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Touch is the first language we speak – Steve Gaskins
Mac closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of buttered popcorn.
If the sweet tang of cranberry sauce meant Thanksgiving, the warm yeasty scent of baking meant a visit from Nana Bea, and the sharp prickle of gas and metal meant the school science labs and new knowledge, then the creamy aroma of buttered popcorn meant fun, laughter, shared time on the sofa with Jack, and the companionship of his friends.
He loved the smell, it never failed to make him smile.
Jack liked to make his own buttered popcorn, melting a large slab of butter in one pan as corn kernels burst noisily in another.
“I should get one of those clear saucepans,” Jack almost always said as clangs and crashes rattled the closed metal lid of the popcorn pan. “We would be able to see what’s happening, it must be like the fourth of July in there.” Once the racket finished he’d pour the butter onto the newly popped corn with decadent glee saying, “Oh yes, look at that!”
The drive in theatre’s popcorn wasn’t as good as Jack’s but it was still pretty good, and Mac and Katie had bought a large bucket to share.
“You’re going to the drive-in movie theatre?” Jack had grinned when Mac had explained his plans. “That’ll be fun. There was one time when I…” he'd stopped, looked hard at Mac and Mac had seen in the shift of his features exactly when he'd reconsidered telling whatever story he was about to impart, “maybe that’s a tale for another time, when you’re older. In fact,” Jack had narrowed his eyes and hummed, “forget I said anything.”
“You haven’t said anything,” Mac had said.
“Good. That’s probably for the best.”
Mac and Katie had both wanted to see the movie that was playing, they’d been looking forward to it, but twenty five minutes in they were exchanging glances.
“So, this is kind of stupid,” Mac offered.
“And badly acted and clichéd,” Katie agreed. “And I could live without the music telling me what I’m supposed to be feeling every ten seconds.”
They cuddled together to watch the movie anyway, making fun of it with sarcastic comments and mocking imitations.
“I wonder if that character dressed all in black with a scar through one eyebrow is the bad guy?”
“Hi, I’m wearing glasses and have slightly unkempt hair! I’m a movie nerd!”
“Oh no! I hope no one kidnaps that scientist, he’s the only person who knows how to disarm the sonic nuclear death ray machine of doom!”
Katie rested her head against Mac’s shoulder, grumbling about how the team of super friends they were watching who were battling to save the world only had one woman in it and she was wearing impractical high heeled shoes.
“You need to be wearing solid, flat soled boots to save the galaxy,” she muttered, shuffling closer to Mac and resting against his chest with a sigh, “or at least a pair of sneakers. Princess Leia never wore stilettos.”
“She wore a gold bikini," Mac said.
“And she choked the giant slug who made her wear it to death,” Katie replied brightly.
“That is true.”
Katie fell quiet after that, and Mac could feel her weight against him grow heavier and heavier as she leaned further into him. One of the other waitresses from the diner had been sick so she’d been working extra shifts, and when Mac had picked her up she’d smiled blearily at him with shadowed eyes. She’d insisted she was fine and that she’d been looking forward to seeing him, but her long week was apparently catching up with her. It was warm and comfortable in the truck and soon after she’d curled into him Mac heard her breaths slow and deepen.
“Katie?” he asked softly.
She didn’t answer.
“Katie, are you asleep?”
Katie stayed silent. She shifted slightly then signed, the hand she’d rested on Mac settling into a soft curl that cupped his arm.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
For most of Mac’s life physical affection had been something he hadn’t known. For him touch had been either functional - by a doctor or a dentist - or unwanted and frightening. Until he’d met Jack Mac didn’t know what it was like to be held, to be touched with love for fun or to affirm a connection. Jack was lavish with his physical assurances and it had taken a while to adapt but now Mac relied on that.
Jack’s touch was paternal, it spoke of the love and care of a parent to a child. Katie was Mac’s friend, his girlfriend, and touching with her was different; it was more equal in a way, less about care being bestowed and more about affection being shared. Mac had enjoyed gently exploring the new experience of contact with her - cupping her elbow, holding hands and then the kissing which was utterly lovely. He had carefully scrutinised each new type of touch, wanting to understand and examine everything about it. The smile Katie gave him as he thoughtfully twined his fingers in hers, feeling the softness of her palm, skirting his fingers round the healing burn from where she’d caught herself on the grill at work, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the sharp curve of the top of her nails, was indulgent but pleased. Mac hoped her smile meant that she knew he was doing what he was doing because he liked, respected and treasured her. He thought she did.
On the drive-in’s screen a building exploded sending fire billowing and glass raining down and the movie’s super friends dashed into the blaze to rescue the people trapped inside. Debris fell, flames roared, the hero with the huge biceps yelled at a screaming woman dangling from a railing to hold tight, and Katie slept on, too tired to notice the dramatics.
Mac didn’t mind that Katie had fallen asleep. It didn’t make their date the most exciting one ever but it was nice, cosy. Having her asleep in his arms was almost like a gift. It felt intimate, a closeness born of trust, and Mac understood why sometimes when he woke from napping while they were watching TV together Jack would look at him with a soft happiness in his eyes.
“I’ve got you!” Huge Bicep Guy told the screaming woman after she’d fallen with extra loud screams into his arms. “Everything’s okay now.”
In Mac’s arms Katie let out a soft hum. She snuffled, quite endearingly, and twitched gently. Then she raised her head a little, blinking and rubbing her cheek into Mac’s chest. “Did I fall asleep?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Oh God!” Katie sat up and looked around her, “How awful!” she blushed and pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, ugh!” Katie buried her face in her hands. “I’m the worst date ever. Did I snore?”
“You’re not the worst date ever,” Mac took hold of Katie’s hands and lowered them until he could see her downcast eyes and flushed cheeks, “and you were fine. No snoring, no drooling.”
“Well, that’s not too bad then, it could be worse, I guess. I’m still sorry though.”
“It’s fine. You’re cute when you’re asleep," Mac said.
Katie looked up at him through her eyelashes, she blushed again.
“It’s true,” Mac said. She was. Cute. Warm. Precious. His.
They shared a smile as soft as the way Katie had felt in Mac’s arms then she turned to look out at the movie that was still playing. “Did I miss the end?”
“No,” Mac told her, “they’re going to do something brave and reckless to defeat the bad guys now.” The team of misfit heroes were assembling on screen looking determined and badass while a dramatic orchestration swelled.
“Oh okay, let’s see what happens then.” Katie kissed Mac on the cheek, then rested her head back on his shoulder and turned to watch the movie’s thrilling climax.
Mac turned the engine of the truck off. Katie’s street was quiet, porch lights were on and her neighbours were all tucked up at home. He and Katie were the only people around.
“You don’t have to walk me to my door,” Katie said.
“I know,” Mac told her, “but I like to. It’s polite and I want to make sure you get home safely.”
Katie smiled at him, tipping her head to the side.
“I’m not doing a sexist, ‘I think you need a man to look after you because you’re a girl’ thing!” Mac said. “I know you don’t need me to walk you home, I just want to. Next time we go out you can drive and then walk me to my door when you take me home.” He grinned.
“What do you think Jack would say about that?” Katie asked. “He’d find it hilarious.”
Mac imagined telling his dad that Katie had walked him home from their date. “He’d laugh but I think he’d like the idea. He’d probably ask Diane to walk him home the next time they went out.”
“He would wouldn’t he? He’d probably love it, he’d get her to take his arm and lead him around puddles.”
Jack would. Mac could imagine him being tickled by the whole idea. Diane would probably enjoy it too. Maybe he would tell Jack about it.
“Come along then, kind sir,” Katie said. “Your lady awaits.” She opened her door with a flourish and climbed out of the truck and into the street.
Mac stepped out of the truck and walked round it to meet her halfway. When he was in front of Katie he bowed like Robin Hood greeting Maid Marian.
“My lady.” he said, offering her his arm.
Katie threaded her arm through his, “Why thank you my liege, " she said, and they walked along the path to her door together.
Katie was shorter than Mac by a couple of inches and that gave their relationship a new dynamic for him to consider. Jack was taller than Mac, his hands were bigger, and he was more muscular. Mac was used to his physical interactions being with people who were larger and stronger than him, even the positive ones with Jack. He’d worried about touching Katie at first, worried about hurting her. A touch could become something that left a mark, and a grip could hurt if it became too tight, and while Mac would never intentionally do anything to harm Katie what if he was clumsy or too rough and he did? He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever left bruises on her or made her cry out in shocked pain. He wasn’t used to being the stronger one and didn’t know how to be sure he was careful enough. Jack knew how to hold on in a way that was firm but brought comfort rather than causing fear, but Jack had been practicing carefully using his strength his entire life and Mac was only just learning. He didn’t want to get it wrong.
“Jack,” he’d asked one day as they were carrying a delivery into the stable. He’d carefully chosen that time to ask his question. Bringing in and putting away the supplies would keep them both busy so they’d have plenty to do to prevent him having to look directly at his dad as he talked. He blushed, mortified, but ploughed on, determined to ask his question. “With girls, they’re smaller and usually not as strong as us, you know, men, so, I mean, how do you make sure that you don’t hurt them. Not when you’re doing anything, like, anything, well that too, but just, when you’re with them.”
Jack froze, clutching a packet of cat food to his chest, and stared at Mac. “Okay,” he said. He drew a hand slowly down his face. “Okay,” he said again. “Have you and Katie been…?”
“No!” Mac answered quickly. “Nothing like that. But she’s littler than me and sometimes I worry that,” Mac cringed, but the only way to say this was to just say it, “I worry that I don’t know how to be sure I don’t hurt her.” The words stumbled out in a rush. “I don’t want to hurt her.”
Jack put the cat food in it’s place with such slow, careful precision that Mac knew he was using the time to consider his answer. When the box was on it’s shelf Jack stood in silence with his hand still holding it.
Mac shoved a tub of disinfectant powder into a cupboard, burning with shame. He was glad he’d asked his question though, it felt good to get the worry out.
“Right.” Jack turned around. “There are several things I have to say to answer your question, kiddo. And in no particular order they are: why would you say you don’t know how to be gentle? I’ve seen how you are with the horses and with Cassie. Do you think they would trust you as much as they do if they didn’t feel safe with you?” Jack’s expression was earnest. “Do you think Pepper would put up with anything other than the most caring and respectful behaviour? And if Hal thought you weren’t safe he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him.”
“Oh," Mac breathed.
Jack left a moment of silence for his comment to sink in. He raised his eyebrows.
As Mac considered Jack’s revelation Herschel trotted into the storeroom, he could hear the rattle of cat food from one thousand paces and had clearly heard the delivery being sorted and thought it was worth checking out if a snack was available. He rubbed himself around Jack’s ankles until Jack picked him up, scratched him behind an ear then put him down on a pile of blankets. Herschel settled into a furry ball, ready for a nap, but Mac noticed that he kept one eye open to watch the room just in case something tasty was offered or fell on the floor.
“And our Katie,” Jack picked up a sack and put it on a pile in the corner of the storeroom, “I’m pretty sure that if there was something she wasn’t happy about she’d tell you. That’s the key, see? You need to talk about stuff. Have you told Katie you’re worrying about this?”
Mac shook his head. “No, I didn’t know what to say.”
“With Diane,” Jack sighed, he moved another sack, frowning and clearly wondering how much to tell Mac to get his point across without compromising Diane’s privacy. “Diane hasn’t always had a lot of luck with men, she’s been with people who have been unkind and manipulative so she was wary when we got together. I’ve been real careful with her, getting to know her slowly and respectfully and letting her know that she should tell me if anything is bothering her. She trusts me now and we’ve built a good, strong relationship.”
“And you think I should be like that with Katie? Respectful and stuff? I already am, you know, respectful, so you think I should be extra respectful?” Mac frowned. “How can I be extra respectful, call her ma’am something, because that might be weird.”
Jack threw up his hands as if he was trying to stem the flow of his son’s overactive mind. “Just tell her that it’s important to you that she’s happy and that she should say if she ever feels uncomfortable. The same goes for you as well, you get to say if you ever feel like something is difficult for you."
“And you think doing that will work? It’ll be enough?”
Jack kicked the sack into place and smiled. “To be honest, son, the fact that you’re worrying about treating Katie right means that you care enough about her to treat her right, right?”
That made sense, actually. “Right.”
“Cause if you didn’t care, then you wouldn’t care, but you do care, so you’ll act with care.”
“I think there are rules about not using the same word that many times in a sentence.” Mac felt better, he was still a little embarrassed but what Jack had just said did make sense even if he had broken a couple of grammatical rules to say it. Since Mac wanted to be good to Katie he would work hard at being good to Katie. The logic there was reassuring.
Jack snorted. “Rules are meant to be broken,” he said, then flinched with a start and pointed emphatically at Mac, “Except the important ones, like looking both ways before you cross the street, not doing drugs and,” he huffed out a breath while he searched for another unbreakable rule, “good dental hygiene.”
Mac laughed. “I’ll look before I cross, I’ll say no to drugs and I’ll brush twice a day, don’t worry.”
“Good.” Jack pulled Mac to him with Mac’s head tucked into the crook of his elbow and dropped a hard kiss on his hair. “You’re a good kid, you know.”
Mac and Katie stopped walking when they reached Katie’s door and she drew her arm out of Mac’s and turned to face him, taking both his hands in hers and swinging them from side to side.
Mac gave Katie’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Thank you," he said, "I had a good time tonight.”
Katie laughed. “You had a good time seeing a terrible movie and watching me sleep?”
Mac brought one of their joined hands up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “That wasn’t how I expected the date to go but it was still good.” He’d expected fun, laughter, the two of them geeking out together over the movie and maybe a few kisses but it was fine that what happened was different. “Maybe we could try going to the drive in again next week. Hopefully whatever movie is showing will be good and we’ll both stay awake. You could even walk me home.”
“I’d like that.”
“You should probably wear flat shoes then, if you're going to be protecting me.”
“I will.” Katie looked down and flexed one of her feet from side to side. “I couldn’t rescue a gentleman in distress if I had heels on.”
“Yeah, I’ve been reliably informed that that doesn’t work.”
“I’ll remember to leave the kitten heels in my wardrobe.” Katie let go of her hold on Mac’s hands and reached up to cup his face in her palms. “It’s a date,” she said, and she kissed him.
Sometimes on Sunday mornings when Mac is awake and lounging in his bed Jack will get up before him. Mac will hear him pad downstairs and head into the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot. The smell of brewing coffee drifts up the stairs as Jack flicks on the radio, singing along to the songs he knows and humming with the ones he doesn’t. On those mornings Mac is content to lie where he is listening to his dad’s lazy morning. He laughs at the lyrics Jack makes up when he can’t remember the real words of a song, lets his warm sheet swaddle him and feels his hunger wakening at the smell of bread toasting or bacon frying comfortable in the knowledge that he could either get up and join his dad or stay where he is for a little while longer - each choice being good and right - that the only thing he has to do is whatever he wants to, and that he’d be welcome whatever he chooses.
Kissing Katie was like someone had refined everything about those moments down into a single point that Mac could touch. Fondness, happiness and belonging were there, warm and sweet, in Katie’s kiss
When the kiss ended Mac opened his eyes to find Katie smiling up at him.
“Goodnight, Mac.”
“Goodnight, Katie.”
Jack was asleep. He was sprawled out on the couch with his reading glasses on and a copy of Equine Times open on his chest. He wasn’t quite snoring but he was breathing deeply, the magazine and the hand he had resting on it rising and falling with each breath. Mac rolled his eyes at his dad for trying to stay up waiting for him.
He couldn’t believe Jack had fallen asleep, he wasn’t even in that late. He snapped a picture on his phone as proof - certain that Jack would protest later he’d just been resting his eyes - then took the blanket from the back of the rocking chair and spread it over Jack, carefully slipped his glasses off, put them on the end table then turned to head to his bedroom.
“Good date, kiddo?”
Mac jumped and spun around with an undignified yelp. “I thought you were asleep!”
“I was,” Jack rubbed at his eyes, “the Dad part of my brain must have heard you come in.”
“The Dad part of your brain heard me?”
“Yeah, the Dad part of my brain heard you – that’s the bit of my brain that sits right between the Did Someone Say Cake Section and the Dallas Cowboy Appreciation Area of my mind.” Jack sat up, stretched with a drawn-out groan and flopped to lean against the back of the sofa. “So how was your evening?”
“Good. Katie was tired and she fell asleep halfway through the movie.”
Jack barked out a laugh. “She fell asleep? Were you boring her by talkin' about fusty old science stuff like that Schroeder’s cat or something?”
“Schroeder is the kid in Peanuts who plays the piano, it’s Schrodinger’s Cat, and no, I didn't bore her with science stuff, she’s been busy at work all week and she was tired.”
“If you say so. Was the movie any good?”
Mac thought about the so-so plot and the unimaginative villain. “Not really.”
“It sounds like you had kind of a sucky date there, bud.”
“No, it was good.” Katie falling asleep on him hadn’t been in his original plans for the evening but Mac was glad it had happened. He felt like he’d learned something even though he couldn’t have explained precisely what it was. “We’re going out again next week.”
“Good for you.” Jack scratched at the stubble on his chin. He straightened in his seat, looking as if he might haul himself out of the sofa, but he changed his mind and relaxed back again.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me," Mac said.
“I didn’t have to but I like to,” Jack answered. “This sofa is pretty comfy to sleep on. And one night on a sofa is nothing compared to what my mom did - after my little stunt with the balloons my mom slept on the couch in the living room for two weeks running to catch me red handed if I tried to do anything like it again.”
Mac imagined his Nana Bea curled up under a blanket on the couch, resplendent in pink pyjamas and hair rollers, watching like an angry hawk for any sign that Jack might be carrying out another prank. “Did you ever tell her where that canister of helium came from?”
“I didn’t know. A buddy of mine got it and I thought it was best not to ask too much.” Jack winked and tapped the side of his nose. “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you nothing that could go on to be used as evidence against me in a court of law, if you know what I mean.”
“Like, ‘no, I have no idea where it came from, officer’?”
“Exactly.” A dreamy smile filled Jack’s expression. “It was worth it though, it was worth the shrieking, the endless questions and having to drag that damn heavy canister through the house in the middle of the night. I’ll never forget the sight of all the kitchen utensils, the ornaments, my sister’s softball trophies and my mom’s knitting project floating around the house attached to brightly coloured balloons. It was like a dream or something from Twin Peaks, that weird TV show from the 90’s about the murdered girl.”
“Twin Peaks?” Mac said, “I’ve never seen it.”
“It was weird,” Jack nodded sagely “and kind of arty, Bozer might like it. So,” he announced, stretching his legs out and dropping his heels onto the floor with a decisive thud. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Is Katie okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Is the truck okay?”
“The truck’s fine.” Mac shrugged. “It might smell a bit like popcorn.”
“That’s okay, it’s smelled of worse things.”
“It has.” They’d had to drive with the windows open for three days after Jack decided to try a jalapenos/fish stick breakfast burrito on his way to work.
Jack moved his magazine to the end table, threw his blanket aside, and pushed himself up out of the sofa. He grabbed Mac and wrapped his arms around him, rocking from one foot to the other as he hugged him. “Look at you, driving my truck and going on dates. You’ll be leaving school and voting and getting a mortgage next.”
“Not quite yet.”
“But soon. Too soon.” Jack put a hand on the back of Mac’s head, weaving strong fingers into his hair.
Mac hugged Jack back. He moved so he was more comfortable in Jack’s arms, turning his head so his cheek was resting against Jack’s shoulder instead of having his face pressed into his shirt. He could be there for a while. Jack was feeling sappy and when he was sappy he had a tendency to cling. His shirt smelled like the end of the day, Mac could make out the aroma of straw and leather and there were faint traces of coffee and Jack’s aftershave.
“There’s plenty of time between now and then,” he said.
A grumble of dissent rumbled in Jack’s chest. “There’s not enough time. There’s no such thing as enough when it comes to doing things like this,” he squeezed Mac a little tighter.
After the time it took for Mac to become an adult had passed he would probably be too tall to tuck himself inside Jack’s arms. His head might not fit so neatly under his dad’s chin when their heights evened out. It would be different but Mac felt sure they would find a way to make it work.
“You told me once that I’d never get too big for you to hold, that works the other way around too you know, I’ll never get too big to hold onto you.”
“I’ll hold you to that, kid,” Jack said, adding, “Do you see what I did there?”
“I saw.”
“I might get you to write that thing you just said about always letting me hug you down and have you sign the piece of paper or something.”
“You won’t need to do that," Mac promised.
“That might be true but maybe I'll get you to do it anyway, then I can frame the note and put it somewhere I can see it when you’re all grown up and busy and I’m missing you.”
“Maybe we’ll do that in the morning at the stable, we could get Herschel to be a witness.”
Mac felt the muscles of Jack’s back shift as he chuckled.
“It will be like an ass-idavit, an affidavit, get it?”
Mac groaned.
Jack was still showing no signs of letting go of his grip and Mac focused on how it felt to hold him. Jack was solid in his arms, he felt strong, and not just physically. He was steadfast and sturdy, and if Mac had to learn about the physicality of caring he was glad he had Jack as his teacher.
Touch was a language, one dependent on context and full of nuance, and Mac felt like he would spend his whole life discovering how best to speak it. That was okay, he loved to learn. He loved discovering that Jack’s hand between his shoulder blades helped settle his nervous thoughts and that brushing a fingertip across Katie’s palm made her smile at him. In many ways knowing those things was better than the knowledge he gained from the beakers and Bunsen burners at school.
And if they were anything like the one he was currently taking his lessons in the language of touch would be wonderful.