house, eating her family's food and it wasn't so bad. She was Tabby my friend who happened to be a girl.
Plus, there was the fact that Tabby wasn't like other girls. If I suggested we go fishing, she'd roll up her jeans and crawl in the dirt with me to get night crawlers and bait her own hook the next morning. And she'd help me clean the fish too. If I wanted to throw a ball around she'd get right out there wit
h me and do it, and more often than not throw farther and faster than me.
Last year when I, kind of bored one summer day, suggested that we have a tree climbing competition to see who could climb the two oak trees in the back yard the fastest, she got right up there with me, and broke her ankle, for which she rightfully blamed me. The branch she was standing on was rotten and she was lucky that a broken ankle was all that happened to her.
Mr. Langston didn't yell at me, spank me or ground me. He gave me this look of deep disappointment which made me feel so low I could've walked under a snake's belly with room to spare. That night after she got home from the hospital I went into my room and cried like a baby because she was hurt as a result of my stupid actions. And the bitch of it was, she tried to comfort me.
I couldn't believe it when she apologized the next day for all the nasty things she hollered at me while she lay on the ground, white as a sheet and her ankle swollen up like an innertube. I, of course, told her it was my fault and I apologized for getting her in that situation in the first place.
I took care of her while she couldn't walk and did all her household chores. I helped her with her homework and I walked her to classes when school started up again, holding doors for her until she could finally get off the crutches. I made a promise to myself that never again would I do something so stupid that would result in giving her that kind of pain.
Then I nearly drown and she tells me that she wants to marry me someday? Here I was, adjusted to being this super special best friend to someone who just happened to be a girl, and she goes and throws my whole world out of whack with something this off the wall. What the hell was I supposed to do? I then remembered the way she had been starting to glare at other girls who tried talking to me, and the way she smiled at me, like I was the most important thing in her world. Now I was kicking myself for missing the signs, but in my defense, I didn't know I was supposed to be watching for them.
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