The Girl With the Cross

Chapter 23: Tyler

  I can't believe it; He's real. It can't possibly all be a coincidence. God has to be real. There is no second guessing. I told him that if he showed me a sign after church, I would know that He's real, that He's here for me, and when I get in the car, that's one of the first things I see. It's amazing to know that after all this time, He was real. I feel a pang of guilt. I thought He was gone, fake, a myth to explain the afterlife easily to children. When meanwhile, He has probably been planning out everything in my life.
  "Sarah, when we get back can you come to my house? I want to talk privately with you if that's alright." I say, heart beating out of my chest.
  She looks at me for a moment, trying to read me, but I put the mask on, hiding my emotions from her. It's one of the only things I'm good at: hiding emotion. She looks slightly upset that I won't let her see into me, but she nods. I smile at her so she knows I'm not upset, and she smiles back at me in reply. We lose ourselves in each other for a moment, and it's now that I realize God gave me her. He gave me Sarah so that I could come back to Him again. I laugh a little at this. She looks at me slightly confused, which makes me smile even more and suddenly this wonderful sense of happiness and love overwhelms me entirely, and I can no longer sit still. I want to run on the beach, feel the water splash on my face, the cold chill sweep through my body. I want to hold onto Sarah and never let go.
  "Mr. Williams, may we please be dropped off at the beach instead? It's a beautiful day and I have some religious things to talk about with your daughter." I say, sounding polite so I can try getting on his good side. He looks at us through the mirror for a second, thinks, and says,   "Alright, but only until dinner: then walk back okay?"
  "Yes sir, of course." I say, firmly. He smiles at me through the mirror, and I look at Sarah. Although we aren't talking, it's as if I already know what she's saying through her eyes. 'The eyes talk a lot more than the mouth does' my dad used to say; now I know what he means.

  The beach was an awesome choice. There's barely anyone here and the water is cool, just like the breeze on my face. I grab Sarah's hand and for the first time, she doesn't seem to want to pull away. This brings a nice, warm sensation through my body. We take off our shoes and walk along the beach, feeling the soft, hot sand against our cold toes. Every once in a while, the tide comes and tickles our feet, but it feels nice and just barely comes over my ankles.
  "Sarah, what if I told you that God talked to me today?" I ask, casually. She laughs a little.
  "If you told me that, I might tell you I really love you and that I'm glad." Her reply shocks me. Is this all I had to do? All I had to do to get the girl of my dreams was to find God and be happy again. How ironic.
  "Well, if you loved me, would you trust me with your heart completely? Know that I would never let you fall?" I ask, voice softer.
  "I trust that you would always be there to catch me." She smiles. I bring us to a complete stop, and grab both of her hands. She stares up at me, lost by this sudden halt. Her eyes glitter and gleam like a child's.
  "And what if I told you that I loved you, not just because you are beautiful, or sweet, or loving, or fragile, but because I would never have found God if it weren't for you." I say quietly, slightly asking, but more like telling her this. She smiles softly.
  "Then I could say that God has a plan for us all, and right now he wants me with you. To guide you, to cherish you, and to love you." She whispers. And then, she does the unexpected. She kisses me on the cheek. I don't think she's allowed to do this yet, but I also don't think she cares-- and I love it. Her soft touch makes my entire body go numb. All I feel is my left cheek being marked with cherry lip gloss.
  "Now, about being so fragile," she says, pulling away and letting go of my hands. "How 'bout we race to the end of the shore and up to the dock?" She asks, energetic, pretending to warm up. I laugh.
  "Oh but Sarah, I don't want to see you cry." I say, faking sincerity. She laughs and bolts for the dock.
  "Really? Because I think I'm already halfway there!" She yells, pretending to be so far away, yet she's only a few feet ahead. She laughs again and so do I, running to take the lead, but all of the sudden she bolts for it, refusing to lose. I try to catch up, but she's a lot faster than I thought. This catches me off guard, so I start running faster until my legs start to burn. I don't dare stop or slow down.
  It's a long way to the dock. We have been running for fifty billion years I swear, but we're only three quarters of the way there. I'm not used to running like this; partying all night doesn't require running a mile on a beach with steaming sand sticking to the bottom of your feet. It's still a pretty close race, but I think she's winning. The thought of being beaten by my new girlfriend is suddenly unbearable and I sprint, hard. My chest, legs, feet, eyes-- everything is on fire.

Keep going, almost there.
Come on, a few more steps.
Go go go.
Push push push.
  I collapse onto the sand right by Sarah, beaten and exhausted. I lost. I want to talk, but my lungs won't let me say a word. We wait to catch our breath: I close my eyes, focus on my breathing. Deep breaths. I finally open my eyes, and turn my head to the angel that I now know is a descendant from Sonic. 
  "Looks like-I'm not so-fragile anymore." She pants, small laughs running through each word.
  "I-I guess not." I say, out of breath and laughing just like her.
  "So, now you know-never to call-me fragile." Her eyes are beaming again.
  Once we both catch our breath, we head back to our houses for dinner. It's only about a ten minute walk from the beach, and the sun is just setting; it's truly beautiful. When we reach her house, I hug her nice and tight and whisper, "see you at school, princess."
  "See you at school, prince." She whispers back.