Open Fields of Ohio

3 ••• Another Guitar?

"Dawn," I breathed when I saw er by my door. What was she doing here? I didn't know, but, I didn't care either: this girl was becoming part of my days—even when she wasn't here. She gave a forced, weak and small smile, but her frown remained. "How are you?"

"Standing up,"

"Very funny," I laughed. "But seriously, how have you been?" She shrugged.

"Shouldn't matter, really. Can I come in?" I was silent.

"Umm," I looked around and back at her. "I was actually off to work, maybe you ...?"

"I'll come back when I can," she said, as if trying to be nice, but the dissapointment was clear in her body language. "Then. See you, eh, later?" I shook my head with a smile.

"I was going to suggest you come with me, you know; milk em' cows and pick up the chick's eggs?" She smiled truly then. I realized she just wanted company. To keep her mind off of whatever happened to her? "You're dressed fine, so we can head out now." She looked down at her jeans, beat up boots, and a shirt that said 'To Hell With You' covered by a jacket.

She shrugged and mumbled something like 'you're the bull-man' and we left. I pointed out several places, the cow's station, where I would milk them, horse's stall, chiken's barn, and my own garden. She marveled at it with some sort of detachment and wanting that I couldn't ignore.

She seemed so peaceful somehow, I couldn't picture her breaking does guitars a few days ago anymore. She was new to me now. "These are peppers, thise are tomatoes, of course, the chily plants aren't here yet, but I also have corn bythe end of the row." I said with a smile.

"This is pretty nice, actually." She said, bending forward to smell mint leaves, she took one and held it to her nose with a natural smile.

"Is it?" I said. "Ithink a boy would impress the gurl by howing her his trophies, not his vegetables." She laughed once with a shrug, and kept sniffing on the mint. "C'mon, I wanna show you the grape fields."

"You have a grape field?" She asked, lips against the leaf.

"Sure, I love grapes,"

"Me, too. My dad used to—" she cut off again. I looked behind my shoulder to see her glaring at the ground. "You know what? My dad left me with my mom. He left, okay? That's why I banged those guitars the other days. When he said he was leaving, I didn't believe him: becase he likes to joke.

But I woke up with a huge breakfast, after I ate: I went to check on him by his studio. And guess what I found?"

"...He was gone." I said, taking her words in. I wanted to ask if er dad was dead, but I didn't for two reasons. 1. If he was, she would break down again an probably slam me on the ground until I broke apart 2. if he wasn't she would be mad at me. I didn't want her mad anymore. Not with me, at least.

"Yeah, and the worst part is ... I actually don't know. Maybe it could be the fact that he left without me, or that maybe he took my Electric with him. That was my first guitar, and it was gone along with him." After a moment, I waited for her to calm down, she sighed and looked up at the sky.

"Can we go to your grape field now?" She asked, like she was forcing herself to ask, and be asked: being polite and normal.

I don't think she had those words in her dictionary.

"I used to walk through these grape walls when I was, maybe ten, and try to hide from my sister. She liked to play hide and seek? So, this one day, when I was sixteen—last year—I'm here with this girl, and we are about to kiss. So, what my sister does is, she takes all the chickens from the barn and lets them loose in the grape field.