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

I get home from school and I see my dad's truck sitting in the driveway. I let out a sigh, and then push through the front door. I hear my mom laughing from the living room, and head that way. She's sitting on the couch with my dad, and Lisa sits on the chair in the living room. "Hey," she says when she sees me. 
    "Why aren't you at work?" I ask her. Usually Lisa isn't at home until about an hour after I get done with school. 
    "I'm working tonight instead. It's going to be crazy. We have so many reservations. I have to leave in..." She checks her phone. "Fifteen minutes. And apparently Mom has something to talk to us about."
    With that, we both turn to face her. She blushes, looks at my dad, and then looks back at us. "Well, I don't know how else to say this, so I'll just come out and say it. This morning... your dad proposed!" She thrusts her left hand in our direction. 
    Lisa says something that I can't see, but I don't say anything. Lisa gets up to examine the ring, and I remain planted in my seat. What? 
    My mom finally notices that I'm not getting excited, and she seems surprised. Why would I be excited about this? "Amia, did you hear me?" 
    I just stare at her, wondering what the heck just happened. She realizes her mistake, and her face changes. "Amia, I'm so sorry," she starts. "I just... I want you to be excited for me-"
    "Excited? Mom! This guy left you! He was gone for ten years! And he comes back for a few months and you're just okay with all this? You've already forgiven him for the ten years of abandonment? Did you forget that first year? How hard you took it? He left when we needed him most, and comes back when things are starting to get better. How could you just let him in like this? How could you agree to marry him again?" It all comes out in a rush, and then I'm just standing there, tears streaming down my face. I see my mom start to say something, but I look down at the ground so that I won't know what she says. 
    In a few seconds, I feel hands on my shoulders, gently moving me towards the hallway. I look up and see that it's Lisa. My mom is huddled up against my dad, crying. 
    Lisa takes me into the bathroom and gets me a cool wash cloth. "Amia," she says. "You need to let this go. You need to move on. We all have. Why can't you do the same?" 
    I shake my head. "No, you guys haven't moved on. You just ignored the pain and forgot the last ten years, and now we're right back where we started. That's not moving on." 
    "It is moving on. It's not moving on to someone else, but it's moving past the pain. Not dwelling on it anymore. Forgiving." She puts a bit of emphasis on that last word, but I just shake my head. "I know that you lost more than we did that year," she says. "But that's not all his fault. Yeah, he did leave. But it's not his fault that his sister died. And it's not his fault that you lost your hearing." 
    I sit down on the toilet lid and look up at her. "I just... I don't understand how you guys do it." 
    She wipes a couple tears from my eyes. "Can you at least try to forgive him? Try to be happy for them? When was the last time you saw Mom this happy? She deserves a second chance. They both do. Their relationship does." I nod, and watch as she slips out of the bathroom. 

About a half hour later, I'm still sitting in the bathroom. After about ten minutes of moping, I realized that I need to get over myself. After about five more minutes of gathering motivation, I washed my face, changed my clothes, and now I'm putting some make up on. I don't usually wear a lot of make up, just a little bit of mascara. Tonight I put a little extra on. Not only to cover up any traces of my fit earlier, but also because I want to look nice for Mikey. 
    Lisa pokes her head in and gives me a once-over. "Mikey just called, and said he's leaving his house." She watches my reflection in the mirror as I run the brush through my hair one more time. "Is everything okay between you too? He sounded kind of angry. Or at least frustrated." 
    I stop the brush mid-stroke. "Um... I don't think there's anything wrong. He seemed okay this morning. A little distracted, but he definitely wasn't mad at me." I remember him saying that he had to talk to his parents, so he wouldn't be on the radio, but I don't say anything to Lisa. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."
    I finish getting ready in the bathroom, and then I go put my shoes on. I grab a purse and head downstairs. By the time I get to the bottom, I see my dad's back, heading towards the front door. This ought to be good.
    I follow him to the door, and Mikey is waiting outside. Even though we told each other we weren't going to get each other anything, he stands with a bouquet of roses. I instantly feel bad, because I got him nothing. My dad is saying something to him, but I can't tell what it is. Mikey answers with, "Yes, sir, I'll have her home by nine thirty." I look at the clock on the wall, and it's a quarter to five. "We're just going to dinner, and we might stop by the park or something. I promise no parties." He sees me standing a few feet back, and he smiles. 

“These are for you,” he says, holding the bouquet out towards me.

“Thank you, Mikey,” I say, taking them and stepping in for a hug. “They’re beautiful. I’ll go put them in a vase.” He follows me into the kitchen, where I pull a vase out of the cupboard above the fridge. My dad follows us too, his arms crossed over his chest. I try to just ignore him. Once the flowers are in the vase, I turn to Mikey. “Let’s go.”

At the door, Mikey turns around to face my dad again. He extends his hand, and my dad shakes it. "Good night, sir. Have a good night."
   "See you later," I say, and then lead Mikey to his car. After a few steps, I look back, and the door is shut. 
    Mikey lets out a sigh as we reach his car. The pleasant attitude he had when he was talking to my dad has melted away. I see right away what Lisa meant when she said he seemed frustrated. Given his normal self, I’m surprised that he was able to hide it so well when we were around my dad. "Mikey, are you okay?" 
    He looks at me, smiles a little, and leans in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm okay. I'll tell you everything when we get to the restaurant." He opens my door for me, and I get in. We drive to the restaurant without saying anything, and the silence continues until after we've ordered our food. 
    I look around after the waitress leaves, waiting for him to start talking. The restaurant isn't a super nice place, but it's not a dive. It's comfortable. I'm glad he chose this place. 
    Finally, he starts talking. "So my parents were waiting for me when I got home. I thought I was on trial or something, by the way they were sitting and staring at me." He sucks in air through his teeth. His jaw tightens, and he blinks several times in a row, trying to keep back the tears. "But it wasn't about me at all. It's about them." He was looking at his hands, but now he looks at me. He stares into my eyes for a second before continuing. "They're getting a divorce."

    As I say it, I want to punch something. How could this happen? How could I not see it coming? Looking back, I can see some clues. Both of them working more, the dinnertime conversations being reduced considerably. Several times, I woke up in the middle of the night to hear them arguing. They stopped showing any affection for each other. But even with all of this, I can't believe it.
    I look at Amia, and see the hurt in her eyes. Except this time, it’s not her own hurt; it’s mine, mirrored in her eyes. "Oh, Mikey," she breathes. "I'm so sorry. Did they say why?"
    I shake my head. "Nope. When I asked, they said it was none of my business. That it doesn't concern me." I let out a short, angry laugh. "Right. Because my parents splitting up doesn't have anything to do with me. It doesn’t affect me at all." She reaches out and puts her hands on top of mine. "I just... I never thought I'd be in this situation, you know?"

“Mikey, you know that they love you, right?” She holds my gaze searching for the answer before I can say it.

“Yes, I know that they love me. But they’re supposed to love each other. They took vows to love each other forever, until they died. Not to be happy together, not to always enjoy every second of their marriage. But to love each other, through the good times and bad, and love each other enough to work through all of the bad stuff.” I hang my head, shaking it slowly. “Maybe if I had just caused less trouble last semester, or paid more attention to them and not been so self-absorbed, or if I –“

“Woah, woah, woah,” she says, cutting me off. She looks almost like she’s disappointed in me. “Michael Levis. Listen to me right now. Parents don’t get a divorce because their son, who gets good grades and stays out of trouble, ditches school one day and goes to one party. Parents don’t get a divorce when their kids ditch school every day and parties all the time. This divorce has nothing to do with anything that you did or didn’t do. You couldn’t have stopped this any more than the six-year-old me could have stopped my dad from walking out.”

She stops talking when I shake my head. She squeezes my hands. “Mikey, look at me.” I look up at her, and I can tell by the look on her face that she means business. “Mikey, this is not your fault. You can grieve, you can be hurt, you can be sad. But I will not let you blame this on yourself.”