Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

The disabled elite, if you will.

“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.

She’s wearing leggings and a cute, oversized sweater with the word Velaris written across it. I think that’s from a favorite book of hers, but if I ask, we’ll never get out of here on time.

Your contribution to the vibe is worth at least a few hundred bucks.”

“Yeah, I think I would. I know the timing isn’t exactly ideal, but if you lined up every other person in the world who I could’ve had a baby with, I’d choose you again. You’re going to be a fantastic mom, Win.”

Let me in, I want to say amidst the silence. Love me. Trust me. I won’t let you down. I swear it.

“You are my soul’s purpose, Win. To know you, to love you, to build a family with you, to spend every day taking care of you, to watch you shine and get all the good things you deserve out of this life.”

Robert Hugo August Durand,

Lastly, to my fellow disabled folks of all shapes, sizes, abilities, and understandings—we deserve love too. Most of all, we are worthy of it. But be sure to give it to yourself first.