Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

It’s horribly cliché, but his smile is beaming—far brighter than the sun. I feel myself bloom with it, as if it’s my own personal version of photosynthesis.

When in doubt, take a shower, my mother used to say. When in trouble, take a bath, Marcie would add.

“So…do we—do we get married?” “What?” I jump back. “No! What? Why would we get married? We don’t even know each other!” He sits straighter, blowing out a breath. “Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me just then.” “The ghost of your great-grandfather, evidently,” I say.

“We’re at a beach in Canada, Bo. You’re gonna hear geese,”

It’s so much easier to communicate insecurities when you don’t need to communicate them at all. Isn’t that all we ever want? To be seen and heard? Validated, even when we’re not able to ask for it.

“It’s not up to you to fix Jack’s mistakes….” “No,” Bo says, leaning down to kiss me just once, brushing his nose against mine. “But it is my job to love you the way you deserve to be loved from now on.”