Her Reckless Rockstar by Gena Snow
Epilogue
Avery
Five years later
“Okay, everyone, let’s welcome Tristan, Brian, and Jamie,” my wife says to her second-grade class at Alton Elementary School.
Soon the classroom is filled with hand-clapping and squeals. I had no idea we were so famous even to the eight-year-olds.
I turn my attention away from the hot teacher, which isn’t an easy thing to do. It’s been five years since our marriage, but it feels like we’ve just met. Earlier, when I sat observing her read stories to the kids, I couldn’t help falling in love with her all over again.
She’s pregnant with our second child, which is the reason for her bulging belly and her exaggerated curves overall. I’m so proud of myself for owning this smart and fiery woman.
I brought our four-year-old son Tony with me, and he’s sitting next to me.
Avery got her teaching credential three years ago while being a mom to our son Tony and has been working as a teacher for two years. Music education isn’t part of the school’s curriculum, mostly because of the funding, but my wife believes music is good for the development of children’s brains. Hence, she squeezes in an hour of music appreciation time in her classroom each week. She plays music on YouTube to inspire the kids, and she also finds basic music lessons online to teach them.
Today, she invites us to perform and interact with her students. Dylan had quit the band, but Jamie filled in just fine. The lad is extremely talented. He plays the guitar and the keyboard well and has written most of the songs for the band in recent years because I’ve been so busy being a dad.
Jamie brought his keyboard, and I brought our guitar. Brian got his drum set, not the five-piece set he uses in the band, but a junior three-piece set he used back in high school.
Surely, we won’t be singing any hard metal that would hurt the tender eardrums of the young children. We sing some kids-friendly rock songs such as Johnny B. Goode and Blue Suede Shoes.
Since these songs are as old as the kids’ grandparents, I doubt they’ve heard them before, so I’m surprised to see them rocking along with the rhythm, and a few of them even sing along, shouting “go Johnny go go” with us!
After that, we let the kids play with our instruments. And unsurprisingly, the drums are the most favorite items.
Finally, it’s question time. Avery told me she had each student come up with three questions, one for each of us. And then she’ll circle the one we should answer, just to make sure it wasn’t too silly. I applauded her thoughtfulness at first, but now I’m not sure. It looks like she picked the harder ones.
A girl named Jenny raises her hand and asks me, “Why do you become a rock star?”
I pause for a while. Damn. I’ve answered millions of questions from fans, journalists, and TV hosts. No one has ever asked me this question. People would ask you why you become a teacher, a nurse, or a veterinarian, but they don’t ask you why you become a rock star or a movie star. They assume it’s something everybody wants to be.
Obviously, these children don’t have the assumption yet. Instead of asking Jenny’s question, I ask her back, “Jenny, would you want to become a rock star?”
Jenny shakes her head and smiles shyly. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m scared of singing in front of people.”
“But do you like to sing?”
She nods.
“I’ll tell you what, Jenny. You don’t have to sing in front of people to be a rock star. You could sing in front of your camera and post the video online.”
Jenny’s mouth drops and then she smiles. “Awesome!”
Brian gets the question, “Why is it called rock and roll” and scratches his head helplessly for a second. “I guess it’s because you rock and roll your hips when you listen to the music.”
While the kids nod, Brian starts to snicker, and I punch him in the arm to stop him.
We leave the classroom promising the kids we’ll be back for the concert their teacher plans for the end of the school term.
That night, after tucking Tony in bed, I lie down next to my wife, who’s reading an eBook, and press my ear on her belly to listen.
“I think the little one is singing,” I say.
“What?” she laughs.
“I hear noises. Wait, she’s rocking. Feel the rhythm?”
She places her hands on her belly. “That’s just her pulse.”
“She’s going to become a rock star when she grows up. I know it.”
She laughs and kisses me tenderly on the lips. I’m about to deepen our kiss when she pulls away and asks me, “Why did Brian laugh when he answered the question about rock ‘n’ roll?”
I chuckle before I can speak. “Because it has another meaning.”
“Which is?”
“It means what we’re about to do, honey,” I say as I kiss her again.
“No way!” she giggles with flushed cheeks. “Oh my God. I should’ve crossed out that question! That’s embarrassing.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Now you know why everyone loves rock stars. Because we rock in bed.”
She giggles again and pulls me to her. “Now, you’ve certainly rocked my world. Rockstar!”
