Our Song Read online

  After we enter, I tell the kids to find the seat where their name is written. I go over our daily routine of the calendar, the pledge, and our counting of how many days we’ve been in school. As the days add up, we’ll count them in fives and tens, helping them with bundling numbers.

  I like teaching kindergarten because we have more freedom with our curriculum than the other grades, and I’m the only teacher who includes music in our free time. Every morning, we’ll work on a song, and at the end of the year, we’ll sing them for the parents.

  Our first one is God Bless America, so I ask the parents to sing with me as we introduce the students to the song for the first time. When we’re finished, I excuse them all, making sure to recognize who’s with which child, as we don’t allow them to leave the school until we see a ride is there, waiting for them.

  * * *

  The weeks fly by as summer turns to fall. My students have gotten the hang of our daily routine, and some are starting to test the limits of how they can act, which is very normal. With comfort comes misbehaving.

  Now is when I have to turn up the sternness while not losing my Cinderella status with the kids. It’s a delicate line of being their friend but also their teacher. They need to respect me and know that when they’re in the classroom, they are to act a certain way.

  I say, “No, thank you,” more times than I ever thought possible to kids as they do things they aren’t supposed to.

  Some kids react and obviously don’t want to get in trouble while some need the constant reminder.

  We’re discussing family trees and the difference between siblings, cousins, grandparents, and more. Each kid was to draw a picture of their family along with their favorite place in their house to give the art piece more depth. Now, each student stands to describe it to the class.

  Timmy shows us a picture of his mom, dad, and sister in their kitchen. I love the way kids this age draw stick figures for people with fingers as straight lines, which take up more than fifty percent of their body size. I have a feeling it’s drawings like this that influenced the movie Edward Scissorhands.

  “Very nice, Timmy. And why did you choose the kitchen for your drawing?” I ask.

  “My mommy cooks really good food. She says I’m in the kitchen too much and I eat a lot because I’m a growing boy.”

  The kids all laugh as he stands up taller to show how big he is.

  “That you are,” I say. “What a wonderful picture. Okay, Cailin, why don’t you go next?”

  Cailin steps to the front of the class where she holds up a picture of only her and who I assume is her dad, though I’ve only ever seen Linda drop her off or pick her up. The two of them are next to an airplane.

  “This is me and my dad,” she says with a huge smile on her face. “He’s on the road a lot, so we fly to some really cool places.”

  “How lucky! You’ve been on a plane before?” Devin, a student, asks.

  I try to put the focus back on Cailin’s picture. “You did a fabulous job, but you were supposed to draw something from your house,” I say, reminding her about what the assignment was.

  Her shoulders sag. “I know, Miss Russo, but I haven’t seen our new home yet. It’s being worked on, and my dad hasn’t been to Linda’s house that much, so I drew my favorite place to be with my dad instead.” Cailin joins the rest of the kids on the carpet after handing me her drawing.

  As a teacher, you have to be very careful with each kid’s family situation, and I must say, a plane is a new one for me. Still, I’m quick to make sure she feels secure. “How fun that you’re getting a new place remodeled. Well then, I think you did a great job in choosing the plane. Thank you, Cailin. Lisa, why don’t you go next?”

  I noticed when I filed her paperwork the first week of school that there was no mom listed on her emergency forms, and this drawing solidifies that there’s not one in the picture. Linda signed all the forms, and in the column where it asked for the relationship to the child, she simply stated, Friend of the family.

  I haven’t seen or heard anything else about Cailin’s dad, and I wonder if he’ll make the father-daughter dance coming up. It’s my favorite event at the school, and I’d hate for Cailin to miss it.

  * * *

  Something I thought was cute at first but is starting to cause issues in class is Cailin’s singing during times when everyone is quiet. When other kids want to know what she’s singing, she starts to explain the song, and the cycle continues. How this little girl knows so many lyrics is beyond me.

  I’ve broken up the kids into groups, and with the help of two parent volunteers, the groups rotate between stations, all working on different projects. This is when I get my one-on-one time with students as I pull them up to see where they are in their reading skills.

  I ask the volunteers not to talk to the students since they’re supposed to be quietly working, but no matter how much I stress this rule, they always engage the kids.

  As Cailin cuts out shapes, she starts to sing, “Somebody once told me the world was macaroni, so I took a bite of the cheese.”

  “What’s the song you’re singing?” I hear Alicia, Brandon’s mom, ask.

  “It’s All Star. It’s from the movie Shrek.”

  Cailin repeats the lyrics, and Alicia laughs.

  “Sweetheart, those aren’t the words to the song.”

  “I know! My daddy and I like to make up silly lyrics. I think that one’s my favorite.”

  “Cailin,” I announce from across the classroom. “Please, no more singing.”

  “Yes, Miss Russo. Sorry,” she responds, turning her head back down and focusing on her project.

  When the last bell rings, I have the kids line up outside the door, waiting to be excused until I see their parents. When I notice Linda, I ask her to step inside briefly.

  After setting Cailin up to play on the carpet, I turn to Linda.

  “Is everything okay with Cailin?” she asks before I can say anything, worry evident in her tone and expression.

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to concern you. I just wanted to mention her singing. I’ve asked her to stop multiple times, but it’s becoming a bit of a problem. I was hoping you could reiterate at home that there’s a time and a place for everything, including singing.”

  I’ve had parents act surprised, like they think there’s no way their children could do what I’m saying, and I’ve had parents look ashamed at their child’s actions, but I’ve never had someone laugh like Linda does.

  She holds up her hand, trying to hide her reaction. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. I know it’s not funny. It’s just …” She pauses, taking in a breath. “She wants to be like her dad; that’s all. It’s pretty cute.”

  “Does he like to sing, too?” I ask, curious why this is funny to her.

  Linda bites her lower lip, obviously thinking about what to say next. “I guess, as her teacher, it’s okay for you to find out early. He’ll be home in a few weeks, and when the news does break, we might need your help, but please, keep this to yourself. I would assume there is some kind of oath to keep the privacy of your students between you and the family, correct?”

  I smile in reassurance. “Of course. I keep everything private. Is there something I should be concerned about?”

  “Oh no, dear. It’s nothing like that. Cailin has spoken very highly of you. I know as soon as he’s back in town, he’ll stop in to meet you, so that’s why I think it’s okay to tell you now.”

  I nod my head, letting her know she can continue even though I’m really not following.

  “Her father is Adam Jacobson.” She stares at me, waiting to see if what she just said means anything to me.

  My eyes narrow in disbelief. “You mean …”

  She inhales as she nods. “Yes, the lead singer of Devil’s Breed.”

  “Um …” My mind goes blank while my heart starts to pound.

  Adam Jacobson is a media gold mine—or nightmare, depending on how you lo
ok at it. As the lead singer of the hottest rock band alive, he’s all over the news for his wild antics during shows, setting things on fire and mosh pits so big that smaller venues can’t hold their concerts anymore.

  I’ve followed them since the start of their career, and never once have I heard about him having a daughter.

  We live in a small Christian town of only seventeen thousand people. Everyone knows everyone, and if someone, God forbid, bounces a check at the local grocery store, it’s town news for weeks.

  How does a mega rock star live here and no one knows about it?

  I look toward my bulletin board where every kid’s name is spelled out, and I notice something. “But her last name is Tyler?” I ask, still a little confused. Then, it clicks—Linda’s last name. “Isn’t your last name—”

  “Jacobson.” She nods. “But he’s not my son.” She wrings her fingers together with a concerned expression gracing her face. “It’s not my story to tell. Adam Jacobson is his stage name. His real name is Adam Tyler. He’s worked really hard to keep her a secret from the media. We knew enrolling her in school would change that, but he wants her to have a normal life, and missing kindergarten wasn’t an option. We haven’t said anything yet because he wanted her to be known as just Cailin and not his daughter for as long as possible. Especially since he’s on tour and not here to help guide her through any media issues. Or, as Adam says, ‘haters,’ when people find out.”

  I slowly nod my head, letting everything sink in. My palms start to sweat as nerves take over, but I try to act unaffected by the news. She might think it’s because of his fame, but there’s so much more to the news she just dropped than she would ever understand.

  After a few breaths, I’m able to speak. “May I ask what your relationship is to Cailin?”

  She smiles fondly while turning toward Cailin. “I’m someone who loves them both dearly.”

  Cailin stacks some blocks on the carpet. I try to see any resemblance to Adam in her, but it’s hard to tell. She’s sweet and innocent, and he’s anything but.

  Her tiny voice starts to sing again, “Whoa, ohhhhhh-oh, it’s still Tuesday. Whoa, ohhhhhh-oh, it’s still Tuesday.”

  I raise my eyebrows to Linda in question, and she laughs out loud.

  “It’s a game they play. Every night when Adam calls, they discuss songs and make up lyrics. She’s singing the song Listen to the Music by The Doobie Brothers—you know, Whoa, ohhhhhh-oh, listen to the—”

  “Music,” I finish, trying to hide my smile.

  “It’s how they connect. She looks forward to every call, and he’s never missed one. Don’t worry though. I’ll talk to her. Thanks for letting me know.”

  She steps toward Cailin, grabbing her bag and pointing her toward the exit.

  Cailin stops and turns back toward me. “Bye, Miss Russo. Have a good day!”

  I wave. “You too, Cailin.”

  Once the door closes, I’m not sure if I should scream or faint from the bomb that was just dropped. After all these years, after everything I’d been through, did that really just happen? Is fate biting me in the ass again?

  I don’t believe in coincidences—not anymore. But how in the world is my life about to collide with his, especially here, in this small-ass, nothing town, so far away from that world I once knew?

  2

  Adam

  “Fifteen minutes until showtime,” my PA hollers as he sticks his head in my dressing room.

  I search for my phone to call my daughter. No matter where I am in the world, my watch keeps the time of home, Northern California, where my heart really is.

  My painted pinkie fingernail comes into view, putting the biggest smile on my face. Mine is black, and Cailin’s is purple. It’s a reminder we constantly have of each other, no matter how far apart we are.

  People think it’s my way of being hard or a drug reference. I’d die to see their faces if they found out it was actually my five-year-old daughter wanting to do my makeup, and that was our compromise. We liked it so much that it’s stayed.

  “Thanks. I’ll be ready,” I say over my shoulder with my feet kicked up on the dresser.

  He nods and then shuts the door, closing out the chaos that is my life. I used to live for this shit. I still love it, but every day I’m away from my daughter, it gets harder and harder.

  I dial Linda’s number.

  “Daddy!” Cailin yells into the phone as my angel comes into view for our FaceTime call.

  Thankfully, she has my eyes, and the freckles that line her nose remind me of baby pictures I’ve seen of myself.

  “Where are you tonight?” she asks.

  Hearing her voice lifts my spirits up to where I’m flying high in the sky.

  “I’m in Texas,” I respond.

  She sets the phone on the counter, so all I see is the ceiling while she starts her search. I can picture her tiny finger circling over the map I gave her, looking for the state. She puts a sticker over every one I visit, so she can keep track of me.

  “Is that spelled T-E-X-A-S?” she yells out, taking her time in telling me every letter.

  “Sure is.” I sit back, closing my eyes to enjoy this moment.

  “That’s the biggest state yet!” she exclaims as she picks the phone back up, so I can see her again.

  God, she’s beautiful.

  “You got that right. We have four shows across the state. Tell me about your day, Sugarplum.” I use the nickname she said I should call if I was around someone who didn’t know who she was. Even though I’m alone, I still use it.

  She thought having nicknames would be fun, and I’m pretty much game for anything she suggests, especially if it means I get secret things to share with just the two of us.

  “Well, Chestnut,” she says excitedly because I remembered, but her tone changes quickly, and she frowns into the phone. “You know my teacher, right?”

  “Yeah, Miss Russo. I thought you liked her. Did something happen?” My heart pangs at the thought of my little girl not having a good day at school.

  “She doesn’t like my singing,” she says all grown-up and matter-of-factly.

  A sharp laugh escapes my lips. “Are you singing when you shouldn’t be?”

  There’s silence over the phone, and I know I’ve hit the issue on the head. Her eyes search the room and then land back on me.

  “You know I love to hear you sing, but you can’t sing whenever you feel like it, especially if she’s trying to keep the class quiet,” I say in my best parental voice.

  She breathes heavily into the phone, and her bottom lip pouts out. “Linda said the same thing.”

  “And you listen to Linda, right? And Daddy too?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she sighs.

  “We’ll have plenty of time to sing when I get back. Only a few more weeks, okay?”

  Her little face turns even sadder, and I sit up in question.

  “What’s that face about?”

  “It’s nothing.” She slumps back in her chair.

  “Cailin, obviously, it’s something. What’s up?”

  “They’re having a father-daughter dance. Linda said it’s while you’re gone.”

  My heart breaks in two. I’d give anything to have that dance with my daughter. Linda has my schedule, and if she says I can’t make it, then I can’t.

  “I’m sorry, Sugarplum. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Next year, I’ll make sure my manager checks with your school before making our schedule, so I can be home for the dance, okay?”

  She nods slowly, trying to put on a brave face, but the way her lip trembles does wonders on my soul. “Okay, Daddy. I know.”

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “One more minute,” I yell back. “I love you, little girl,” I say into the screen.

  “I love you too, Chestnut.” She makes a big kissy face and then wraps her arms around her tiny body like I’m hugging her.

  I do the same before saying good night and hanging up the phone.
Whenever I talk to her, it both lights up my world and rips it apart. I want to be with her, but right now, I have a stadium with thousands of people screaming my band’s name.

  I step into the hallway with chants of, “Devil, Devil, Devil,” seeping through the walls.

  Loud stomps rumble around us, making the lights quake like we’re on the San Andreas Fault. The thunder of cheers echoes around us. It’s absolutely exhilarating.

  Music is my life just as much as Cailin is. Until now, I was able to have both, but I knew it wouldn’t last. Normally, I’d have my own bus with just her and me while the guys traveled in their own bus. This is the first tour she hasn’t come along with me.

  In the past, I hired nannies to keep her happy, safe and, more importantly, out of the media. We never arrived or left with each other, but behind closed doors, the nannies would go back to their rooms, and it’d be just the two of us. I try to be a hands-on dad as much as I possibly can.

  I knew this tour would be hard, but seeing her joy for her class and all she’s learning reminds me that we made the best decision. I couldn’t do it without Linda though. Yet again, she’s come through for me in more ways than one.

  “We’d better get out there. Things are wilder than normal,” Jack, our bassist, says as he slaps my shoulder.

  I nod with a shit-eating grin covering my face.

  Max runs by us, screaming like a madman. He always acts a fool before we go onstage. People working the venue freak out every time, but Jack and I don’t even notice.

  I turn to see if Noah, our drummer, is coming—and I mean, in the physical sense, not the sexual. The man will stick his dick in any woman who has a pulse and is an exhibitionist, so it’s not uncommon to find him fucking some chick before and after the show.

  When he turns the corner with a female draped over his arm, looking a mess, I know he’s had his fix. Every one of us has something that keeps us going. Noah’s is sex, and Max and Jack love the alcohol and drug options while the music is the only fix I need.