Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

I whisper into my palms, covering my face. “I got knocked up by a pirate….” I say, my voice muffled by my hands. “Sorry, what?” The doctor’s tone alerts me to the very unusual thing I just said. I peek through my fingers at her. “It was Halloween. He was dressed as a pirate.” “Oh.” She sighs. “Were you intimate with anyone else that same month or shortly thereafter?” “No, just him.” “The pirate?” “Aye,” I whimper softly.

“I’m trying to find a delicate way to ask this, but…who’s the dad?” Ah, yes. The elephant in the room. Well, in the car. The elephant in the car. “I have a confession to make,” I say, wincing. She sits up straighter, putting two tight fists around the steering wheel, though the car’s still parked. “Ooh, what did you do?” she whispers, her eyes lit with mischievous curiosity. “Is it an affair? Is he much, much older? A mafioso? Your childhood best friend? Oh, wait—that’s me.” She reads too much, and it’s addled her brain.

According to him, Bo and Cora met when they were both interning at some finance gig. They didn’t really get to know each other until they were battling it out for a permanent position a year later. Honestly, it sounded like the start of one of Sarah’s romance novels, which only fueled my annoyance further. I know I have zero claim over the guy, but I don’t particularly enjoy him having an enemies-to-lovers meet cute with the Antichrist.

I think some people have loneliness built in. It often seemed that there was not enough attention in the world that could fill that void inside her. I worry that I only recognize that because I have it too.

I always knew I was loved. Even if I wanted the love from my mother delivered differently.

“You can’t change anything by hiding it. You’ll just look back on memories and realize you tried to erase yourself. And how sad that would be.”

Bo rubs two palms down his face, dragging his skin in their path. “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.

“There’s a difference between a handsome stranger in a dimmed bedroom after a few drinks and one in a hospital room standing between my stirrup-parted legs and looking into the eye of the storm.” “Did you just refer to your vagina as the eye of the storm?” “In that delivery room? Yes. That is what it will be.”

“No wonder you got pregnant. The guy had a direct line of sight to your ovaries! A clean shot!” “I’m buying you an anatomy book for Christmas.”

“Co-parents, I guess.” “But parents feels like a title reserved for when a kid is physically present,” Bo says. “No offense.” He speaks to my belly. “Let’s aim for friends?” I suggest. “Friends that are having a baby together.” “Yes. Friends with fetuses.”

“What are you thinking? Why are you looking so sad?” “The idea of having a constant supply of ice is making me a bit emotional,” I say, raising a slow finger to point at the fridge. “Your priorities are, as always, impeccable,” she says, pushing past me toward the hallway.

I miss feeling young and carefree and naïve. I wasted so much of that time wishing I was older. Waiting impatiently to get out and live my own life. But that never really happened. I just got older.

“Also, this was a great surprise.” “A fridge?” he asks, switching his bag between hands. I huff out a laugh. “No, dingus. The ice maker.” “Did you just call me a dingus?” “If the dingus-shoe fits.”

“I have to admit, I thought it’d be a bit longer before you read me like a book. I believed I had an air of mystery about me.” “You did. Until I saw the dork cave.” “Dork cave…okay…”

“We’re at a beach in Canada, Bo. You’re gonna hear geese,” I say, continuing to whisper for whatever absurd reason. “They hate me.” Bo turns his head toward a sound over the water to our left, his shoulders up to his ears. “They hate you….” “They go for my leg every time. I don’t know if it’s because it’s shiny and they like that, or if geese are just little ableist fucks, but they’re always trying to attack me.”

“Look, I know we don’t really know each other that well yet, and you don’t have reason to trust me with this, but I promise—this is fair. I can go over it with you some more, on my computer maybe, but regardless, this is as much money from you as I’m comfortable accepting. I’m very good at my job and typically honorable, but I did consider fudging the numbers when I saw your amount. I’d like to make things as easy as I can for you, Win. If I had it my way, you’d quit your job, put your feet up, and relax for the next few months.” “You want a kept woman,” I tease. “I certainly want to keep you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says compulsively, as if he’s been holding it back for far longer than a few seconds. “From now on, we will pretend the baby was an immaculate conception, and you’ll be my sexless pal Fred, if that’s what you want.” I hear a high-pitched ringing in my ear. The sound of my libido screaming for mercy, if I’m not mistaken.

“If our food doesn’t arrive soon, I’m going to eat my other hand,” I say, unfolding my napkin. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Bo says exaggeratedly. “You can eat mine. It’s far bigger.”

I press myself back into his chest, and he meets me immediately, wrapping himself around me like a shield. And we dance some more. To the sound of nothing but each other’s withering restraint. Accepting that this is the best thing that could have happened to us. To get us out of our own personal dark spots. To give us purpose. To find each other.

“We had to get to know each other, right? That was the whole fucking point of moving in together.” “And?” Sarah asks. “And what?” “Do you know each other?” She throws her arms up, apparently exasperated. “Yes.” “And?” “And what?” I snap, crossing my arms in front of my chest tightly. “Is he a good guy?” “Yes, obviously.” “And?” “Oh my god, what now?” “Do you feel safe with him?” “Yes.” “So?” “So what?” I yell. “Are you in love with him?” “Yes!” Wait, what?

“Joanna would have loved you, you know. You have her same…care. I can tell life has not been easy or always kind to you, but you haven’t let it turn you hard. Not like a stone. You became like water. You move with it all. You’re soft…but powerful.”

He looks scared, almost. Not sad. Not mournful. But scared. His jaw hardened and his eyes soft and held on me with a concern that has me wanting to smooth out the line between his brows with my thumb. More than that, actually. I wish I could take out his soul and smooth it out too, remove every wrinkle and crease and stain and give it back to him as good as new.

“Bo…I need to tell you something.” “You have to wait,” he says, grumbling, talking out the side of his mouth squished against my lap. “I want to say it first, but I’m too tired to do it properly right now. Later.” I smile so wide that it tilts my head back, pointing my face up to the ceiling. “Say what first?” I ask, brushing his hair back and trailing my thumb from the top of his ear down his neck. “Three big, important words. You know them, yes?” “No, sorry, I’m unfamiliar. You better wake up and tell me.”

“I love you, Win. I love you so much it makes me feel like I’ve hated everything else in my life up until now. Nothing compares to what I feel for you. Not even close.”

I kiss him because I’m grateful, even though I’m often terrible at showing it. I kiss him because he truly does want to take care of me. I kiss him because I think I’m going to let him. I kiss him because I love him. More and more each day.

“You look beautiful, Fred.” “You had to ruin that compliment, huh?” I say, letting my hands roam over his forearms. “I will start calling you Bob.” “You look beautiful, stunning, and downright ethereal…Fred.”

Reveling in the simple notion that he is real. That someone could love me this much. Choose to fill me up instead of pour me out. Build a fire to keep me warm instead of burn me out.

“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.” Bo ducks his head and reveals the small leather box in his hands, opening it to show me the most stunning, simple gold band. “Yes,” I say involuntarily, looking up to him. “Yes,” I repeat. He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “Can I ask first?” “Oh, yes. Sorry.”