Leap of Faith - Cassidy Shay (children's ebooks free online txt) 📗

all this hearing business is going to end just as suddenly as it started. 

He grabs his shoes and sweatshirt, and we head out the door. I hear the elevator ding, hear the click as he presses the button for the lobby. I hear the doors slide open, and I hear my flip flops flip and flop against my feet. 

I can hear.

A couple times, Mikey tries to talk, but I shush him. For the last few months, his voice was all I could hear, all I thought I wanted to hear. But I never imagined that the whole world of sounds would once again be available to me. I want to soak it all in, to bask in the glory of it all. 

We get down to the beach, and I sit down in the cold sand, close my eyes, and listen. I'm terrified by the huge expanse of open water before me, but I'm completely in awe at the sound of the waves, coming to a gentle end just before they hit my feet. 

Mikey drops down beside me, and out of habit I lean my head on his shoulder. 

"I can hear, Mikey," I whisper. "I can hear. And it's wonderful. It's the most amazing thing I've ever experienced in my life." He doesn't say anything, and we sit in silence for several minutes. 

Well, not silence. Because I. Can. Hear. 

 

"Can we talk about what you said in there?" I ask quietly. We’ve been sitting out here for about ten minutes, and it's finally setting in, what he said. It's registering, and I feel a pit in my stomach. My chest is physically hurting, and there's a lump in my throat. My face feels all crusty from the tears that dried to it earlier, but I know that more are just going to start coming soon. 

He clears his throat, grabs my hand in his. "Yeah, of course," he says, holding back his own tears. 

"How long have you felt like this?" What I really mean, of course, is, "How long have you been leading me on?" Before he has a chance to answer, I keep going. "Mikey, I could see us being together forever. It sounds cliché and super dumb, meeting the man you'll marry when you're sixteen. But I can't help it. I was over here day-dreaming about what we'll name our kids, and you're planning homilies. Why didn't you say something sooner?"

He sighs and his thumb starts making the circle on my hand once again. "Honestly, it hasn't been long at all. Just recently, Father suggested that I might be called to the priesthood. I thought about it for about a day, until I saw you again. And I thought that I knew for sure that God wouldn't do that to me, make me fall in love with such an amazing girl just to send me to a life of celibacy. I thought that I for sure ruled that out."

Another deep breath. "But tonight, something just felt different. I still have all the same feelings about you, please know that I'm not using this as an excuse just to wimp out on dumping you. It just felt... I don't know, off, I guess. And I never expected something like this would be so physically painful. But I just know that it's the right thing to do."

I want him to ask me to wait, to give him a few months to get things sorted out. That he'll probably realize it was nothing, that of course he's not going to be a priest. He just needs some time to make absolutely sure. "Wait for me." Three little words. I can hear everything now, but all I want to hear is those words.

But I know that he won't say them. Because that wouldn't be fair to me. And he knows that. All it would do is push off the pain. I could deal with this broken heart later, hold onto the false hope that he'll come back to me. I could stay in my perfect bubble, where I have the perfect boyfriend, for a little bit longer. And not have to deal with this now. 

For another few minutes, neither of us speaks. We sit in the dark, leaning against each other, listening to each other breathe (I can hear him breathe. Not just speak. But I can hear the air entering and exiting his body. I can hear it). 

"How... Why..." I stop myself, take a deep breath. "What is the next step?"

"Well, I'm probably going to keep meeting with Father. He's the vocational director for our parish, the guy we're supposed to go to when we have these kinds of questions. And he'll pray with me and counsel me and help me open up my heart and my life to God's will, and to discern what God's will truly is in my life."

"Is it something that you want to do?"

He takes a deep breath in, but doesn't let it out right away. "I don't really know." He squeezes my hand tighter. "Right now, I just want to ignore this, and be with you and enjoy our time together. Right now, I wish I would have at least waited to do this until after we were back home, and at least avoided an awkward six-hour car ride." I laugh a little. That's something I love about him. Even in moments like this, he says something that makes me smile. As if the only thing on my mind right now is the awkward car ride. 

"But that's why I need to take a step back from us. If I don't figure this out now, I might not figure it out until it's too late."

"But what do you want to do with your life? Do you want to be a priest? I mean, this is your life, isn't it? Do what you want to do." I know I'm not helping him out. But I just want this pain to stop. I want him to tell me that I'm right, this was all a mistake, that he's not going anywhere, certainly not to the priesthood. That the only place he's going is back to the room so we can make out a little more before his dad comes back.

"Yeah, but it's not quite like that.” Normally, this kind of conversation would probably end up in Mikey getting mad and us arguing about it. But he just seems so deflated, like he doesn’t have it in him to get angry right now. “God gave everything for me. He gave His Son, He gave His life. He created me, and my purpose on this earth is do God's will in every way that I can. He gives us free will. And with that, we can choose to follow His will or go with our own. With my free will, I'm choosing to at least figure out what God's will is for me. That's what I'm choosing to do with my life."

Even though it's not what I want to hear, I can't help but admire his love for his Faith, his dedication to his God. I don't know if I'll ever reach that level. Maybe it really is a good thing that we're breaking up. I would just bring him down.

Wait. What am I saying? This is not a good thing. This is heartbreak and sadness and crusty eyes from crying all night long. 

Worst start to a summer. Ever. 

 

Hours later, I'm lying under the covers, unable to sleep. How could this happen? What is even going on in my life? 

I stay up all night, tossing and turning. So many things are running through my mind. About Mikey. About hearing again. Are they connected? I mean, they have to be, right? How could they not be?

I finally start to drift off around five, still just as confused.

 

Around ten, Mikey gently shakes me awake. "Hey, Amia," he says. There's something different about the way he looks. He looks... sad. Oh. So it wasn't a dream. "You want to head down and get some breakfast? They close it all down in half an hour."

I get up and quickly get dressed, and we head down to first floor together. The elevator ride is awkward, with an awkward amount of space between us. This feels so… wrong. Once we get to the cafeteria, I grab a bagel and some yogurt, and Mikey pours some batter into the waffle iron. 

I sit down at a table next to Mr. Levis. He looks at me for a couple seconds, then says quietly, "How are you this morning?" 

I sigh. "Did Mikey already talk to you?"

He nods. "We've been down here for the last two hours talking about it. He just wants to do what's right."

I sigh, and watch him transfer the waffle onto a paper plate. He drowns it in syrup, and grabs a fork. "I know. I just wish this wasn't what he thought was the right thing. But I guess I'm being selfish, right?"

Mikey pulls out a chair and I listen to it scrape against the floor. The room is pretty empty, but there are still the general sounds of a cafeteria. People slurping their drinks, scraping their spoons against the plastic yogurt cups. The sounds that people take for granted, that people find annoying. But I don't care. I can hear.

After a few minutes, Mr. Levis grabs our attention. “Now, I know the original plan was to hang out all of today. But in light of recent events, uh, I thought maybe you guys might want to head home now. You’re welcome to stay and hang out more if you’d like. But I can also take you home if that would make you feel better.” He glances back and forth between us. In his eyes, I can see compassion and heart ache. I obviously don’t have kids, but I know that it must be hard to see your son go through all of the pain that Mikey’s been through lately.

When we go up to the room, I grab my bag, which is pretty much already packed. I put my flip flops on, and Mikey gathers his stuff and is ready as well. When we get to the lobby, Mikey and I take the bags and the car keys and go out to bring the car around. We're on the road in about five minutes. Luckily it's a Sunday morning, so traffic is pretty light, and it doesn't take us long to get out of the city. 

Shortly after we get on the road, I pull my book out of my bag. I brought it for emergency awkward silences, and I'm so glad that I did. We make it back in five and a half hours, and Mr. Levis drives straight to his apartment. "Mikey, go ahead and take her home. I thought you guys might have a little something more you want to say in private. Just bring the car back." He turns around to face me. "Thanks for coming with us, Amia. I know this wasn't the trip you hoped it'd be. But I hope you still had some fun." He gets out of the car, and Mikey walks around to the driver's side. I consider staying in the back, but I figure that that would just be even more awkward. 

Once we get to my house, he turns the car off and leans his head against the steering wheel. "I'm so sorry, Amia," he says. "You believe me, right?"

I nod. "Of course, Mikey. I still don't understand all of it, but I'm not mad at you. Well, I'm a little mad at you. But I still love you and I still care about you and I know that this is something that you think you have to do. So I'll try to be supportive."

He looks over at me and smiles. "I love you, Amia."

"I love you too, Mikey." It’s said with sadness, with the pain that comes with an unnecessary broken heart. We both lean over the center console for a hug.