After Hello by Lisa Mangum

some spiritual enlightenment. Daniel was there and we ended up talking for like an hour about the reality of God.”
    “What did you decide?”
    “Daniel said yes; Aces said no. I said I’d have to wait and see.”
    “And?”
    “I’m still waiting to see.” Sam stepped off the curb. He didn’t notice right away that Sara wasn’t following.
    “You don’t believe in God?”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “So you do believe in God.”
    “I didn’t say that, either. I said I’m waiting to see.”
    A car honked and Sam jogged out of the way. The dog tags around his neck chimed softly as they struck the St. Christopher medallion beneath his shirt. He ignored the sound they made.
    Sara waited until traffic cleared and then darted across the street.
    “What are you hoping to see? Do you think that God is going to make a personal appearance just for you? I thought the whole point of belief was that you didn’t see things first.”
    Sam stopped and turned to Sara. “Do you believe in God?”
    “Yeah, I guess so.”
    “But you don’t know?”
    “Well, I know I’d like to believe.”
    “Then why don’t you?”
    “I—” Sara closed her mouth. A small dimple appeared in her left cheek, a divot of frustration. After a moment, she pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes and continued walking. “Where did you say Aces was? At the station?”
    Sam squeezed his eyes shut. When would he learn to stop provoking people? They had been having a very nice conversation—she liked the Zebra Stripes; who knew?—and then he had to go and ruin it. Again. First that thing about her dad, now this thing about God. He should stick to safer topics. The weather. The city. The price of tea in China. Anything but what was actually on his mind.
    And that was what was killing him. Sara was smart and funny. She seemed genuinely interested in spending time with him. He could admit to himself that this was the best day he’d had in ages. Plus, she was easy to talk to—which was exactly what made her so dangerous.
    He hadn’t connected with a person so quickly since he’d met Alice. If he wasn’t careful, he would tell Sara about his life before New York. About Alice and the night that—
    No, he told himself firmly.
    But then, without warning, he added, Not yet.
    That word— yet —echoed in his mind and filled him with dread. It meant that some part of him had already decided to speak the words he had held silent for all these months. What’s more, it meant he had decided he would speak those words to Sara.
    Maybe that was why he kept directing the conversation to difficult topics even when Sara worked to pull them back to neutral ground. If she could handle a hard, point-blank conversation about God, then maybe she could handle an equally hard, point-blank conversation about him.
    Could she? Could he? He wasn’t sure he wanted to risk it.
    Not yet.
    “Sara,” he called out, running to catch up with her. His heart thudded in his chest out of rhythm with his steps. He reached out to touch her arm but stopped short of making actual contact. “Not that way. The station is this way.”
    She pivoted on her heel and followed him silently down the walk.
    The station bustled with activity. A large sign announced the different trains that stopped at the hub—B and C—and the staircase descending into the underground was wide with green rails.
    Sam grabbed the banister and hopped up on the bottom rail. With the extra few inches of height, he scanned the crowds. “I don’t see him,” he said after a moment. “He has really bright red hair, so he should be easy to spot.”
    Sara joined him on the rail, twisting and scanning alongside Sam. The ends of her brownish-blonde hair brushed past his face. It was soft, and he could smell her shampoo—something fruity and floral—along with the tang of exhaust. Even a sunshine girl like Sara couldn’t last long in New York without being touched by the city.
    “What’s that?” she asked,