Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

It fucks you up, competing against low expectations. Nothing feels like a win.

“I heard a goose.” I stop abruptly, my shoes scraping against the stone-covered path. I stare up at him in disbelief, my lips parting into a grin that I have to stifle before it becomes a laugh. “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.” I try to hold the laugh in. I really do. But I fail. Miserably. I burst.

Bo checks his watch, then looks back at me, then the coffee table, as if he’s calculating something. Then he looks back to his watch again. It’s strangely endearing how much this information has rocked him. “Okay, if we start now, we can make it through the extended edition of Fellowship of the Ring before midnight.” “Midnight?” I ask wearily. “How long is it?” “It’s probably better that you don’t know.” He stands abruptly, moves to circle the couch, then stills. “I cannot believe I’m having a baby with a Lord of the Rings virgin,” he says, near whispering. “This is amazing….” He takes off jogging toward his bedroom. “I swear you were less excited to have sex with me than you are right now!” I call after him. “Honestly? Maybe!” he shouts back from down the hall.

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.