"Not a lot," Glenn replied, somewhat surprised at the sudden change in topic. "I practice whenever I have time…or try to practice, anyway. It's hard when you don't know what you're doing."
"Learning any musical instrument takes practice," Allison told him. "Too many people get frustrated and quit because they're not playing solos like Eddie Van Halen after a week." All eyes turned to her so she hastened to explain, "My mom was a music teacher and she gave private lessons, too. Seemed like a lot of the kids were there against their will, just kept coming because their parents paid for a guitar or piano and they didn't want to waste their money."
"Do you play?" Glenn asked.
"A little," Allison shrugged. "Mom kinda forced me at first, said it was 'good' for me, which of course was the instant kibosh as far as I was concerned. But when she brought down some of her old music books from the attic with Beatles songs and stuff like that, instead of classical pieces, I started to enjoy it. I spent more time on the piano, but I learned enough guitar to fake my way through a few songs."
"There have been several studies done over the years," Dale piped up, "that have shown that people who learn to read music and who play a musical instrument tend to do better in school. They pick up foreign languages quicker and mathematical concepts and such."
"I wanted to learn guitar," Carl piped up.
"You wanted that Guitar Hero game for your PlayStation," his father corrected him. "That's not exactly the same thing."
"Could you maybe show me some basics?" Glenn asked Allison.
"Like I said, it takes a long time and a lot of practice…I guess after dinner – and washing dishes – I can show you a few chords or something."
"We used to enjoy Otis playing for us in the evenings," Hershel commented. "It was quite a pleasant way to relax after supper and listen and sometimes even sing along…"
"Didn't your TV work?" Daryl asked with a sidelong glance at Allison which made everyone laugh.
"Well, they say that music hath charms to soothe the savage breast," Dale quoted Shakespeare after the laughter died down. "Maybe Allison can play for all of us later on. We can enjoy some music while Glenn gets a guitar lesson."
"Um, I dunno," Allison felt uncomfortable at the suggestion. She was certain that Daryl wasn't the type to want to stay behind for some sort of hootenanny, and if there was anything she should do after dinner it was probably help with the dishes. She didn't want to be accused of not pitching in and doing her part. She looked at Daryl questioningly, seeking his silent opinion. He merely shrugged and said quietly,"If everyone wants you to, and you want to…." leaving his statement open-ended.
"I don't know if I'm comfortable with us having a happy song-fest when there's a man in chains out in the shed," Andrea interjected. "Have we given any further thought on what we're going to do with Randall?"
"I think that that's not an appropriate subject for the dinner table," Hershel replied. "Besides, we should not feel guilty for going on with our lives and seeking solace whenever we can just because he is a prisoner. He made his choice when he shot at us. He is being treated humanely under the circumstances at the moment, and any decision on his fate can wait until tomorrow. Now, a minute ago I was starting to anticipate a nice evening of music, and I don't care to have my digestion upset any further by unpleasant topics." He wiped his mouth, folded his napkin and stood up.
Dale followed suit. "I'm with Hershel on this; it's important to our mental health as a group to find whatever occasional respite we can. Music can be incredibly therapeutic. As I recall Plato said 'music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything.'"
Hershel started walking toward the living room. He paused and asked Allison "Are you coming?"
"Er, yes, sir," she barely resisted saluting him. Glenn scurried off to fetch his guitar and Patricia, Lori, Carol and Beth began collecting the empty plates from the table. "I'll be there just as soon as I help clear the table…"
"That's OK, honey, we've got it under control," Patricia told her kindly. "You go on ahead." Allison wondered if the thought of a community sing-along was paining Patricia, reminding her of Otis.
"Well then, as they say, you can lead a horse to water but a pencil has to be lead," Allison stated, folding her own napkin and setting it down. She heard groans and looked up to see grimacing faces glaring at her. "Oh fine, if Dale had said that you'd all look at him like he was Mahatma Gandhi…" she muttered.
"Anyone who cares to join us is welcome," Hershel stated, although it sounded more like a command than an invitation.
Glenn returned with the guitar and handed it to Allison. Everyone took seats around the living room and looked at her as if they expected her to produce a rabbit from a hat. "Nothing like a little public pressure," she thought to herself.
"First of all," she spoke to Glenn, "This guitar had been in an enclosed car in the hot sun when Dale found it. Guitars are made of wood and they warp and change shape with weather fluctuations. Even professional musicians playing outdoor concerts in hot or humid weather have to constantly re-tune their guitars."
"So how do you tune a guitar?" Glenn asked.
"You need a 'reference' – a piano, another guitar, a tuning fork. I don't know how long ago that piano there," she nodded toward the spinet against the wall, "was tuned, but it will do for now." She walked over to the keyboard and alternately punched a key and then fiddled with a knob on the neck of the guitar. She didn't bother explaining the intricacies of what she was doing because she had an antsy audience waiting for a song. Right now she just wanted to adjust the strings as quickly as possible, hoping that a semi-tuned guitar would cover up her rusty playing.
A few minutes later she walked back to her seat near the middle of the room, the center of attention, with a sea of waiting eyes pointed at her. She hoped no one would notice her nervous, trembling fingers. "OK, mind you, I'm going to have to go by memory here, since I don't have any sheet music…I'm trying to think of a song that I know that y'all might know the words to…" She sighed as if the rush of words had exhausted her. "All right, here's an easy one to pick up if you don't already know it…"
"In the town where I was born
Lived a man who sailed the seas
And he told us of his life
In the land of submarines…"
As it turned out most of the group recognized the song and enthusiastically joined in the chorus: "We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine…"
When the song was finished there were smiles everywhere and young Carl was the most excited of all. "Yellow submarine, yellow submarine" he was still singing after the music had stopped. "That was cool, do you know any other songs like that one?" he asked.
Somewhat reassured by the reception to her first song, Allison wracked her brain for another sing-along-type number. Most of the songs she knew by heart came from those old music books of the 1960s and 70s her mother had resurrected from the attic. Another simple Beatles song came to mind.
"Hey Carl, how'd you like to hear a song about an evil little boy who used to clobber people over the head with a hammer whenever he was displeased?"
"Awesome!" the boy smiled with anticipation.
"Bet I know what's comin' up," Daryl commented with a slight smile. Allison was surprised to see him participating in the festivities. He wasn't necessarily singing along loudly, but he wasn't retreating to a corner of the room to be by himself, either.
"Well, if this was 'Name That Tune' you'd probably win the prize," Allison smiled at him. Then she began the song: "Joan was quizzical, studied pataphysical science in the home…"
Again, it seemed like most of the crowd recognized the song – apparently the Beatles catalog had been a staple on classic rock radio stations over the years – and sang along not only with the chorus but the verses as well. Allison noted that Rick was enthusiastically singing with his son, making hammering gestures each time they sang "Bang, bang Maxwell's Silver Hammer came down upon her head…"
"That was fun! More, please!" Carl clapped his hands in delight.
"Yeah," Rick smiled and ran his hand across his face. Allison noticed as he made the gesture that his face seemed to contain more worry lines than it had back when she'd first met him. "I remember thinkin' that all those rap and hip-hop songs Carl liked so much were too violent…I never stopped to think that they hid violent songs behind cute melodies back in the 1960s. I mean, think about it – they used to play songs like this on the Muzak speakers in supermarkets and stuff, and we thought it was innocent background music."
"Popular music was full of veiled violence, back before you were born," Dale told Rick. "And the adults used to fret about it just as much back then." He smiled and chuckled softly. "I remember when I was 10 years old and my parents would immediately switch the station when 'Wake Up Little Susie' by the Everly Brothers came on. Just the mention of a boy and girl falling asleep together in a car at a drive-in movie was just too scandalous for them to comprehend."
"My mama," Hershel commented, "God rest her soul, couldn't understand why a good ol' God-fearing boy like Elvis could sing such gospel classics like "How Great Thou Art" so beautifully and then go and shake his hips shamelessly on national television." He smiled at the memory. "I'll admit that it was partly because Elvis upset her so much on The Ed Sullivan Show that I bought his records and grew my sideburns long."
"Who's Elvis? And The Ever Brothers…?" Carl inquired, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"Who is Elvis?!" Daryl asked indignantly. He looked over at Allison. "You're right, they don't teach kids anything in school these days."
"To be fair," Andrea spoke up, "Elvis Presley and the Everly Brothers and the Ed Sullivan Show were all before Carl's time."
"World War II was before my time," Allison responded, "But I still know who was involved, the countries, the people…." She was building up steam; knowledge for knowledge's sake was a favorite hobby horse of hers. "Pearl Harbor happened long before I was born, but I still know the details – the dates, the people involved, the reasons why…."
"What's Pearl Harbor?" Carl asked.
"Long story, kid," Allison hastily replied. "Has to do with World War II, which they probably hadn't started teaching in detail in your grade at school yet."
"Can you tell me about it sometime?" he asked her, since she'd so far been his go-to source for questions his parents never answered.
"Sure," Allison said, strumming random chords on the guitar, "Any time, as long as you mom says it's OK." She paused and then looked at him seriously. "Above all, you should never stop being curious and asking questions. That's the only way you'll learn new things is by asking questions, whether it's your parents who answer them, or me or Mr. Daryl or whomever."
"Hey, Doc," T-Dog called out, "Do you know this one? I remember when I was a little kid my grandma dancing me around the room to it…" He began to sing hesitantly: "'Everybody's doin' a brand new dance now, c'mon baby, do the loco-motion…"
Allison thought back…it was a pretty basic song, only a few chords…she strummed a few tentatively while singing the verse quietly, "My little baby says it's so easy to do…C, A minor, C, F, D minor…" She looked up then and said "I think I've got it, but I'll need y'all to help me out, since this is not really an acoustic song." She suddenly felt like some rock star on stage in front of a crowd. "I need y'all to clap your hands in time to keep the beat." She thumped on the front of the guitar with her knuckles to suggest the rhythm. Once everyone began clapping along Allison added, "And you'll need to sing the words, too, to cover up for when I don't know the right chords…" After a few beats she began singing and playing and everyone joined in almost immediately. Even Carl learned the basic melody quickly and sang "c'mon baby, do the loco-motion" every time the phrase came up.
Rick, T-Dog, Carl and even Dale got up and did some makeshift dance movements in time to the music. Everyone collapsed in laughter once the song was done, and then Patricia hesitantly entered the room.
"I got some of Otis' sheet music out of the trunk upstairs," she told Allison, handing her a handful of sheafs. "Maybe this will help you teach Glenn."
"Thank you," Allison replied. Then to Glenn she said "Study these and pick out a song you'd like to learn and tomorrow I'll show you how to match those chords on the printed music to your fingers on the strings."
"It's getting late," Andrea said, indicating that it was time for the party to break up. "I'll take Shane's dinner to him." She headed to the kitchen to assemble some leftovers.
"That was most enjoyable," Hershel told Allison as everyone began getting up and scooching the furniture back the way it was. "I thank you very much."
"It was my pleasure, Mr. Hershel," Allison replied. "I'm just pleased that my attempts at singing and playing didn't send everyone running and screaming."
‡‡‡‡ ‡‡‡‡ ‡‡‡‡
As they got ready for bed in their tent, Allison apologized to Daryl.
"I'm sorry 'bout all that," she said, stripping off her shirt and bra and donning Otis' old shirt in their place.
"'Bout what?" Daryl asked, somewhat pointedly as he unlaced his boots.
"About staying after supper and that whole singing thing with the whole group. I know that that's not really your favorite way to spend an evening…"
"Is that what those looks you were givin' me were all about?" he asked her.
"What do you mean?"
"When Hershel asked you to stay and play for everyone."
She had to think back, but it occurred to her that yes, she had sort of silently sought his approval before she'd started the sing-along.
"I guess," she admitted. "I just didn't want to upset you. If you didn't want to linger after dinner, then I didn't want to either."
He removed a sock and tossed it aside. "And since when did you need my approval to do anything?"
"What?" Allison was confused.
Daryl turned and looked her in the eye. "Did you like playing music and singing?"
"Well, after I got going and got used to it, I guess I did."
"So why would you need me to tell you it was OK?"
"I don't understand – I just didn't want to –"
"'Upset me', I know, you already said that. And you're right, you don't understand." He ran a hand impatiently through his hair. He sighed and then continued. "I ain't Ed Peletier, OK?! I don't want you to feel afraid of me, or like you need to check with me before you make a move or f - - freakin' breathe." He paused and caught his breath, and his tone was softer when he spoke next. "You make me feel like some kind of monster when you do that."
Allison quietly thought about what he'd said and it struck her that he was right; in a way, she was starting to act like a skittish mouse around him. And why? Maybe part of it was because she still felt some sort of silent, psychological competition for his attention, thanks to Carol. And surely a bigger part was a habit she'd had all her life…overcompensating, trying too hard to please so that people liked her.
She slowly walked over to where Daryl sat and knelt beside him, facing him. "You're right, and I apologize," she began. She very gently entwined her fingers with his that were resting on his knee and continued. "I'm on a learning curve, and I'm afraid I'm not doing very well. I've never had a boyfriend, or however you want to describe yourself…I've never before had a man who loved me and cared for me like you do, and sometimes I'm not sure how to act, what to do. I get over-anxious to please you, because, frankly, what makes me happiest these days is making you happy."
Daryl released his hand from her grip and wrapped that hand around the back of Allison's head. He pulled her close, closed his eyes and kissed her lips for a long, lingering moment. When he pulled back ever so slightly and opened his eyes he told her "Just don't try so hard, OK? I'm just learning, too, about, um, relationships and stuff, but all I want from you is to be yourself. That's what makes me happy, 'K?"
Allison closed her eyes and wrapped her hand around the top of his head and gently tousled his hair as she pulled him back to her lips for another kiss. "OK," she whispered.