Different Circles

“That was just ... just beautiful, Jake,” Mary said, a tear running down her cheek once he finished it up.

“I agree,” said Tom, wiping his eye and pretending it was just an allergy thing. “That is probably the best tune you have ever written.”

“It’s Caydee’s tune,” he told him. “The one she would keep cadence with when she was in Laura’s womb. And she still always loves to hear it. Did you see how she just laid there and smiled while I was playing it?”

“Yes,” Mary said. “As soon as you started, she stopped drinking her bottle and looked over at you.”

“That’s amazing,” Tom said.

“Isn’t it?” Jake asked. “You want to see some more amazing Caydee stuff?”

“Of course,” Tom said.

“Watch this,” Jake said. He began to strum out the melody for Nights in White Satin, another one of Caydee’s favorites (and one that the grandparental Kingsleys had listened to while stoned many a time). She heard the melody and clearly became excited by it. Her eyes lit up and her smile got bigger. And then Jake began to sing the lyrics. When he got to the chorus and the repetitive, drawn out, I love you’s, Caydee began to coo along with him. She could not form the actual words as the intricacies of actual speech were still months in her future, but she was imitating the length and breaks between syllables almost perfectly.

The grandparents looked at this in awe. Tom, Mary, and Cindy all realized the musical ramifications of what they were seeing. “She’s cooing that in key!” Mary exclaimed. “Well ... almost in key anyway. You’re singing in E-minor, Jake and she’s damn near following along.”

“And she’s definitely keeping in time,” added Tom.

“Well, it helps that I’m singing with her,” Jake said, pausing the tune so he could take part in the discussion. Caydee immediately began to fuss and squirm when the music stopped. She began to coo out the syllables again, this time with an insistent, demanding tone. Her communication was quite clear. Play the fuckin’ song some more, Dad!

Jake began to play and sing again and she settled down immediately. She cooed out the chorus syllables right on time and mostly in key. When he finished up, she started to fuss again, but he had learned he could keep her calm by simply continuing to strum the guitar. It did not matter what he strummed—it could be anything from Old Macdonald Had a Farm to War Pigs—as long as he was playing some kind of organized melody, she would remain copacetic.

“Does she do that with any other song?” asked Mary.

“Not to that extent,” Jake said, continuing to absently strum while he talked. He was currently playing out the melody to Highway Star by Deep Purple, the acoustic version that was considerably slower in tempo than the radio version. “She does it a little bit on a few other pieces like Stairway to Heaven, Behind Blue Eyes, and Going to California, but it’s hit or miss and not with the same enthusiasm.”

“She likes to hear the ‘I love you’s’,” Laura said with a smile.

“You know, you used to do the same thing, Jake,” Tom said.

“Really?” he asked.

“It’s true,” Mary said. “When we would play music for you when you were a baby, you would always try to sing along, even before you could talk. That’s when we started to realize that you were going to be a singer.”

“That’s why we had you doing voice lessons while you were still in grammar school,” Tom added. “I think maybe little Caydee here is going to have herself a pretty good voice.”

“She already does,” said Celia, who was looking warmly at the little center of attention in her grandmother’s arms.

Jake was about to say something else, but the phone started to ring. Tom and Mary looked at each other expectantly, their non-verbal communication quite clear. Both were asking “are you going to get that?”.

Tom lost the battle. With a sigh, he stood up and walked across the room to the cordless handset sitting in its charging base. He picked it up. “Hello?” He listened for a moment. “Hey, Paulie, how are you doing?” Another pause. “Yes, he’s right here. He was just showing us how Caydee likes to sing along with him to Nights in White Satin.” A chuckle. “Yes, it is pretty amazing. Anyway, I’ll get him for you.” He turned to his son. “It’s for you, Jake. It’s Pauline.”

Jake wondered what was going on now. Pauline was not in the habit of calling him just to shoot the shit, particularly when he was out of town on a holiday weekend. He stood up. Caydee immediately began to fuss again. He handed the guitar to Celia. “Here,” he said. “Play something for her.”

“Right,” she said, taking the instrument from him. She immediately began to strum out the melody for Dreams, by the Cranberries. Caydee quieted back down in an instant.