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

We talk for a few more minutes, and then I start playing songs again.

At 5:30, I get all my stuff together and walk out the door. My dad is waiting for me in the hall.

“What is that you wanted to talk to your mother and I about?” He sounds annoyed, tired. Maybe I should stop talking about my parents on the radio.

“I’ll tell you when you guys are together. It’ll be quicker and easier that way.”

He shakes his head. “Your mom’s not going to be home until pretty late. Can you just tell me?”

His forehead has a crease in it, and he looks deflated. It seems like he has quite a bit going on, so I tell him. There’s no point in causing more crap for him to deal with.

“Amia went to church with me on Sunday. And she wants to go again this weekend. I’m taking her no matter what. I just want to know if I’m allowed to sit with you guys or not.” I probably shouldn’t snap at him like that, but I can’t help it. I’m fed up with their condescending attitudes.

He rubs his temples. “Your aunt told us about that. Not that she wants to go again, but that you took her.” He sighs. “I don’t mind. I think it’s great. But your mom might not be so understanding. I’ll talk to her about it, but you have to talk to her too.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand why it would be a problem. Isn’t it good that she wants to come to church? That’s something that we should all be happy about, not something that we have to think hard about and consider.”

“Michael, I don’t want to hear about it right now. I have no problem with it. I’m not in the mood to argue with you right now, so I want you to let it go for right now. Understand?”

I nod. “Yeah. So, since mom won’t be home, do you want me to get some spaghetti going?”

He shakes his head. “No, I have some stuff that I need to take care of here.” He haphazardly points to his office. I know he must be tired. “Just go ahead and make whatever you want. I’ll just stop by the drive through on my way home.”

I leave him standing there and go to my car. That’s weird, I think. My parents never stay late at work on the same night. One of them is always with me. Not that I can’t take care of myself. But family is important to them.

I shrug it off and drive home. I dig through the fridge, and find nothing that sounds good. Grabbing my phone, I dial Joe’s number.

On the fourth ring, he answers. “What’s up?”

“What are you having for dinner?”

He makes a weird noise, like he’s choking on something. “What the heck are you talking about?”

“My parents are both still at work. Tell your mom that I’m coming over for dinner.”

“Okay. When are you leaving? We’re just having chicken noodle soup, and it’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”

I grab my keys and start walking to the door. “Okay. I’m leaving right now. Tell them not to wait for me before eating.” I feel kind of bad for inviting myself over on such short notice, but I know that Aunt Ruth will mostly be glad to see me. It’s been a while since I went over there.

It takes me about fifteen minutes to get to their house, and they’re just sitting down when I walk through the door. I quickly gab a bowl, dish some soup, and sit down next to Uncle Henry. We all join hands and bow our heads. “Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Joe digs in. I pick up my spoon and look into the bowl. “Is this Grandpa’s recipe?” Aunt Ruth nods. “Yeah! I made a good choice coming over here tonight. I’ll take this over frozen chicken nuggets any day.” My grandpa makes the best chicken noodle soup. Aunt Ruth and my mom are the only other ones who know the secret.

After a few minutes, Joe looks at me. “I saw Amia at the grocery store.” The smile on his face worries me.

“What did you say to her?”

He shrugs. “I just asked if she was coming to church on Sunday.”

“And what else did you say to her?”

He pretends to search his memory for something else he might have said. “I think that’s it.” I know that there was something more, simply because of the goofy grin on his face. But before I can say anything, Aunt Ruth joins the conversation.

“What is the story with her?” she asks. “Your mother told me a little about it, but she wasn’t sure on all of it either.”

I take a deep breath. I don’t want to tell them the whole story, every detail. I quickly decide what’s important and take a deep breath. “Well, she went deaf when she was six. Her aunt died, her dad left. She lost everything that year, which caused her to lose faith. A couple months ago, her sister was listening to my radio station, and Amia was able to hear it too. She called, and we talked. Then her mom put her in public school and it just so happened to be Capital High. I’m a TA for her first hour, and we just became friends.”

Mary’s head is tilted to the side. “Why can she hear the radio?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. The doctors couldn’t find anything. Her eardrums still have holes in them. The only explanation anyone can think of… is that it’s a miracle. That, for some reason, God wanted her to hear.”

No one says anything for a few seconds. “And she can only hear the radio?”

I consider telling them what she told me, about being able to hear me sometimes when I’m not on the radio. But instead, I simply nod. They don’t need to know that. “That’s one of the crazy things about it. She can only hear my station. That’s one of the reasons why I talk for so long with her, when the other callers only get a minute or so. She has no other time when she can hear someone talk to her. And it gives her a chance to hear her own voice.”

“Why doesn’t your mother like her?” asks Uncle Henry. “She sounds like a nice girl. Hardly a bad influence.”

I sigh. He’s right. For a second, I’m torn between defending my mom and sticking up for my friend. I decide to just tell them the truth and let them decide who’s right.

“One day she was having a bad say and I took her out of school. We just hung out and then I took her to the station, which is against my dad’s rules. Then I was arguing with them later. So I got in trouble and Mom said it was her fault because she’s a bad influence.”

“That’s bull,” says Joe. “I’ve only talked to her twice, but I can already tell that that girl is the nicest person I’ll ever meet. Your mom is just crazy.”

I don’t say anything, just look at my bowl. On the inside, I agree. But I’ve learned not to say anything bad about my mom in front of Aunt Ruth. I have a pretty short temper sometimes, but when it comes to her little sister, Aunt Ruth’s is even shorter.

We all talk for a while, and I help with the dishes. “I have to go,” I say, giving Aunt Ruth a hug. “I have some homework that I need to get done. Thanks for letting me come over.” I say my goodbyes and walk out the door.

When I get home, Mom is sitting at the kitchen table. “I thought you were going to be home late.” I look at the clock on the wall. It’s not even 7:30. She looks exhausted, but she gives me a weak smile.

“I thought I was going to be late too. But then Mr. Murphy died in his sleep. I just told everyone that I’d see them later and I left. I couldn’t handle it.”

I walk over to give her a hug. She’s known Mr. Murphy since she was a kid, and he was admitted to the hospital a few months ago. They spent three months trying to figure out what was wrong, and another month deciding that there was nothing they could do for him. So they just let him die, giving him painkillers so he didn’t feel anything. He didn’t have any living relatives, and my mom was the only one who visited him.

I stand by my mom, hugging her, for several minutes. Neither of us say anything. I can feel her tears soaking through my shirt, and I can hear her sobs.

After a few minutes, my dad walks through the front door. He walks right over to us and grabs my mom, gently pulls her close to him.

“I just got your message. I’m so, so sorry.” He rubs his hand along her back, and her sobs calm down. I leave, figuring that my dad has it covered.

I go to my room, turn on my music, and forget about the rest of the world.

Finally, it’s Friday. I wake up, get dressed, and head to school, ready for the weekend.

After first hour, I talk to Mikey as we walk to our next classes. “Did you talk to your parents about Sunday? My mom said I could go. Of course, she said that after an argument that lasted over an hour.”

He looks kind of distracted when he answers me. “Yeah… my dad said he doesn’t care. But I didn’t ask my mom yet. This old man died yesterday, and she’s known him since she was a kid. I figured I should probably wait to ask her.”

I nod. “That’s probably a good idea. Let her know I’m sorry, and I hope she feels better.”

He just nods. “I will.” We’re at his class now, so we go our separate ways. I hope he’s okay.

When I get home, there’s an envelope with my name on it on the kitchen table. There’s no address, just my name. It looks a little worn-out, like it’s been around for quite some time. “Mom, do you know what this is for?” She comes into the room, looks at the envelope, and sits down in a chair.

“Sit down,” she tells me. I sit down and wait. I’m a little scared about what she’ll tell me. She looks sad and worried. “Do you remember much about your aunt?”

I shrug. “I remember that she was always singing and dancing. She always had a smile on her face.” My mom nods. She waits for me to say something else, but