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

“Do you really want that, though?” she asks. “You’re already hurt, and for a while you’re already going to see your parents differently, until you’ve had time. Finding out the details of why they’re getting a divorce just means that you have to blame someone. It means that you have to choose sides. And I know that you love both of your parents.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good point,” I say. She’s right. I do want answers, but I don’t want to feel like I have to take sides over who’s wrong and who’s right. Maybe in a few years I’ll be ready for that, but not right now. Right now, I just have to get used to this. My parents are getting a divorce.

Neither of us says anything for a few minutes. We just sit there, both of us staring at our hands. I wonder what she's thinking about. 
    "Well, how was your day?" I ask her, trying to change the subject. 
    She hesitates, trying to decide something. Finally, she sighs. "Well, my parents announced that they're getting married. Again. My dad proposed this morning." 
    I can't keep the laugh in. "So my family falls apart, and yours gets back together. And neither of us are happy about it." 
    She laughs too, and it's just the sound that I needed to hear. "Yeah, it seems pretty dumb. I just don't want to see my mom get hurt again. If it hadn't been for my newfound needy-ness when Dad left, I don't know what would have happened to her. I swear the only thing that kept her going was that I needed a whole new level of nurturing, so her instincts kicked in until she kind of got over it." She pauses and wrinkles her nose. "Or at least, I thought she was over him. But then he shows up one day and everything's fine." She shakes her head. 
    "I'm trying to be happy for them. Especially my mom. She deserves happiness. She deserves affection and attention and a husband. I just don't know if returning to her ex-husband who just up and left ten years ago is the answer." 
    "Is that something I should do? Be happy for them?” I ask. “I never understand if divorce is supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing. I mean... I know it's a bad thing. And it doesn't make sense. When you're married, you become one. One body. After you're one, how do you separate into two again?" I glance out the window. "But at the same time, it's a second chance, right? A blank page, a new start. They obviously aren't happy, so here's an opportunity for them to actually become happy again. So should I try to be happy for them?"
    She shrugs. "I don't know. I know for my mom it was a bad thing. And I don't know if my dad had a good time or not, and I don't really care. But if it's a mutual thing..." She shrugs again. "I'm sorry, Mikey. No one should have to be put through this. It's a horrible and unnatural thing for your parents to just split up like that."
    The waitress comes by with our food, and we drop the conversation. Instead of talking about our parents, we start talking about school. 
    "I don't know what I'm gonna do next year," she says at one point. "It seems kind of pointless to keep going to school with normal people who can, like, actually hear. And next year, you won't be there. And I don't really talk to anyone else. My mom and I have talked about it a lot. She even asked if I wanted to go back this year, but I don’t want to change in the middle of the year." She pauses to load her fork with salad, making an effort to get a little bit of everything. One piece of lettuce, an olive, a piece of tomato, a piece of chicken.
    "It definitely sounds like it would be easier to go back to your old school. It would be better for your grades, and you know more people there." 
    She laughs. "Yeah, well, not really anymore. I haven't talked to them in a long time. They got kind of weird about my hearing, and since we don't ever see each other, and the only way we can communicate is through email, we all just kind of stopped talking. I don't know if it would be easy or not to go back. At least not socially. Academically, it would be way easy. But where are you going? Have you decided?"
    "No," I say, shaking my head. "I've applied at all kinds of places, and I've been accepted at the state universities, and a couple others. But I just have no idea, and I don't even know what I want to do."
    She doesn't say anything, and I don't have anything else to say. For a couple minutes, it's quiet as we finish our food. When we're done, the waitress comes over to get our plates. "Will you guys be staying for desert?"
    I can tell that Amia didn't know what she said, so I repeat the question to her. She says no, so I ask for the check. As we're leaving the restaurant, Amia grabs my hand and swings my arm around her shoulder, and wraps her other arm around my waist. I laugh, and pull her as close to my side as I can. 

We go to the park after that, which is pretty much deserted. I look at my watch, and it's just after 6:30. We head for the swing sets, not saying anything. She sits down and I start to push her, and she goes higher and higher.
    After a few minutes, I stop pushing her and she starts to slow down. I watch her in the air, concentrating on some spot in the distance. When she finally stops, she looks disappointed. 
    "Are you alright?" I ask her. She just nods, but she doesn't exactly look okay. After a couple seconds she shakes her head quickly, clearing her thoughts. 
    "I'm okay. I just... I've never been able to jump off the swings. I've always wanted to, but I just can't ever do it." I start laughing, and she smiles. "I know, it sounds dumb. Most kids are jumping off the swing when they're like two. And I'm obviously a little older than two. But I could never bring myself to do it. I'm too afraid of getting hurt." 
    "Sounds like everything else in your life too." As soon as I say it, I regret it. It wasn't really mean, but it was unnecessary. 
    "What do you mean?" 

“Never mind,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, tell me,” she says.
    "Well, think about it," I say, reluctant. "Especially with your dad. Everyone else has forgiven him, but you're always focused on the worst case scenario." I shrug, looking down at the ground. "If everyone just based their decisions on the worst thing that could happen, then there wouldn't be a point to anything and nothing would ever get done. People wouldn't take risks, and everyone would just be an untrusting mess." 
    "It always comes back to him, doesn't it?" she says. 
    "Amia, just try to get along with him. You have this great opportunity to be part of a whole family again. Don't think of it like a chance to get your heart broken again. Take it as a chance to rebuild your broken relationships, to have unity again." Her shoulders go up and down slowly as she takes a deep breath. "My family is falling apart now, and I wish so much that I could have what you have." 
    She shakes her head, laughing. "You might still get this eventually. Remember that my dad left ten years ago. And your parents might change their minds. The divorce process is long and involved. They have to spend a lot of time together working out this and that and everything else. They might end up forgetting about the divorce." 
    "Let's hope so." 
    I look at the sky, but there aren't any stars. It was cloudy all day, and they were expecting rain. In a few minutes, I feel rain on my cheek. Slowly at first, but then it starts pouring. I can barely hear Amia's laugh over the roar of the rain. She stands up and dances around, and I go to join her. After a few circles, I bump right into her, and we grab onto each other to keep from falling down. 
    She's still laughing as she holds onto my arms. "I love the rain," she says. 
    I don't say anything. I just watch her, still holding onto me, as she tips her head back to catch the rain drops. Her hair is flat against her scalp, and her clothes cling to her body. Without saying anything, I grab her face and press her lips against mine. She's startled at first, but then she relaxes. She wraps her arms around my neck instead of holding onto my arms, and we stay like that for several seconds, the rain rushing down our pressed-together faces. Finally, she steps back. She tries to keep her eyes open, but it's hard with all the rain. 
    Her eyes are bright, even in the night. She wipes her hand across her face, getting rid of some of the water. I shake out my hair, doing the same. I pull her towards me again, kiss her on the forehead. "Amia," I whisper. It's so quiet that I can barely hear myself, so I don't know if she can hear me. "I think I love you." 
    She doesn't move or react in any way, so I assume she just didn't hear me. I hug her tighter as the rain comes down around us, but I don't repeat it. 
    Despite my speech about taking risks, I can't bring myself to say it again, loud enough to be heard. I'm afraid of what she might say. 

    The next few weeks, I'm not myself. The only time where I even remotely feel like myself is when I'm at mass. It's like stepping through the church doors is the only way to clear my head. I can tell that Amia and my parents are starting to worry about me. 
    One day, I'm sitting at the kitchen table doing my homework when my dad comes in. "Hey, Mikey," he says. "Can I talk to you?"
    I put down my pencil and lift my head. "Yeah," I say. "What's up?"
    "I noticed that you really have not been yourself lately," he says. "Now, I completely understand why. I know it has a lot to do with your mom and I. And I know I'm probably not your favorite person right now. But maybe I can help clarify some things for you, or something. Would it help you if you knew the reasons for the divorce?" I can tell that he’s hesitant, and that he really doesn’t want to tell me all the details.
    I remember what Amia said, and shake my head. "No, I don't think so. That just means that there's one person who gets more blame than the other, and then I pick sides. I think it's easier when I can