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

Mikey opens my door for me, then walks around to the other side. We don’t talk during the car ride, and we keep quiet as we walk into the house.

“I have to tell my mom that we’re here,” I say. “Pick out a movie.” I point to the shelves with the movies. I go down the hall and knock on my mom’s door, then open it slowly. “Mom? I’m home. We’re gonna watch a movie.”

In the light streaming in from the hallway, I watch her nod, then roll over. I shut the door and go back out to the living room. Mikey chose a chick flick, which makes me laugh. I put it in the DVD player and we go sit on the couch.

The volume is down all the way and the subtitles are on.

Mikey sits at the end of the couch and I sit next to him. Now that I’m home, watching a movie that I’ve seen dozens of times, the events of the day come creeping back. Feeling someone next to me, feeling Mikey next to me, is comforting. “Thanks for making me feel better,” I say. “I would have just been bawling my eyes out all night if you hadn’t come by.”

He nods. “Well, it’s the least I can do. You’re my best friend. I wish I could make it so that you never hurt again. You have a beautiful smile, and your eyes get super bright and really pretty when you’re happy. I don’t like not seeing that.”

I smile. “Well, you always do the right thing. I don’t know how you do it, but you do.”

He doesn’t say anything, but looks down at our hands. “This, the hand holding… that’s not just because of the beer, is it?”

I laugh. “Mikey, I had one cup. I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “I just didn’t know. I know some people who get drunk after a couple sips.” He sighs. “Well maybe not drunk, but still. You’re my best friend. I just don’t want this to be a one night thing that makes the rest of our friendship all awkward. You know?”

I nod. “I don’t know, Mikey. It seems like the whole universe wants us to be together. They’ve all told us that. So do I want this because I want it, or because it will make everyone else happy?” The last thing I want is for one or both of us to end up with a broken heart. He’s really too sweet for someone to date him just because he’s handsome, or because everyone wants him to date. “All I know is that you’re my best friend. I feel so comfortable around you, and you make me happy. I can be open with you, tell you all the personal details of my life. I’ve never felt so safe sharing all that stuff with anyone else.”

“Let’s take it slow then. We’re not going out. We’re just friends. But I’m just your friend who’s taking you on a date Sunday night.” His statement makes me laugh.

“Sounds good to me.” I smile and snuggle closer to him. “Now, shut up so I can watch this movie.”

We turn our heads to the screen, and I eventually fall asleep.

I wake up with the sun in my eyes and Mom and Lisa looking down at me. I feel Mikey move, which means he never left. “Shit,” I whisper. It surprises my mom, since I never cuss, especially in front of her.

I sit up and shake Mikey’s shoulder. “Mikey,” I say. “You have to go home. It’s morning and I don’t think your mom is going to be too happy.”

He opens his eyes and sees my mom’s face. “Looks like yours doesn’t like it too much either.”

I dial my mom's number as I climb into my car. My only thought is that she's going to be livid. 
    "Michael? Michael, are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you? Why didn't you come home last night? Are you hurt? Do you need us to come get you?" It all comes out in a rush, so fast I can barely understand the words that she's saying. She keeps going, hurriedly asking questions that I know she's not going to like the answers to. 
    "Mom, please calm down. There's nothing to worry about. I'm perfectly fine. I promise. No one's hurt. I stayed the night at my friend's house. I'm sorry. I know I should have called." I called Amia's mom. Why didn't I think to call my own? "I'm on my way home. But you don't have to worry. I'm okay."
    She's calmer now, but it's a scary calm. Now that she knows I'm okay, it's time to be mad. "You worried me sick, Michael. I called you all night. I was up waiting for you all night. I called you and called you, and all I got was your voicemail. Why didn't you answer your phone?"
    "I must not have heard it go off," I tell her. "I'm sorry."
    She gives me a little half laugh, the one that tells me I'm in big trouble. "Oh, no you're not. You aren't sorry now. But you will be." Click. She's pissed. Of course, she has a right to be. I put the phone down, focus on the road. Why didn't I call her?

    I pull into the driveway and take a deep breath. I put my forehead on the steering wheel, breathing deeply for a few seconds. I know that they’re going to be angry. I have to remain calm. Not argue with them. I take one last deep breath and walk into my house. My mom and dad sit on the couch, not saying a word. They each have a cup of coffee on the table in front of them, but it doesn't look like either of them has taken a drink. 
    "Sit down. Now." My dad's voice, deep and loud, shakes. A scowl on his face, he glares at me. My mom's hands encompass both of his, steadying them. He's pissed. 
    I sit down in the chair opposite them and wait. For a few seconds, no one says anything. They just stare at me. Mom looks hurt, disappointed, cast aside and beaten down. Dad radiates anger. They both look exhausted. Mom speaks first. 
    "Michael. You have to call and tell us where you are. If you are not home, we need to know where you are. Especially if you do not plan on coming home until after sunrise the next morning. You need to communicate with us. That is the reason why we got you the phone in the first place. Because of your blatant disregard for the rules that your father and I have set, you are grounded until New Year's." Whenever Mom gets really mad, she stops using contractions. She speaks very slowly, enunciating every syllable, leaving none out, emphasizing every "not,” sounding more and more hurt with each word.
    I quickly do the math. Until New Year's? That's almost three weeks. It wouldn't be so bad, but half of that is over Christmas Break. No school, nothing to do all day. I'll be extremely bored. Which, I guess, is the whole point of grounding your kid.
    My dad comes in now. He isn't shaking anymore, but I can still hear the anger in his short, clipped words. "You can keep the radio. It's good for you. No partying. No hanging out. No cell phone. You get enough gas money for the places you need to go, no more. School. The station. Home. Nowhere else. Understand?"
    I nod. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. This won't happen again. I promise. I just fell asleep on the couch, and before I fell asleep it was pretty loud, so I couldn't hear my phone. I really am sorry."
    "We were about to call the police, Michael. Your father convinced me not to, in case your phone was dead and you had crashed at a friend's house. But you should have called us! You could have b-b-been in an a-a-accident or m-m-murdered or..." She starts to cry now, which of course only makes me feel worse. Why didn't I call?
    "Mom," I say. "Mom, I'm safe. you don't have to worry about it anymore. I'm here." I stand up and walk to her. "Mom, it's okay." My arms go around her shoulders right as she starts to shake. 
    "P-p-please do not e-ever do that t-t-to me ag-g-gain," she sobs. And I just hold her. It's the worst form of punishment in the world, seeing your mother cry. I've only seen her cry twice. Once when my grandpa died, and once when she broke most of the bones in her hand. She's strong. She doesn't cry. But I managed to break her. Why didn't I call?

Later, I'm at the station creating a playlist for the afternoon. I take a few calls, the whole time just waiting for Amia to call. At around 5, I finally hear her voice. 
    "It's about time," I joke. She just laughs, and says she's had a busy day. "Me too," I tell her. "Lots of extra chores now. And uh... I'm grounded. For the rest of the year. So we'll have to reschedule our plans."
    "Oh. New Year's? That's three weeks from now."
    "Yeah. I'm sorry. But you're still welcome to go to church with us tomorrow. I talked to my parents about it. We'll be riding with my parents."
    She sighs, but it's not exactly sad. I don't quite understand what it is. "Alright." It's quiet for a few seconds. "I gotta go now," she says. "One of my punishments is more family time. With the whole family. Even Dad-io." She sighs again. "I have to go down there now and have dinner and pretend like I don't hate every minute of it."
    "Okay. Well, I'll see you tomorrow morning then?"
    "Yeah," she says. "I'll see you in the morning."
    When I get home, my mom and dad are already sitting at the dinner table. Usually they sit next to each other, but tonight they face each other from opposite sides of our small square table. I grab a plate a sit down in the chair between them. No one talks much during the meal, and my mom goes to bed as soon as she's done eating. I look at my dad. "Is everything alright?"
    He nods. "She's just tired. She didn't get any sleep last night." He gives me a look, and I nod slowly. 
    "I'm sorry about that. I really am."
    He nods again. "I know you are. And you should be." He takes his plate up to the sink and then walks down the hall to the bedroom. I stand up and get started cleaning the kitchen.

When I'm