Out of the Woods

by Hannah Bonam-Young

He’s so familiar to me now that I feel myself having to concentrate to truly see him.

choose to hope that maybe, just maybe, fate will have something kinder in store for us. That I’ll never need to know a day without Caleb, his ease, puns, or comfort, ever again. That, just maybe, I got lucky earlier than most.

And, after some time, it was hard to remember what life was like before Caleb

Every part of my psyche is flooded with worry that he won’t want to take that journey with me. That this—I—will be the end of us. What would that even look like? A life without him…

But I realize, upsettingly, that it’s been at least a few months since either of us have said I love you intentionally. We say it every day in routine. When we hang up a call, in the morning as Caleb leaves for work, and before we fall asleep—or, more accurately, before we roll onto our sides in bed to scroll on our phones.

I know Caleb is kind. I know he’s not the type of person who actively tries to harm someone. But just because he’s never trying to hurt me doesn’t mean he can’t

Caleb squeezes my hand twice in quick succession. When I turn to look up at him, he searches my face. “You okay?” he mouths. I nod weakly, but even still, he brings the back of my hand to his mouth and kisses across my knuckles.

I’ve applied enough mosquito repellent to catch on fire if someone lights a cigarette four towns over, but the fuckers are still after me.

I decide to leave him to whatever dissociative survival mode he’s fallen into. About an hour ago I began pretending I was in a fantasy novel, and this was my unlikely band of heroes on a righteous quest. But then my imagination got away from me and I almost made myself cry thinking about the love interest I lost in the war two years prior, who I’d sworn to avenge, so I had to come back to reality.

😂

Caleb lowers himself to one knee at the door of the tent and wordlessly begins untying my boots. He pulls one off, then the other, and places them outside before tearing off my socks,

So sweet 😭

Caleb smiles knowingly, his face still tilted up to the ceiling. “I brought it and a solar charger. I didn’t want you to lose your reading streak. Downloaded a couple of extra books too.” I gasp. I actually, audibly gasp.

Give me books, sunlight, water, and a handsome man looking at me like I’m some rare jewel, and I’m all set. Especially when it feels like a long time since I’ve shined for him.

He is,” I start slowly. “Intelligent, driven, nerdy, a bit of a workaholic…he’s…” the right word is on the tip of my tongue, but it escapes me. “Soft” is what I land on. “He cares deeply. He protects out of love, not dominance.

Do you think it would have been easier without him? Your early twenties?” I instinctively shake my head no, then once I give it some thought, do so again. “I’ll always be grateful that I had him through that time of my life.

His eyes hold on mine, filling with emotion I don’t recognize—which frightens me.

I begin wondering what is worse: being overly familiar with each other or fading into strangers who used to know it all.

it’s been like one shitty revelation after the next as to how miserable you are. I guess I’ve been naïve,” he says, licking his lips as his eyes hold on the fire. “But it doesn’t feel like so long ago that you and I were this unbreakable, undoubtable thing. I put so much stock in that. Maybe it means I was lazy, or it means that I haven’t been paying enough attention to you but—god, Sarah—I miss feeling settled, don’t you?”

I never thought we’d have to start again.” He speaks toward the hollow space between us. “I never wanted to start again. It’s scary and frustrating and uncomfortable

I have a hard time being present,” I admit. “I’m usually either dwelling on the past or worrying about the future.”

feel directionless, because I don’t really know my own feelings or wants or desires. I just sort of live in some…middle. Not really pleasing myself or performing what is expected of me.”

A lot of people will say relationships are fifty-fifty, but I think that’s a load of rubbish. We all have seasons and periods where we require more from our partner. The trick to a long, lasting relationship in my professional experience is not getting stuck at a set percentage.”

And I realized I was actually feeling relieved. You got angry with me for real. Of course, it didn’t feel great in the moment but I’m glad that you expressed yourself instead of sitting with it alone.

“If you give me the space to grow, I’ll plant myself next to you. Always.”

😭

And I hope that if you have to rewrite your life, you won’t erase my part in it, that you’ll let me stay a part of your story.”

Great to be on the same page. Great to laugh together. Great to romanticize a quiet, less busy, more present life. Great to imagine a future that prioritizes connection over profit and communication over avoiding conflict. Great to be together without distraction.

“You inherited Marcie’s heart, sure, but…you use it well. It suits you. It is you. And your heart is mine in the way that our home or our neighborhood or my favorite movie is mine. Mine but not for me alone. Your heart is mine to care for, to treasure. But it will never be just mine.”

“Number three,” Caleb repeats, beginning to smile. “There are so many things we could have gotten rid of to help the environment before ousting plastic straws. Paper straws are a sensory nightmare.” “That was a passionate one,” Phil says between boisterous chuckles, nodding. “Really getting fired up now,” he adds.

“I didn’t say anything,” I respond. When he looks up at me, smugness radiates from him like steam wafting off of hot cement. “Nine times out of ten you say a lot more by saying nothing at all,” he says from a crooked mouth.

You want me to go beat up that bridge? I’ll do it. Just say the word.” “The rock,” he answers. “Okay, I’ll beat the shit out of that rock as soon as the medics arrive.” “Good,” he whispers with the hint of a weary smile. “Fight for my honor.” “I will,” I say,

I close my eyes and attempt to pray. After all, desperate prayer is the only kind I’ve ever known and this, by far, is the most desperate I’ve ever felt.

But I know now that if there is someone or something out there…I can’t rely on them as I once did. I have to believe, moving forward, that they are as human as me, as powerless. Because anyone who had more control than I do, more ability to intervene, to save, to help, wouldn’t allow so much suffering. I have to believe that.

Thank you for Caleb. Thank you for bringing him into my life exactly when I needed him. For allowing me to find my soulmate earlier than most so I would never have to be alone. Thank you for making him kind. Thank you for my mother, for the time I had her. Thank you for this one, beautiful, messy shot at life. I promise to not waste another moment of it.

“We’re getting old, Linwood,” I tease. “No, baby,” he says, tucking his chin against my neck, those aged but familiar features that I love so much burrowed into the side of my face. “We’re just getting started.”