LOVE IN THE BAKING

SHOELACES

"Say hello, Liam?"

The boy looked at Callum's shoes, shook his head, and walked away.

"He's happy to see you."

"Doesn't seem like it," Callum replied as he stepped inside.

The taciturn man couldn't read between the lines of his son's silence or screams. There, he knew Liam disapproved of something. Callum looked down at his shoes.

What had he gotten wrong?

"He's overwhelmed," George, Callum's father, said.

Like Callum, Liam was shy. His father was like a stranger yet so familiar. He wished to tell Callum he earned more than ten hugs with the hard work he put in to dress himself and brush his teeth.

Callum found Liam embracing Caitlin in the living room. Liam gave Caitlin a hug he intended for his father and that he couldn't deliver due to Callum's poorly tied shoelaces.

His gran had taught him shoes with laces had to have a pretty bow. His father's were unpretty. Thus, Liam couldn't give a well-done hug.

"I thought you were going to stand us up," Caitlin said.

Callum refrained from saying the thought did cross his mind. There, he hoped they would directly invest in the dining table.

"The meal is ready. We can eat right away. I imagine you're busy, Callum; I don't want to keep you away from the bakery," Lilly, Callum's mother, said as if she heard Callum's inner plea.

No one asked what they were having for lunch. The smell that invested the space left no place for imagination.

Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy were staples in the McCormac household and one of Callum's nightmares. He couldn't believe his parents still thought the dish would remain his favorite. The man regretted the words pronounced at age seven.

What had gotten into him?

Callum wished he could message himself and say, never tell them you could eat this forever.

Yep, Lilly took his word for it and provided.

"Bang Bang, bang bang," Liam chanted while swaying his head in all directions.

"Yes, Liam, you'll have your bangers," Lilly said.

On the other hand, Liam saw no inconvenience in eating the same meal. His favorite meal was bangers and mash. If one asked him, Liam would express he could eat the same thing morning, noon, and night.

He had enough autonomy to feed himself. His gran placed his meal on a sectional plate. Liam hated it when food got mixed up. Each aliment had to be in its own space. A pea could not sit on mashed potatoes, nor did gravy pour down on his meat.

Liam's OCPD was high; anything out of place or impaired disturbed him. The thing that was the most out of place in his life was his father. Somehow, Callum just didn't fit, no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps it was because his presence beside Liam was too random, but the boy brought it down to a more straightforward reflection: Callum's shoelaces were poorly done. His hair was all over the place, and he sometimes had a lot of facial hair.

Facial hair pricked, Liam hated things that stung. It took his grandparents forever to make him use a fork. The boy used a spoon and his hands on most days.

Pricky things hurt. Liam didn't like the pricky little things and the clatter cutlery made.

Once served, he put on the headphones he had around his neck. Callum observed him. Liam had made a lot of progress. He almost looked like an ordinary boy.