The Beginning

Some time after the breakup, I began to feel like a person again. I returned to my hobbies, my life – it was all there waiting for me, you see, like a dog at the door: thank goodness you’re home. 

The sadness still found me, sometimes, as it does with grief, but I met those quiet moments with tenderness and a deep sense of knowing that I had found my path. I saw my friends, including Ethan, with whom I had begun to feel a strange sense of butterflies. We shared long days together, working side by side, indulging in art or enthusiastic performances of air guitar. “You’re my favorite person to hang out with,” he told me, and I wondered if he still meant as his best friend, or perhaps something more. 

And then one day, on the shores of Lake Washington, Ethan said, “I know maybe you’re not ready to hear this, but I think I’ll regret it if I don’t say something… I think you may be exactly what I'm looking for in a partner. You’re the most amazing person I've ever met, and even just being your friend is inspiring in the way you live your life. I think you need to be with someone who sees you like that." His words hung in the air, terrifying and beautiful.

"I feel the same way," I told him, an incredulous laugh slipping from my lips. "It’s probably too soon to do anything about it," he said, and I nodded quickly. But still, the feeling in my chest bloomed: that a generative, grounding, expansive love could someday be mine. It was a feeling of hope.

From Ethan’s journal, around this time: 

Feels Wright

Trying not to let myself mean too much, 

so that one day I might mean enough.

But with our heads close enough that you can feel the air compress the space between us, and the subtle touch of our shoulders pressed against each other as we lean into a shared story, I can feel myself unraveling in her midst. 

Like a ball of yarn whose colors burst in every direction as it falls on the floor: here I am, left trying to calmly roll it all back up and neatly put it back inside my shouting heart. 

But that's okay.

In fact, it's perfect

to be simply enchanted 

and watch yourself spellbound at a distance, 

where the gravity of her gently tugs at me

Yet we still have ourselves to orbit,

but maybe one day, 

drawn by a kiss or an endless stare into each others eyes, 

we might collide and become entangled, 

winding our way through the universe, 

like two autumn leaves dancing around each other as they fall towards home.

And then one day, a text: If you don't have any plans, you should come over to my house tonight. I’m having people over. 

—

The gathering is small, and the people are kind. I know most of them from other events Ethan’s hosted before, and I spend the night chatting with friends from Ethan’s college. As the night wanes, someone begins to play music videos on the massive projector screen mounted on the living room wall. 

Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, we find ourselves alone and lying on the giant beanbag chair in the living room. We are talking about life and love, as we always do, while the stretches of silence build between us alongside the growing feeling of nervousness in my stomach. 

“We’re going to jump off a cliff.” I say, my voice quiet, like I can’t quite believe it. 

“Isn’t that what this year is all about?” He asks in the same quiet voice. 

I nod, and we return to our silent stare for a moment, a heartbeat. 

Our faces are an inch apart. 

And then he kisses me — quick and soft, it is there and it is gone. 

I am overcome with fear and with delight and with the sense that something in me has been lit on fire. 

And so… we jumped.