GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) by Tiana Laveen Page B

roughly into a tissue then began once more. “Zen had loved music since he was a tiny baby. He was fussy as an infant. I believe it’s called colic. The only thing that would settle him down was music. One evening, his parents had to go out without him, so Osha and I watched our grandson. He’d become fussy again. Osha would hold him close, hold him tight.” He smiled, pretending to rock a baby in his arms. “But it did no good. Zen had some lungs on him. He only grew louder, more impatient. I had an idea. I took the baby from my wife, and I walked into our spare bedroom. In that bedroom was a drum set covered with boxes and this and that.” He waved nonchalantly. “I hadn’t played them in years.
    “I sat him down, cleared it all off, and then brought him close to me. In one arm, I held the stick and softly hit the drum; in the other, I cradled him. Silver,” he said, looking at her with sorrow in his eyes. “It was like… a light switch! He watched me so intensely. I stopped drumming, and he began crying again. I started drumming, he stopped instantaneously!” He snapped his finger. “That worked. I found it interesting but thought no more of it. That was until his father told me, several years later, that he’d taken Zen into a music store and the boy touched the guitars, the pianos, but then saw the drums and made himself at home.
    “He climbed his tiny little body onto that seat, Silver, grabbed those sticks, and began to bang and bang and bang. Degan was shocked! He said, ‘Father, this wasn’t normal.’ He said, ‘Zenith was making real songs, real music… It sounded good, like he knew what he was doing!’ A crowd had gathered around, store employees and other customers, and they all clapped when he was finished. My son said to me, ‘Father, you should’ve seen his face when they clapped. He lit up. I’ve never seen him smile so big. Can you teach him?’ I agreed to do so, but I had no idea what was truly going on. You see, Silver, you have to see something like that in person to believe it…
    “I brought him into that spare room once again. This time, he no longer fit in my arms, but he climbed up on the chair. I handed him the sticks and said, ‘Play.’ He hesitated for a second. Sometimes Zen was a bit shy as a boy, but that shyness disappeared once he started playing. I stood there in complete shock. I called Osha in… she screamed. You see, she thought it was me playing, not him. That’s how good he sounded. I don’t know how he got that way. Degan and Osha said it was from me. I’d like to think so. But, he was so good… so good, Silver. So, from that point, I taught him everything I knew and he took it from there.
    “He’s won many awards. He played for the council several times. He knows how to play our ceremonial drums, and traditional ones, too. This got him a lot of attention. Zen became popular, but didn’t seem to care. All he wanted to do was practice his drums. He was a pretty good student, too… Education was important, though. I told him early on, if his grades slipped, no drums. He kept them up, all As and an occasional B here and there. Nothing kept his interest as much as music, but girls became a close second.”
    Silver burst out laughing, and the old man followed suit.
    “You know, Zen accused me of changing, and I’ve thought about that. Some days, Silver, I look at him and think he’s Degan. He corrects me, and I see that it hurts him, but he tries to play it off. Zen doesn’t like to really show anything but humor and anger… His father was that way.” He hesitated, as if needing a moment. “But Zen hurts very badly, and he became confused after his parents’ passing. He’d had a good life, and then, there he was living with Osha and me. Osha was ill, but we told no one. She had heart disease.” He took another sip of his water. “I decided to not tell Zen about what happened to his parents. Osha and I believed he was too young to hear those