The rusting dilapidated yellow school bus pulls away from the side of the dirt road and heads toward the cemetery where the driver works his second job as an undertaker. It leaves behind a cloud of dust and debris and a forlorn looking girl. She is dressed in a plain brown dress accompanied by a pair of black flats and a grey knitted hat. She makes her way down winding country roads, heading toward the rustic red farm house barely visible in the distance. The house is hidden by a field of golden stalks of wheat and stands just before the entrance to the woods. The girl lives here with her great aunt Elma. She moved in only weeks before after her mother’s admittance into St. Dymhpna. Her mother, Nina, for whom she is named, suffers from acute schizophrenia. Her ailment drove away her husband early into the marriage when the onset occurred. Nina reaches the porch of the house, avoiding the loose planks of wood that are no longer nailed down. Her aunt will not hear her come in; she is busy digging up the annuals in her garden before the first frost of the season. Nina pours herself a glass of tea in the kitchen and joins her aunt outside. They both are comfortable with silence and only speak when silence cannot speak for them. “My friend Beth dropped by today, you know, the librarian at the high school.” Nina nods “She dropped off your school books.” She sees the look on Nina’s face “you hadn’t forgotten had you?” “no.” Nina stares off in the direction of the setting sun, the light hits the faces of the two women erasing all visible imperfections. “How was your visit to the library today?” The aunt attempts to make small talk. “They banned most every book worth reading.” Nina comments. Elma sighs “You can’t make people see sense if they don’t want to see it.” Silence engulfs the two once more. “I invited Carol and her son Mason to dinner tonight.” Mentions Elma. “Who?” “Her mother was my best friend before she passed last year; we knew each other from church.” She could see that her great niece had lost interest. “I thought I’d be good for you to meet a friend your own age.” “You are going back to school tomorrow and it never hurts to see a familiar face.” “You’re a retired teacher.” Commented Nina, “you could homeschool me.” Elma lets out a low chuckle and kisses the top of her hair. “And take away that experience from you?” She wipes the excess dirt onto her worn jeans and beacons Nina to follow her inside.
There is a knock on the door at exactly 6 o’clock. Nina volunteers to stay in the kitchen and stir the pot of stew while Elma entertains their guests. Nina is dressed in an elegant skirt and blouse. Her hair is tied back and adorned with a ribbon. Her aunt had laid this combination out for Nina on her bed previous to her arriving home. She herself had worn the clothes when she was much younger and had set them aside for her children to wear. Nina eventually enters the dining area carrying the still steaming pot of stew and sets it on the table. She does not make eye contact with Carol and her son until she herself is seated at the table. Carol is a frail woman who cannot help looking nervous despite her complacent exterior. Mason exudes assurance in an unintimidating way. He smiles at Nina from across the table before turning back to Elma. “I play football.” He responds in answer to Elma’s previous question. He studies the walls that make up the room; on them is an assortment of some of Nina’s many watercolors and an antique coo-coo clock. “Did you paint those?” he asks suddenly turning to Elma, drawing the attention of the two older women up toward the paintings. “Heavens no.” answers Elma “I could never; Nina here painted them all.” He looks impressed “Do you enjoy painting?” he asks her “yes.” She smiles “But I prefer writing.” “oh, that reminds me!” chimes in Elma turning to Carol, “Beth stopped over today, and she mentioned that the school district is no longer funding the art program.” “Oh how awful.” Carol is not greatly disturbed by this news, but Nina is.
After dinner Elma takes Carol into the sitting area to gossip further about the goings on in town leaving Mason and Nina alone in the dining area. Mason ventures a question toward Nina who is lost in thought. “Do you play any sports?” It takes her a moment to respond “oh, no.” the room lapses into silence once more. “Do you know what subjects you are enrolled in?” “No,” He gazes behind her watching the curtain covering the open window waltz in the evening breeze, the white a stark contrast to the dark night sky. He listens to the sounds of night closing his eyes to drown out the light. He feels Nina’s hand grasp his upper arm. He looks up at her through his long lashes. She puts a finger to her lips and leads him through the kitchen, where she seizes an empty glass jar from the window sill, and out the back door. She sets the jar down on the porch railing and whispers so only he can hear. “My mother taught me how to catch crickets here growing up.” Nina lets out a sound similar to the song of the crickets. The field erupts with sound. Mason watches her. She has caught him off guard. He then lifts the jar from the peeling ledge and crouches low to the ground. He uses his hand to coax a tiny cricket into the jar and quickly covers it with his hand. Without exchanging a word they step back inside the kitchen.