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Letting him get a handle of his emotions, I took my time getting comfortable on my ottoman and then pretending to tune my guitar even though I knew it was perfect. Calvin put the case on the floor carefully, letting it rest at his feet. Then he grabbed the guitar I gave him and let it rest on his lap.
Once I knew he got himself back under control, I looked up. “Now, before you can actually create music, you need to know what each string represents. You’d be amazed how much of my work is about translating songs to paper from people who created a song without knowing how to write music. I refuse to let you be such a person.”
Calvin’s grin was absolutely adorable as he listened, carefully touching the guitar, his fingers trailing along the cords. For the next fifteen minutes, we went over the different sounds a guitar created, and where on the string each sound was from.
The sweet boy was a natural and picked up on the chords easily. We transitioned quickly into actual songs.
“Listen to this,” I said with a grin and played a song, singing the lyrics.
When I finished, Calvin was wide-eyed, his eyes twinkling as he clapped and jumped in his seat. I chuckled and winked at him.
“Now, it’s your turn.”
His eyes widened, and he frantically shook his head. “No way can I do that!”
I tapped the side of his forehead, remembering something my dad used to tell me. “The only reason you can’t do it is because you think you can’t.” It felt weird to say something my dad used to always say to me when I got too frustrated with complicated songs. But it was fitting and I practically watched Calvin absorb those words and pick the meaning apart. “You can do it. This is a beginner’s song, really simple on a guitar. You only need to know four chords. Here, let me show you.”
I pulled out the sheet music and went through the chords slowly, strumming it and waiting for him to copy me. I taught him how to effectively do the intro, hitting the G, D, C, and Am chords on the strings of his guitar, working to make sure his hand and finger placements were perfect. When we went over the entire intro, we played it straight through a few times.
Calvin practically blossomed as he repeated the intro again, getting better each time. I stopped to listen to him and smiled, proud of what he was doing. When he stopped and looked up at me, I grinned big and leaned toward him.
“Guess what?” I whispered in a dramatic fashion.
“What?” he whispered back, following along.
“You just played the intro to Bob Dylan’sKnockin’ On Heaven’s Door.”
His mouth fell open. “I did, didn’t I?” His grin came off as goofy.
I laughed. “You really did. This song, while written in 1973, is one of the best songs out there. A true classic. Also, one of the best songs for beginners to learn without having to resort to teaching them boring songs likeTwinkle Twinkle Little Staror something like that. No one is impressed withTwinkle Twinkle Little Star, but they will be impressed with this song.”
“Thank you, Cadie.”
My heart got all hot and bubbly as he called me by the same nickname that my good friend, Micah, used. I couldn’t stop the huge warmth that seemed to spread through me.
In a soft voice, I said, “You’re welcome, Cal. Now, to teach the rest of the song to you. I want you to follow along on the sheet.”
I smoothed out the music sheet and hummed the words as I played through. Calvin paid attention, frowning as he stared down at the sheet. By the time I finished, I realized something was off by him. The happiness that used to be there was no longer there.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, wanting to take that frown from him. He was too sweet to be lost in whatever deep thoughts took over his mind.
“This song is about him talking to his mama?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s actually about a deputy sheriff talking to his wife. He called her Mama though. He was shot and dying, and his badge and gun would be useless because he was going to Heaven. It’s from a movie.” I chuckled. “Dark, I know. Why do you ask?”
“Made me think of mamas.” He looked up at me with a new determination in his eyes. He was in little Calvin serious mode, and I could see why Paxon called him Mini-me. It was adorable and a little heart wrenching to see such a serious look on a young boy’s face. “Cadie, what is it like to have a mama?”
I blinked at his question, needing a moment to mull his question over. It should have been an innocent question, one I should have had an answer to. By looking at him waiting for an answer, I knew I couldn’t bullshit him. He wanted a serious answer, and I wasn’t so sure I had the right one. Lindie was not how a mother should have been, and I couldn’t lie to him about this. He wanted the truth.
“I don’t know,” I finally said, watching his expression.
His brows furrowed. “But—”
“Lindie may have birthed me, but she is not a mother. She’s a high society woman first, and my manager second. Not a mother. I’m sorry I don’t have the answer you want, Cal.”
His eyes filled with tears. He dipped his head down to try to hide them as his hands curled on top of the guitar into small fists. They were shaking. “Paxon said our mother wasn’t our mother either. That the only thing she did for us was birth us.”
Aw, my heart was cracking now. I looked around the room, trying to blink away the tears and emotions that weighed heavily on my chest.
