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It was the third time that Desi had sung Mac her mother’s song.
The first time was when they were suspended among lightning above what felt like an endless drop, the second time was after a nightmare as she’d held him in the dark until his tears and racking shudders ended, and the third time Desi sung to Mac they were curled up on Mac’s sofa together in a twist of limbs and affection. The leather of the couch was comfortable with age and wear beneath them. Mac had bought the sofa because he could stretch his long legs out on it without his feet dangling off the end. Two people could sprawl across it if they stayed close with one person almost entirely laying on top of the other. Mac and Desi had perfected the position when they were dating and fell back into it without a thought when they climbed onto the sofa after arriving, hand in hand, at Mac’s house.
They’d eased to sitting then listed to the side, pressing their tired bodies together and wrapping themselves up in each other until they were perpendicular with no space between them.
They’d kissed. They’d kissed again. Then through unspoken agreement they’d rested against each other, holding one another silently until Desi started to sing.
It wasn’t that they were scared. They were being cautious. Considered. They’d walked the road in front of them before and it had led each of them to separate destinations.
“Have you ever heard of desire paths?” Mac said into the quiet.
“Mmm?” Desi hummed with a little shake of her head like she was pulling herself out of a doze.
“Desire paths, they’re what the trails that people leave behind when they take a route that goes off the sidewalk are called. They're shortcuts created by the footsteps of everyone who’s chosen to walk where they want rather than where they’re told to by concrete and urban planners.”
“No, I'd never heard of them until right now.” Desi let out an amused puff of breath. “You know, I’ve just this second realised how much I’ve missed your random asides. The last time I heard someone come out with a completely unexpected non sequitur was when my Uber driver told me about his bunions in great detail.”
“Delightful.”
“It was.”
“Did you give him five stars?”
“I had to – I felt sorry for him, that poor man is a martyr to his feet."
They both laughed. They used to laugh with each other all the time. Mac had forgotten about that in the mess that was their break up. For someone who knew sixteen different ways to break a man’s arm Desi had a surprisingly goofy sense of humour.
“So what has you thinking about desire paths?” Desi asked. “With a name like that they sound like they should have a pot of gold or a magical munchkin at the end.”
“I was thinking that there are paths people take because they’re supposed to, paths they take because they can and some they walk along because they choose to.”
“You’re thinking about going where you should, going with the crowd and going with your instincts?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about not going the way you’ve gone before and finding a new way.” That’s what he and Desi needed to do, Mac thought. They’d walked a well-trodden road before - co-workers, friends, lovers, ex’s - this time they would have to place their feet carefully on new ground that potentially had pitfalls. They knew some of the steps to avoid – Mac wouldn’t give a bunch of flowers with the lyrics to the song Everyday written on the card as an apology since he now knew that Desi didn’t appreciate that particular gesture (although Mac didn’t really understand why, ‘I got lost, couldn’t find my way, and I guess there’s nothing more to say, love can make you blind, make you act so strange, but I’m here and here I will stay’ was what he’d wanted to tell her, what was wrong with using the wordsmithery of Phil Collins to say it?)
“So you’re thinking that we should go off road with this?” Desi grinned, lifting her head to rest her chin on Mac’s chest and look up at him, “Like, improvise?”
“I mean, I don’t actually know what that involves yet but yeah. Maybe we should talk more, be more honest and less guarded?”
“More reflective, less reactive, I can do that.” Desi said “I’m pretty sure I can do that.”
She laid her head back down on Mac’s shoulder, resting her cheek against the scars marking his skin. She often rested her head against the marks bullets had left on him and Mac wondered why. Maybe he would ask her since they were going to be practising openness and honesty; not straight away, it wasn’t the time, but soon.
“We’ll just have to keep working on it.” Mac brushed his fingers up and down Desi’s arm, over the art she wore on her skin. He knew the stories of some of her tattoos but not all of them. Some he knew represented memories and important moments, some were acknowledgements and memorials and some were there because of the shining glint of an impulsive moment. They’d talked about if he would ever get a tattoo and what he would have where but Mac had quickly decided that there was no reason to think about it. He knew that if he ever decided to get a tattoo it would be done spontaneously with an image that felt right in that moment. He couldn’t predict where, when or what that moment would be so there was no reason to wonder about it. He couldn’t imagine himself ever deciding to get tattooed but there was no way of knowing what was going to happen; Mac decided to never say never and left it at that.
“We can do that, we can focus.” Desi lifted a hand and made a definitive motion that looked a little like a karate chop.
Mac knew that was absolutely true. Desi could focus on a kiss or a caress in a way that made him feel like there was nothing else. Nothing else anywhere mattered or existed, not even inside his head. It was glorious, like relief and freedom, and maybe last time Mac had become a little too reliant on her giving that to him without reciprocating. He’d been hurting and the pain had made him not selfish exactly, but unable to give of himself. Desi had grown resentful, he’d been defensive, they hadn’t found a way to discuss what they were feeling then they couldn’t be in the same room without grating against the other’s raw nerves. They could do better. This time they would be better.
“We can.” Mac kissed Desi’s hair.
Desi lifted her head to place a kiss on Mac’s chest. “We will. I’ve always been more of a road less travelled kind of girl.”
“Me too.” Mac said. “Except a boy of course.”
Mac felt Desi smile against his shirt, “Of course.”
Mac brushed his fingers up and down over Desi’s arm again, tracing the flow of coloured ink. She shifted a little until her head was tucked underneath Mac’s chin and they fit a little more perfectly against each other. There hadn’t been a lot of talking in the talk they were supposed to be having but that didn’t mean they hadn’t established lines of communication or agreed on any points. There would be words later, lots of them, as honest as they could both bear. It was nice to just be content, be together and just be.
Desi started to softly hum the song again, Mac could feel the vibrations of the notes through the hand he had resting on her back. He didn’t know what the song’s words meant, he’d never asked Desi to tell him. He suspected it was a lullaby and the verses were about the day being over, the stars being out, closing your eyes and drifting safely off to sleep but he didn’t need to know that for sure, the comfort he got from the song was from its simple rolling melody. It was pretty and gentle and that was enough.
Sometimes simple was enough. The repeated five notes of a lullaby. The shortcut between two destinations. He and Desi liking each other. There could be complications surrounding those things but at their core they were simple. He and Desi liked each other, they cared for each other and they wanted things to be good between them.
Mac wondered when the fourth time she sung him that song would be. He wondered if he knew it well enough to sing it to her if she needed to hear it. He’d never done that. Maybe he should try. Maybe the fact that he’d thought about doing that was a positive step along the new trail they were walking together.
Maybe – Mac thought, dragging out his metaphor a little further – maybe if their new path was made of things like words and a sweet little tune it wouldn’t be too hard to create. The steps didn’t need to be hewn from stone with hammers and back breaking toil, they could be created with conversations, honesty and acts of caring.
Desi’s song ended and Mac tightened his hold on her. She held him a little closer in reply and they lay together in silence.
Simple was good right then - with everything that was happening around them simply being in each other’s arms was what they both needed.
Simple was perfect.