“She told me she was going to teach me ‘Fire and Rain’ next.”
“James Taylor,” I said. “Those are some pretty righteous chords.”
All three pairs of eyes turned toward me.
The boy nodded and then puffed with pride. “Yeah. But I’m ready for it.”
Tristan slowly drew her eyes from me and back to the boy. “I’m sorry,” she said, and you could tell that every part of her being ached to make it right. Or maybe she just ached to have her grandmother back. The throbbing sorrow in the room was too much for me. Not when I could ease it even the slightest.
“I can do it,” I said spontaneously.
“What?” Tristan breathed out.
“I can teach him the song.” I nodded. I stuck my hand out to the boy. “I’m Brady, by the way.”
The mom’s mouth dropped open. “Wait. You’re Brady O’Neil!”
I smiled at her and winked. “Every time I look in the mirror, it surprises me too.”
She flushed.
The boy stuck his hand out and shook mine. “I’m Sheldon.”
“Nice to meet you. You go up, get unpacked, and start warming up. I’ll be right there.”
Sheldon didn’t even stop to see if the two women agreed with me. He shot past Tristan, making the rickety steps bounce as he ran.
“Brady, I?”
“I want to,” I said, cutting Tristan off. “Please, let me.”
“I can’t pay you.” She was shaking her head.
“I’ll pay him. The normal rate,” the mother said, digging into her purse.
“I don’t want anyone’s money,” I said to both of them but then turned to Sheldon’s mom. “But if you could pay Tristan the normal rate to cover the cost of the space, that would be great.”
“Brady!” Tristan stood up.
“Deal.”
The mom pulled her wallet out, and I eased my way past her as the sounds of a guitar being plucked carried their way toward me.
“We’re not done talking about this,” Tristan called up after me.
I just waved and went into the practice room where the young boy was already doing scales. I listened, corrected, and then watched some more before we dove into the sheet music he already had for the classic James Taylor song.
Forty-five minutes later, we’d worked our way through it a couple of times, and I’d been able to correct his hand positions and the force of his fingers on the strings. I wasn’t a natural teacher, and it wasn’t something I thought I’d ever be good at if required to do it for a living, but it worked in a pinch.
When Sheldon’s mom reappeared at the practice room doorway, he packed up, thanked me shyly, and then left. She beamed at me. “I don’t know how to say thank you enough.”
“If you could do me a favor, and not tell the entire world about it, that would be thank you enough.”
She looked surprised. “Oh. Sure. Of course.”
I wondered if it was already all over her social media that her son was being taught a lesson by Brady O’Neil. I hoped it wasn’t. I didn’t want that kind of attention. Not while I was here for Cassidy and Chevelle. Not while I was here trying to fix things for Elana and Tristan. Although having word spread that I was teaching classes atLa Musica de Ensueñoswould probably bring a crowd to Tristan’s door that would only help with sales, it was also something I couldn’t sustain in the long haul. I wouldn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.
As if my thoughts had conjured her, I heard Tristan’s voice in the old storeroom space that had now been converted into her studio. It was strange to see it filled with art supplies instead of boxes and instruments.
