His hand slips into mine. There is something beautiful about the way our finger thread together, and I wonder vaguely if we’ll need scissors to cut us apart. Then again, I’m thinking we’re not planning on letting go of each other any time soon.



I turn to look at him, and his eyes are peering back at me, bright and full of courage, from under the edge of his big, black umbrella. I tighten my hold on the curved handle of my own, and offer him a smile; if he can look so hopeful and unafraid, I’m going to do my best to do the same.



It’s not even raining, but they help us to match the night. Beneath the solid cement on which our feet rest, the water is murmuring, whispering. I don’t know what it’s telling us, but it sounds so sincere.



He brings my hand to his lips, and the kiss is soft. I whisper, “I love you” without thinking about it. I haven’t had to think about that in a long time. I don’t dare to look at him, because I’m afraid if I do, I’ll just cry, and neither of us could stand that now.



He seems to understand. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s love in everything he does; it’s how I first realized that we shared this common devotion for each other. He never had to say, “I love you.” He just looked at me in that way he does, and I smiled and said, “I love you too.”



That’s the way it is now. But, he doesn’t even have to look at me. I just know. I can feel every ounce of it in the way he’s standing, like he’s leaning just a little bit toward me. There’s something about his silence that seems like he’s waiting for me to change my mind. I grip his hand a little more tightly.



“Together?”



His voice is bubbling with so many secrets and promises, and for some reason, the future doesn’t scare me nearly as much as it used to. No matter how little time we have, because we knew it wouldn’t be forever, we’re going to make the most of it. I nod. I grip his hand. When I dip my head to look into the water, I can’t see anything. I think maybe that’s for the best.



“Just take a step, babe.” The affection in his voice tells me how scared I must seem. I’m infamous for my lack of fear, but here I am. Here we are. I’m one step away from eternity. Just have to lift my foot. “No jumping required.”



I think about how I didn’t fall in love with him at all. It was one giant leap into an abyss that would swallow us both whole. This way is fitting. This way was always best. We decided that years ago. I finally turn to look at him. It takes a whole lot of courage, but I can barely see him through the darkness anyway. His hand is trembling in mine, and somehow, it gives me courage to know he’s scared too. If we’re together, we can overcome anything. We’ve told each other that our whole lives. Now, when we have to prove it, there’s no reason to be scared.



“Together?”



My voice sounds strange – hollow and full of light. I’m trying. He knows it; I can hear the smile in the way he’s breathing.



One, two, three. We lift our feet together, and then we’re over the edge. Our umbrellas catch the wind, but they don’t really slow our descent. His hand is still grasping mine. I’m not screaming. The wind whistling through my head is keeping me from being able to tell if he is, but I doubt it. This whole thing has been so soft and silent; making sound now would ruin it.



It all seems so slow-motion. My heart is beating so wildly, but my eyes are on him. I’ve only ever had eyes for him. He looks over at me, smiling, gleeful, and the water crashes over our heads. I don’t feel the cold. I can imagine the way our umbrellas are twirling away from us upside-down across the water. It’s beautiful.



I wonder if we even made a splash.