Если я останусь

           Standingbackstage,listeningtootherkidsplayscratchyviolinandclunkypianocompositions,I’dalmostchickenedout.I’druntothestagedoorandhuddledonthestoopoutside,hyperventilatingintomyhands.Mystudentteacherhadflownintoaminorpanicandhadsentoutasearchparty.

           Dadfoundme.Hewasjuststartinghishipster-to-squaretransformation,sohewaswearingavintagesuit,withastuddedleatherbeltandblackankleboots.

           "Youokay,MiaOh-My-Uh?"heasked,sittingdownnexttomeonthesteps.

           Ishookmyhead,tooashamedtotalk.

           "What’sup?"

           "Ican’tdoit,"Icried.

           Dadcockedoneofhisbushyeyebrowsandstaredatmewithhisgray-blueeyes.Ifeltlikesomemysteriousforeignspecieshewasobservingandtryingtofigureout.He’dbeenplayinginbandsforever.Obviously,henevergotsomethingaslameasstagefright.

           "Well,thatwouldbeashame,"Dadsaid."I’vegotadandyofarecitalpresentforyou.Betterthanflowers."

           "Giveittosomeoneelse.Ican’tgooutthere.I’mnotlikeyouorMomorevenTeddy."Teddywasjustsixmonthsoldatthatpoint,butitwasalreadyclearthathehadmorepersonality,moreverve,thanIeverwould.Andofcourse,hewasblondandblue-eyed.Evenifheweren’t,he’dbeenborninabirthingcenter,notahospital,sotherewasnochanceofanaccidentalbabyswapping.

           "It’strue,"Dadmused."WhenTeddygavehisfirstharpconcert,hewascoolascucumber.Suchaprodigy."

           Ilaughedthroughmytears.Dadputagentlearmaroundmyshoulder.