Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

“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.

“Celebratory?” I ask. “What are we celebrating?” “Your new plan. The kid you’re growing. You, in general.”

“You’d choose this?” I ask, feeling the start of tears sting my eyes. I want to say, Me? You’d choose me? “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.”

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.

“I’d do it all over again to be at that party,” he says. “To meet you. To get Gus.”

But I like that about us humans. How willfully blind we can be to the gloomy realities ahead.

“You’re perfect, Win,” Bo says, as easily as breathing. “Of course I’d want them to have every part of you.”

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

Because when you love someone this much, when you’ve seen their hurt and their heart and you recognize them as your own—you’re left with no choice but to give yourself over to it.

“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.”

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.”