Page 92 of Sweet T
“What were you going to ask me?”
“Are you still going to Atlanta?”
Nineteen
Later that evening, Tucker was sitting at the pool reading a Kirsty Kitten novel while listening to its narration with headphones. He had long dismissed the thought of reading for pleasure, but Evan had opened up a new world to him with the suggestion of incorporating audio. Discovering m/m romances, a subgenre of entertainment practically absent in other mediums, was a game-changer. A world of men loving men with happy endings was now available with his debit card and just the click of a finger. He was hooked.
Hands gently squeezing his shoulders startled him. He looked up and saw his father smiling down at him. “Mind if I join you?”
Tucker removed the headphones. “Sure. I should go anyway. That way, you and P can have the pool.”
“Nope. Not tonight.” Titus sat down in the chair next to Tucker. “I’ve been thinking, it’s pretty ridiculous us having scheduled pool times, wouldn’t you say? We’re all adults here. We should know when and where it’s safe for extracurricular activity. Besides, this pool is as much yours as it is mine. You should be able to enjoy it whenever you want. Like now. Whatcha reading?”
Tucker blushed, closing the leather cover of Evan’s tablet and placing it on a nearby table. “The Sergeant's Privates.”
Titus chuckled. “Sounds like porn.”
“It pretty much is. Evan has introduced me to the world of gay romance fiction.”
“Pedro’s read a few of those. I don’t think he liked them, though. Said they weren’t realistic.”
“I think that’s what attracts folks to them–the fantasy element. It’s what I like, anyway. This is the third one I’ve read in a week. Everything always works out in the end, all tied up like a present with a big, pretty bow.”
They sat for a while, looking out at the pristine water and the fireflies bobbing in the night.
Titus broke the silence: “The way the Cubs are playing, they may go to the World Series this year.”
“They certainly stomped us today.”
Again, silence came. It was a paradoxical stillness, disconcerting, but also relaxing in combination with the tranquil drone of crickets and the still water.
The next break in silence came simultaneously, as both men attempted to speak. Chuckling, Titus said, “You go.”
“I was gonna ask you when Javy’s coming in. One week until the big day.”
“Friday night. He’s got class up until then. He’s gonna rent a car and drive down from Atlanta late. Then he’s leaving right after the ceremony for a red-eye back. Truth be told, I don’t think he wants to come.”
Tucker looked at Titus, surprised a bit by that last comment. “Well, it is a very long trip for such a short stay. He’ll have jet lag, plus the time difference–gaining time one way, but losing it the other. It’s a nine-hour flight, right?”
Titus nodded. “It is.”
“I don’t envy him.”
“Really? You’re telling me you’d rather be here than in Spain, living it up, running with the bulls?”
“I am. This is my home, Daddy. I’m happy being here with you and P. Don’t need much else, especially now with Evan. I know some folks are restless–like Shelly and Javy. They feel compelled to move on. I never had that urge. Spoon is all I know and all I need to know. I’m comfortable. I guess some would call that complacent.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sorry I never appreciated it about you.”
“I’m sorry I could never give you what Javy did.”
Titus scoffed.
“No,” Tucker continued. “I mean it. You got to relive your youth through him. All the games. Awards. Trophies. It was a great gift from him. Something I could never give you.”
“It was selfish on my part, son. Basking in his achievements while ignoring you. Your mother must be rolling over in her grave. I promised her I would raise our son well and just three years shy of adulthood, I all but abandoned you.”
“He needed you more than me, Daddy. He lost both his parents. I still had P.”