Page 91 of Sweet T
“Yeah. It’s my fault. I know it. Pedro’s been wonderful, trying to patch things up between us. He and Tucker have always been close. That’s why I thought it made sense for Tucker to be Pedro’s best man. But, apparently, that backfired too.”
“That’s a safe bet.”
“Seems like everything I do is wrong. What would you do if you were me?”
This question caught Evan off guard. He wasn’t used to anyone asking for his advice, especially someone from a previous generation. His emotional meter had been bouncing up and down, ping-ponging with the various things Titus had relayed–sometimes angry, sometimes sympathetic. But mostly he was sad–sad that Tucker’s big, handsome, charismatic father, filled with the need to give, had failed so miserably at what should have been second nature. “I’m not sure it’s my place to say,” he answered.
“You’ve been a tremendous help, Evan, whether you know it or not. You’ve brought Tucker out of a funk. Having him around us more, and seeing him happy, has been a blessing. I respect what you have to say.”
Then fucking talk to him, Titus. He lives in your goddamn backyard was what Evan wanted to tell him. Instead, he took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and said. “What you perceived as a lack of ambition in Tucker was not his fault. I’m about ninety-nine percent sure he’s dyslexic.”
Titus stared, speechless. Evan witnessed the turbulence build behind Titus’s brown eyes as he replayed the countless events of Tucker’s childhood that now, undoubtedly, took on a different meaning.
“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” Evan continued. “It’s often overlooked. People who have it are confused, ashamed because they relate it to their intelligence. But that’s not it. It’s his wiring, Titus. That’s all.”
“God, I’m such an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just a big, sweet, confused man like your son. Sitting here, listening to you–you’re so much alike.”
“Yeah. Both stubborn and short-tempered.”
“With enormous hearts. Hearts large enough to forgive.”
“Do you think he’d forgive me?”
“I do. Tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. If you talk to him and patch this up. I’ll help you with the other.”
Titus looked at him, brow furrowed. “Other what?”
“If you want to make Spoon a destination for diversity–underdogs, as you say–you’ll need a website to start. Web development was my major. I can build you a site, Titus. A good one. But you also need someone to help promote it, marketing.”
Once again, Evan saw Titus’s eyes glaze with contemplation.
“Don’t give up, Titus. Maybe we can bring your dream to fruition yet.”
“I–I,” Titus stammered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Save it for Tucker. He’s the one you need to talk to. That’s payment enough for me.”
“Thank you. I mean it... sincerely. I’m beginning to think your being here is more than a coincidence. Like something profound is afoot.”
“Speaking of Shakespeare... that sounds like a line right out of the show.”
Titus put his hand on Evan’s shoulder, giving a squeeze. “I really am looking forward to seeing it, or should I say, Pedro’s explaining it to me.”
“I believe you’ll find it easier to understand than you think. Just open yourself up, Titus. That’s all it takes. Everything else will fall into place.”
“Are you in love with him, Evan?”
Titus’s bluntness jarred him once again. The thought had crossed Evan’s mind a lot lately, but he’d tucked it away, using his goal as an excuse to deflect. But here it was again now, vast and imposing, like a monolith.
“Yeah. I think I may be,” he answered.
“I’m glad. You’re good for him. Hell, you’re good for all of us.”
“Was that the question you bartered for earlier?”
Titus shook his head. “No. No, it wasn’t.”