Если я останусь
12:19 P.M.
Ihadtoplayfivepieces:aShostakovichconcerto,twoBachsuites,allTchaikovsky’sPezzocapriccioso,whichwasnexttoimpossible,andamovementfromEnnioMorricone’sTheMission,afunbutriskychoicebecauseYo-YoMahadcoveredthisandeveryonewouldcompare.Iwalkedoutwithmylegswobblyandmyunderarmswetwithsweat.Butmyendorphinsweresurgingandthat,combinedwiththehugesenseofrelief,leftmetotallygiddy.
"Shallweseethetown?"Grampsasked,hislipstwitchingintoasmile.
"Definitely!"
WedidallthethingsGranhadpromisedwewoulddo.Grampstookmetohighteaandshopping,althoughfordinner,weskippedoutonthereservationsGranhadmadeatsomefancyplaceonFisherman’sWharfandinsteadwanderedintoChinatown,lookingfortherestaurantwiththelongestlineofpeoplewaitingoutside,andatethere.
Whenwegotbackhome,Grampsdroppedmeoffandenvelopedmeinahug.Normally,hewasahandshaker,maybeaback-patteronreallyspecialoccasions.Hishugwasstrongandtight,andIknewitwashiswayoftellingmethathe’dhadawonderfultime.
"Me,too,Gramps,"Iwhispered.
