That Summer

That Summer
© Edmund Gee
March 2012

I remember that summer, my tenth summer. Fifth grade loomed only months away and for me and that would be a big deal.
You just cannot say that being in love is for older people, because I was in love with Judy McFarland. She was the prettiest girl I had ever laid my eyes upon.

I fantasized about the dark haired angel who sat just five seats in front of me and one row over. When the teacher, Mrs. Beatrice Nolan, droned on in her monotone voice explaining a difficult math problem, my tired brain would shut down. It would direct my sleepy eyes to Judy who sat alert and learning and raising her hand, answering questions.

When her right hand shot up in jubilation, I would wonder how she owned such a pretty hand which sported a little pink ring on its ring finger. And never mind how I tried ignoring the math class!

“How can she pay such rapt attention for math?” I would ask myself.

Perhaps I was jealous that she was a good student, and that is why I loved her because I was not so smart.
On the school bus in the morning and in the afternoon, my eyes would steal peeks on her. Judy smiled and talked. She even talked about the forbidden things on the school bus, such as homework.

Always Judy would sit pertly up front, just behind the folding door. A blast of wind would gush into Judy’s face. Her brown hair would fly back when old, sour Mr. Carnegie pulled the black handle to operate the door. She knew everyone on the bus and where they lived. And I was included in her mental list of everyone.

When grim, old Mr. Carnegie pulled up to a house, or designated bus stop, and pull the lever to open the door, Judy would turn around in her seat and smile, her shiny, brown eyes sparkling at the kid or kids as they filed off the bus, backpacks bumping against the backs of the seats.
I liked sitting on the left side of the bus and directly over the wheel wells that humped up and rounded over. Upon the metal mound I would plant my feet. Somehow I felt secure sitting there in that part of the bus.

My stop was one stop before Judy’s home. Judy would turn to me, like she did with all of the other kids. She would turn around and watch me walk down the aisle, step down the stairs and walk to my front door. When I turned around, there she was, looking at me, smiling.

But I felt an attachment to Judy; an mysterious tug.

On the school bus, the days turned from winter cold to the dazzling green of spring. How I wanted to say something to Judy: hello, have a nice evening, or a cheery, enjoy your weekend. Anything. But I was way too shy to say anything.

Most of the time, anyway, one of the other girls would sit next to her and they would talk nearly non-stop. And yet, if she didn’t visually say good bye to me when I stepped off the bus, she always looked at me with a facial expression that imparted, “Good bye. I’ll see you tomorrow,” as I stepped off the bus.

But I was too shy a kid. Glance, yes. Speak, no.

The last bus ride to home of the school year finally arrived. Everyone was elated. The tone of the cacophony of voices was euphoric. Even dower, old Mr. Carnegie was happy. There was a party atmosphere that warm afternoon. I stepped up the stairs of the bus and didn’t see Judy sitting in her normal place, nor was she on the bus. Looking back through the doorway I spotted her, walking with one of her friends. And that’s when I darted to the front outside seat opposite of Judy’s favorite seat.

Wearing a daffodil yellow dress, Judy seemed to float above the steps and into the bus. Glowing like an angel of light, her arrival lit up the front of the bus. Her very presence caused the darkness to scramble away.

I was mesmerized at Judy’s appearance. And at very moment she slid into “her” seat I breathlessly blurted aloud, “Oh, Judy! I’ll miss seeing you every day.”

In slow motion, Judy settled herself. Even the swirling dust slowed. She adjusted her dress, straightening this and fluffing that, all while she looked directly at me.

And then she spoke. This heavenly girl, this saintly girl, this divine girl I had created in my ten-year old mind spoke to a mere commoner.

“Why, Eddie. You’re so nice. You know, I’ll miss you too.” She said. Her words and voice sounded as if from a holy angel.

If she had not continued, I think I would have just agreed and melted into the seat.

“So are you going to take swimming lessons at Digger’s Pool?” Judy asked through the commotion of other kids scuffling onto the waiting bus. Her words transcended above chatter. 

Still stunned that Judy, a beautiful celestial being, would come down to a mortal such as I, my answer was to nod my head in agreement.
Blinking her big, brown eyes, Judy said, “Then I’ll see you next Wednesday?”

“Yes. I can hardly wait.” I replied, hoping I would not sound too excited or frightened.

She tried asking another question. “Would you…”

But another girl arrived, flinging herself while talking loudly and talking rapidly. She took up the portion of seat next to Judy.  Judy’s head moved to one side to finish her question, but the other girl turned to Judy and with rapid fire words poured from between her lips, silencing Judy.

Sadly, when I got off the bus, Judy was fully engaged listening to the other girl. The other girl would not allow Judy’s eyes to follow me off the bus.

That next Wednesday morning arrived. I was excited. I would finally learn to swim and I would see Judy. A bunch of scrawny looking kids lined up at Digger’s Pool that morning, and I looked for Judy. Matronly women sorted us out like a deck of cards. After the teams had been selected I realized that Judy was not at the pool.

One of the women shouted, “Everyone! Quiet please.” And there was silence as the eager voices of kids died out. She looked around at the crowd of kids.

“As most of you may know by now, Judy McFarland will not be attending the swimming lessons.”

My ears perked up. Judy would not be attending. Why? Then I spoke up. “Why? Why won’t Judy be here?”

The woman looked in my direction. “She… her parents… drowned when their boat turned over this weekend.”

Instantly I felt pain and sadness. A bright light in my soul flickered to a dim pile of smoking embers. The only, well first girl, I had ever felt I loved had passed away.  Judy drowned because she could not swim. They all drowned because no one wore floatation devices. A stinging pain stabbed at my heart. It laughed and teased my young soul. I stood, wavering, light-headed with my swim team. My knees became wobbly.

I broke ranks with my new swim team. The memory of Judy, caused an empty aching in my heart. My eyes filled with painful tears. Sobbing, tears clouded my eyes. I found my way to the pool’s chain link fence. My sad body sat down, my back against the fence and my head leaning over my knees, my arms hugging my legs. Large tears pelted the warm cement. Crying, crying.

The question she wanted to ask. What was it? Over and over, a thousand times, throughout all these years I have wondered what would have followed those two words, “Would you…” Would you… what?


WORD COUNT: 1,320