Leap of Faith by Cassidy Shay (the giving tree read aloud .txt) 📕

hear, the world to me isn't "a world full of noise." It's just the world. Another call is a group of girls who just want to say hi.
    I lose track of all the calls, all the names and conversations. But the whole time, I am amazed at all these people, how interested and inspired they are by my story.
    When the show is over, I just stare at the computer. For a couple minutes, Mikey doesn’t say anything. 
   Finally, he taps my shoulder. “It’s time to go,” he says. I nod, but don’t say anything.
   He takes me back to my house. My dad’s car is still there, but I just sigh. I figure it’s time for me to face him. I'll have to do it eventually, so it might as well be now.
    I still don’t get out of the car right away. I turn to Mikey. “Thanks. For today. For everything.” 
    He shrugs. “It was nothing.”
    I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t nothing. Today was a lot of help. I think…” I look toward the house. “I think I can handle my dad now.”
    He nods. I look out the windshield, exhale slowly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    I get out of the car and head into the house.
   I go straight to the kitchen, where Lisa and my mom are huddled, talking to each other. I go to the fridge and grab a water bottle. They stop talking and look at me. I roll my eyes.
    “Did you have a good day?” I smile and nod. My mom nods, then glances at Lisa. “Well… I hope you don’t mind that your dad will be joining us for dinner.”
    I sigh. “I figured that, since his truck is still here.”
    Lisa cuts in, “Yeah, well, he’s been waiting for you all afternoon.” She looks annoyed, but I can't tell if she's annoyed by me or my dad. 
    I just shrug. I don’t regret avoiding him for one afternoon. He avoided me for ten years. 
   I hear the bathroom sink running down the hall, and in a couple minutes I see my dad walk into the kitchen. 
    He has bags under his eyes, and he looks frustrated. Good. 
    We sit down with our meals and for the first few minutes, no one says a word. 
    Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I put my fork down and look at my dad. 
    “Why did you leave us?” It’s a question that I didn’t ask him last night, but it’s a question that I need answered. It’s a question that used to haunt me, keep me awake at night. I used to think that there was something wrong with me, that my dad didn’t love me enough to stay, or even keep in touch.
    My mom faces me, but her eyes are focused on my dad. “Amia, please, not at the dinner table.”
    I ignore her. I’m looking at my dad, waiting for an answer. He just looks confused.
    “Uh… well, um… Amia, I need you to know that it wasn’t easy for me to make that decision.”
    I snort at his reply. “But it was easier than staying with us?”
    He takes a minute to answer. “Um… well, no. Of course not. If it means anything to you, there isn’t a day that went by that I didn’t regret leaving.”
    I roll my eyes. “So you regretted it, but it took you ten years to come back? Am I supposed to believe that you really lived ten years of your life, hating every minute of it? Did you realize that you missed out on over half of my life? More than half of Lisa’s?"
    He nods slowly. “I’m sorry. Every day, I wanted to come back. I wanted to fix things. But I was too ashamed.” He looks into my eyes. It takes all my strength not to run away and cry. “I thought about you guys every day.”
    “I didn’t think about you,” I say almost immediately. It’s a lie, of course. Every Fathers’ Day, every father-daughter dance. Any time I needed something that required two parents, or Mom was too busy, I thought of him. But I can’t let him know how much he’s damaged me. “I didn’t think about you once.”
    No one says anything for a couple minutes, but no one eats either. We all just stare at our plates. Finally, I speak again. “Why did you leave? I want a reason. Don’t change the subject again.”
    He sighs. “It was hard for me, Amia. My sister died that year! She was my best friend. It was hard to lose someone that close to me. And then we were having money problems, and your doctor’s bills added to it and…” He stops. “I didn’t know how to handle it all. So I left. I wasn't leaving my family. I was leaving everything- all my problems. I was blinded by my grief, and I didn't see that you guys weren't the problem.” 
    I nod slowly. “I get it. It’s not like she was my aunt, and we weren’t close at all. It’s not like I was in that car when she died. And you know, I hadn’t just lost all my hearing. I wasn’t trying to learn how to read lips, learn sign language, go to a new school where other people had been deaf their whole lives. Of course not. And you and Mom were having money problems, but Lisa and I weren’t. We didn’t need you guys to be there for us.” 
    I’ve been staring at my plate this whole time, but now I look up at him. “That car accident took so much away from me. Don’t you remember that I wouldn’t go on that bridge anymore? Did you know that I still can’t stand to be anywhere near it, after ten years? Last time we tried, I almost had a heart attack.” I shake my head. “We needed you. And you just left.”
    I stand up and walk out.
    I go through the front door, and then I find a flaw in my plan. I have no idea where I’m supposed to go.   So I just turn left and walk towards the park where Mikey and I went before the storm.
    I sit on a swing, pump my legs back and forth. I get high, higher, higher. I look down at the ground. 
    I think about jumping. Almost do it.
    But… no.
    I can’t. Mikey

 

Dinner’s fun. Even though he didn't say much earlier, my dad is pretty mad at me for skipping school. When he tells my mom, she’s even more pissed than he is. 
    “Explain why you feel you have the right to just leave school.” My mom studies my face, waiting for my answer.
    “Amia needed to get out of there. Her dad came back last night, and she started crying. I couldn’t just let her go to class like that. I took her to Aunt Bailey’s and then we went to a park until it was time to go to the studio.”
    When my dad told my mom that I ditched, I heard him say that he was just going to let my mom deal with it. Now, he looks up from his plate and starts talking. That didn't take long. “That’s another thing that I’m not too happy about. You know that you’re not supposed to bring people into there.”
    I just roll my eyes. They are completely missing the point. My mom looks like she’s ready to slap me. “Her dad came back? Where was he? Why was he gone?”
    I shrug. I want to tell her that it doesn't matter, it's none of her business. “She hasn’t told me the whole story." I hesitate before going on, because I know that it won't make my mom happy. "I just know that he left them when she was six.”
    She slowly shakes her head, sad for the family. “And you say they don’t go to church?”
    Again, missing the whole point. I nod. “Yeah. Sometimes her sister goes, but that's it. Now can we get on with my punishment, instead of talking about her? None of this is her fault. She didn’t ask me to skip school and take her somewhere.”
    My mom shakes her head. “I don’t want you hanging out with that girl anymore.” I wasn't expecting that. My mom has never been approving of people who get a divorce, or of kids whose parents are divorced. She doesn't think that it's possible to raise a good kid without the help of both parents. I've always known that, which is why I was reluctant to tell her about Amia's dad. I just thought she'd be judgmental, but I didn't expect her to tell me I can't talk to her anymore.
    “What? Why? She didn’t do anything wrong! I practically had to drag her out of the school.”
    Her head is still moving from side to side. “She doesn’t go to church. Her parents are divorced, Michael.  She’s obviously not a good influence for you.”
     I just laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Mom, you can’t blame her for her parents’ failed marriage. That’s not her fault." I've only known her for a short time, but I'm already way too attached to let just stop talking to her. Besides, that's the last thing Amia needs right now. She needs a friend. "And just because she doesn't go to church doesn't mean she's a horrible person," I add. 
    My dad glares at me. “Michael, your mother is right. Without both parents around, she is obviously not getting the right kind of guidance that a teenager needs. And if she doesn’t go to church, then she is missing out on a very crucial part of life. She can only bring you down.”
     I shake my head. They must be joking. I didn't realize they were this judgmental. “She didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t be banned from talking to her.” This is ridiculous. I can’t believe this. Since when is it the Christian thing to abandon someone in need?
    My mom, instead of continuing the argument, pretends like I have agreed with their decision. “I’m sure you’ll agree that having your driving privileges taken away for a while is a suitable punishment.” She pauses for a second. “And clean your room. You know, Michael, you’re not a little kid anymore, and I’m not your maid. Your room is a pig sty and it needs to be cleaned. You know better.” Of course she’d use this as an excuse to tell me to clean my room. She’s always bugging me about that. I shake my head. Now I’m