Leap of Faith, Cassidy Shay [best manga ereader .txt] 📗

“Are people still camped out on our lawn?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry honey. I don’t think the crowd is as big anymore, but they’re still there. They want to talk to you. I’m going to leave it up to you, but I know I wouldn’t want to talk to any of them. You deserve your privacy. But if you do talk to them, I won’t stop you. It’s your choice.”

We go to the car and drive the short distance home. When we pull into the drive way, it’s the same deal as it was this morning. They crowd the car, pressing against it, asking questions that I can’t hear. I don’t get why they think this is going to make me want to talk to them.

I go to my room and turn the radio on. Mikey will be on air soon, but for now, they’re playing a worship song. From the lyrics, it sounds like the title would be I Can Only Imagine. I think I remember it from when I was little. 
   After three songs, I hear Mikey’s voice. “Hey, guys. To start off the day, let’s listen to some Red. Here’s Already Over. He plays songs for more than an hour, and then he comes on the mic again. “Now, I’ll start taking calls. Call in, chat a little, let us know what’s going on in your life.”
    I let a couple people call before I reach over and dial the number. He answers my call right away. “Tell us your name.”
    I take a deep breath. “Amia.”
    “I’m glad you called, Amia." I can hear the smile in his tone. Isn't that great? I can hear it. I. Can. Hear. "If you listened yesterday, you’ll know that everyone here wants to know all about you. Can you tell us a story?”
    It takes effort not to scoff at the image in my head. “Are we in kindergarten now? ‘Come on, kids, sit on the story circle.’” I don’t know why I’m acting so crabby. It’s not like any of this is his fault. I just don’t know why I should trust him any more than the reporters on my lawn.

    “If it’ll get you to talk, then, sure. We can be little kids.” He pauses for a minute, and when he speaks again his voice is different. More serious. "So, are you going to tell us your story?"
    I don’t answer right away. This is personal stuff. I’ve met this guy twice, and it’s not like he was super nice to me on the phone the other night. But I promised my sister I would. And if I break the promise, she’ll just keep bugging me about it until I finally cave. So I might as well get it over with, as uncomfortable as it might be. “I… I haven’t talked about it since the day it happened. So, if I start bawling, just end the call so I don’t make a fool of myself on the radio.” I don’t really want to announce to the whole world that I might cry, but I need to know he won’t just keep me on air.
    “Will you promise to call back another day, when you’re ready to talk, and finish the story? If I do end the call?” He doesn't try to hide the seriousness. For some reason, I'm relieved. And that's probably why I do what I do next. Because he acknowledges my pain, understands, before he's even heard it, that my story is no fairy tale.
    “Yes.”
    “Let’s hear it.”

I listen in amazement as she tells me about the day she lost her ability to hear. Her voice wavers in several places, and I’m sure she has a couple tears rolling down her cheeks. But she keeps it mostly under control as she talks about the car crash and her aunt’s death. It only takes a couple minutes to describe the whole thing, but it feels like so much longer.
    At the end, she sniffles. “I don’t know how I got out of that car. The next thing I remember, I was in the ambulance. The doctors said I must have been in shock. But they told me I never lost consciousness. I didn't even notice that I couldn't hear anything until the shock wore off and my ears started hurting.”
    She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “When we went to the funeral, I cried so much that my eyes burned for days. I ran out of tears. My aunt was my best friend. And she was just… gone.”
    It’s quiet for a minute. I'm not sure how to react to something like this. I knew that it would be sad. I just didn't think it would be like this. 
    “Did… did you ever consider that what happened that day was a miracle?” I'm cautious, each word slipping out of my mouth slowly. I don't want her to think that I'm pushing God and my beliefs on her, because that's the best way to make people turn and run. But seriously. How else do you explain this?
    “Yeah. Because when your aunt dies, that’s the first thought that goes through your head.” Her sarcasm is bitter, like a punch in the gut, and I wince.
    I take a deep breath. I wait a couple seconds to answer her, because I don't want to snap at her and start an argument on air. “No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that part. I just… I can’t stop thinking about when you were in the car, under water.” Her life, from what I've heard so far, has been full of tragedy. But mixed into her story, I also see many wonders that can only be explained in one way- that God is working miracles in her life.
    She doesn’t say anything for a couple seconds. “How is that a miracle?”
    “Think about it. You were six years old. The only adult with you was dead. Most six year-olds would just freeze up and drown, panic. They'd have no idea how to get out. But you got out of the car. You don’t remember it, but you must have gotten out, because you’re here now. The chances of that happening… Well I don't know the statistics but it can't be a big chance." My words start to get faster, stumbling into each other. I want to get it all out fast in case she decides to interrupt or hang up.
    “I’m not saying that you rose from the water and floated in midair until you got to the bank and they took you to the hospital. Not that kind of miracle. But…” I take a second to think. I want to choose my words carefully, so that she, and everyone else listening, understands. “God was definitely looking out for you that day. He knew that he would need you later. He has big plans for you, missy. He has from the start.”
    I can hear her crying softly. I decide it’s time to end the call. I look at the clock and see that I only have a few minutes left anyway.
    “Thanks for calling, Amia. But we're out of time.” I press the button to end the call and continue talking to the rest of the listeners. “If you have any more questions for Amia, email them to me, and we’ll see if she can answer them. Here's one more song for you guys.”
    I hit the play button and the Worship Jamz version of God of Wonders comes on. I start cleaning up my stuff. I leave the booth, push out the door into the evening air. I need to get some fresh air, clear my thoughts. Figure out what’s going on.
    Out in the parking lot, I stop by the car and leave my stuff in there. I grab a sweatshirt, and then I start walking. I don’t know where I’m going. I just need to go somewhere.
    When Amia was telling her story, I wanted to wrap my arms around her, comfort her, make her know that it’ll be okay. It was more than that, though. I didn’t want to just comfort her so that she felt better. I wanted to hold her, for me.
   It was different from anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve liked girls, of course, dated a couple. But those were different. I always wanted to talk to them, to be doing something, anything with them. I never wanted to just hold them, to feel them in my arms. 

And it doesn’t make sense anyway. I don’t like this girl like that. I barely know her. But I still feel like, somehow, we have a unique connection. A strong one. Whether or not we’ll end up friends, or anything else, our lives are connected now. I’m the only voice she can hear. Conversations with me are the only ones she can hear. I can’t shake the feeling that, for some reason, God wants us in each other’s lives.
   I look around. I’m getting close to a neighborhood, and I decide to keep going. I’m not ready to turn around and get my car yet.

   I wander around the neighborhood, looking down at the ground. Looking back, I know I probably should have heard the footsteps. She probably should have felt me stomping around. I don’t exactly walk lightly on my toes. But we didn’t realize that anyone else was there until we bumped into each other. 
   “Woah. Sorry,” she says, barely looking up.
   “Sorry,” I mumble at the same time that she does. I had caught her so she didn’t fall, and I don't let go. I just keep a hand on her arm, and she looks up at me when I won't let go.
   “Oh. Hi, Mikey.” Her face is puffy and her eyes are red. She looks down and wipes a hand across her nose, wiping away snot. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
   I put my hands back in my pocket. I don’t want to tell her that I’ve been wandering aimlessly around, thinking about her. That doesn’t sound creepy at all.  “I live in that house on the corner.” I nod my head towards the house and she laughs. “What?”
   “You don’t live there. That's my house.” Oh.
    She starts walking again, and I fall into step next to her. Neither of us say anything. Eventually, we get to a playground. She sits on one of the swings and turns it sideways. I sit on the other one and turn to face her. 
    “I thought about what you said,” she tells me after a few seconds of silence. “About God’s plan, and how you’re convinced that every big event in my life is a miracle.”
    I nod, but don’t say anything. “And, I think you’re right,” she continues. Then she shakes her head, looking mad at herself. “I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't even know you." She looks down at the ground, and then back at me, but I have a feeling I know why. She feels it too. I’m the only one she can hear. Like it or not, we