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A LEAP OF FAITH

W e take a drive to the opposite end of the coast, because Timmy wants to show me a few new beaches and maybe check out some board shorts and hats in the surf shops to understand the trending designs.

As soon as we get to the small town, I notice Timmy staring intently at a metal bridge right beside the welcome sign. The sun is already dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows over the water. The bridge’s high arches loom over the rippling surface. Usually, seeing water brings me calm, but Timmy’s been agitated, edgy today, as if something is on his mind.

I see Timmy staring at the bridge with an intensity I haven’t seen since he first met me, and with a sinking feeling, I realize I know what he’s about to say before he says it.

“Can I jump off the bridge?” He points to a little space to the side of the road where the truck could fit. “Please? We could just park over there. I’ll only take a minute.” His voice carries a familiar hint of excitement.

“No, Timmy,” I frown, my stomach twisting into a knot. Not this again. Not now. “You said you’d stopped jumping off bridges now. That it’s dangerous, remember? You said that now you’re with me, you valued your life more and so you wouldn’t do it again.”

I truly believed him when he said those things. That being with me was more important than a reckless fixation.

But he pouts as I speak, his brow furrowing like a two-year-old being denied a second cookie. “You’re so fucking controlling. I’m a grown-ass man. I should be able to jump off a stupid fucking bridge. Plus, it’s not even that big of a bridge. And I brought my Superman cape and everything.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like the cape is going to somehow make him fly.

I shake my head. “No I’m not. You promised me you wouldn’t do something. That thing happens to be really dangerous. I believed your promise, and so—no. I’m not going to be complicit in you breaking that promise. You need to respect my boundaries, or why tell me anything at all? I’ll just stop believing a word you say.”

This is about so much more than jumping off a stupid bridge—it somehow feels symbolic of our entire relationship.

He mocks me, mimicking my tone. “I’m not going to be complicit in you breaking that promise.” He glares. “Don’t use your big fucking words to be a bitch, Margaux. You’re no fucking fun.”

“Yes, I am. I just don’t want you to die.” I keep my voice gentle and steady, even though I feel like I’m about to vomit. “Because you’re amazing and I love you.”

Maybe if I appeal to him with how special he is to me, he’ll get over this sudden, spontaneous impulse. I mentally cross my fingers that this will placate him, at least for now.

He sighs, looking at me. “Okay. I won’t jump off the bridge today.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

Two hours later

“Can I jump off the bridge now? ”

It’s been two hours, and Timmy has had a hard seltzer, and seems to have forgotten our prior conversations.

“No,” I frown. “We talked about this. You promised you’d stop asking.”

Timmy lets out an exaggerated sigh. He mutters under his breath. “Oh my fucking god. It’s not even that high. Way to make a big deal out of nothing.” There’s something dangerous underneath his words—something that sets me on edge.

For a moment, he just stares at me, as if he’s really having a problem with why I don’t want him to break yet another one of my boundaries. “Of course,” he continues to complain. “You’re always such a fucking killjoy. God forbid I’m ever allowed to do anything fun.”

We get to another beach. “Here, let’s park in this parking lot,” he says. It’s busy, and we have to wait a while, but eventually someone pulls out.

“I’ll be right back!” Timmy says, jumping out of the car in a hurry. “I just need to jump off something.”

“Wait, wha?—.”

“You’re so fucking controlling,” he scoffs, cutting me off. “I’m going to go jump off that rock over there. It’s not as high as the bridge. And you’d better still be here when I get back. You always act like I’m some reckless child you need to babysit. God forbid you’d ever allow me to do anything exciting. I’m fucking going.”

I try to plead with him, but he’s already gone. And I see him off in the distance, clambering up a rock face and joining the queue of tourists eager to get their vacation stunt moves snapped. And hopefully not their backs.

Actually, this jumping area looks a lot safer than some random bridge.

But still, I feel like he was being duplicitous. Getting me to park here under the guise of taking me to a new beach, when really he was planning to get his way and jump off something.

It feels like he’s found a way to disrespect a boundary, to push a little further, by sidestepping the specific thing I didn’t want him to do and doing something very similar, but not exactly the same. Semantics, in a way.

He’s right, though. This is something I’m uptight about and I don’t really understand. I spent so many years hearing my mother saying ‘never jump into random bodies of water. There could be a rock. I know so and so broke their spine doing that’. I’m probably being neurotic, passing along my own issues because my mother is overprotective and tends to spew random myths like they’re absolute truths. That’s not his fault. I just need to calm down.

But the way he’s gone about it has me feeling a type of way and I can’t one hundred percent figure out why. Jeez. Maybe I’m the one with the mood disorder.

I just want him to be safe. His words still sting, even after a few minutes. I’m truly not trying to control him. I just don’t think risking his life is ‘exciting’. And I’d like to think that if my partner promises me he won’t do something because it makes me feel uncomfortable, that he’ll stick with that. Not nag at me until I give in and ‘let’ him do that thing. It just doesn’t feel respectful of me or my boundaries.

He comes back, and he’s thrilled.

“Man, that makes me miss the bigger jumps!” he says, his eyes sparkling.

Then he turns to me, his expression growing serious. “And I’m sorry, Margaux. For what happened earlier. I really appreciate you letting me do this here. It makes me really happy. And this one was safe. I appreciate you caring about me. And I love you.”

His words throw me. I was expecting him to be more aggressive, more arrogant about going against what we’d talked about.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you had a good time.” I feel defeated, unable to talk to him about how I truly feel. And somehow, deep down, I have a feeling he knows that, and that he’s enjoying every minute of making me squirm.

Because somehow he’s done it again, spun the narrative against me. Turning my concern into control, and my love into suffocation. Making it seem like I’m toxic for expecting him to keep a boundary that he promised. Jumping off a cliff might seem like a little thing, but to me, it’s not about the cliff.

And it feels like there’s no point forcing the issue.

Because Timmy’s already lost too deep in his own storm.