Page 11 of Big Britches
Titus went up to his bedroom. He changed into one of his new swimsuits and grabbed a towel from the linen closet in his bathroom. Before heading back downstairs, he stuck his head in Tucker’s bedroom. Both kids were still sound asleep, curled like commas, facing the same direction. Cherubs in a painting.
Roz is right, he thought. They are growing fast.
Outside, he welcomed the warm muggy air on his bare skin, chilled from the air-conditioning. He was a large man, six-four, and close to two hundred fifty pounds. He hadn’t taken part in sports since he’d graduated high school five years prior, but he kept in shape as best he could by swimming laps in the mornings. Nothing fancy, just freestyle slow and steady for twenty to thirty minutes. Not only did it help him keep his weight down, but he also found the task mentally soothing. It was a ritual he’d picked up with football practice–only then he’d jog slow laps around a track–using the rhythm and his breathing to clear his mind and collate his thoughts.
It was also a good way to distract him from the idea of Roz leaving.
Big Britches.
He hated change, especially the disruption that came with losing things… games, friends, love. They’d called him Big Britches in school because he’d come from old money. People who didn't know him assumed that his success was because of his family and their wealth, something he was passionate about disproving. Roz knew better, of course. She used the moniker occasionally with affection, as did others he was close to, namely Barb and Alden.
Titus tossed his towel onto a lounger, strode around the pool’s smooth warm decking to the opposite side, lumbering yet graceful for a man of his size. He stood at the pool’s edge, as he did every morning, staring into the clear, still water. A wispy haze was evaporating on its surface, fleeing with dawn as the sun rose higher. Using the heels of his hands, he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes and dove in.
Despite the pool not being heated, the water was warm. Titus came up for air beneath his first stroke and began the first of many laps.
He took losses personally.
In high school, he’d led the Hoke County Hawks to four championships beginning his freshman year, silencing naysayers soon after making the team. He and Alden, his friend and quarterback, had been the magic combination, not only in winning but in building a foundation for HOCO’s future as a state contender.
But even though they had been the mortar to the bricks of that historical team, deep within, Titus had known that something set himself apart from his teammates. Physically, he was the same as any other teenage boy, but something at his core was distinctly different.
Barb picked up on it long before high school, being raised together and having a similar distinction. At thirteen, both had been obsessed with the television show Moonlighting for different reasons. Barb was smitten with Maddie Hayes, the former high-fashion model turned private eye, and Titus was equally infatuated with her silly but sexy cohort, David Addison.
They kept these adolescent crushes to themselves for some time.
Roz didn’t come along until high school. She was a cheerleader. Barb had seen her at a pep rally and was instantly smitten. Titus had warned her not to act on her impulses, but once Barb had set her mind to something, there was no changing it. She invited Roz to join them one day at their table in the crowded cafeteria where the three of them took to each other immediately, bonding over typical teenage drama with a connection so strong they’d lingered well past lunch and late into their fourth period classes.
Because of this initial connection, and Roz’s admitted infatuation with Malcolm-Jamal Warner, Barb did not reveal her secret crush that day. No. That didn’t happen until the following summer, when the three of them were riding dirt roads on a Saturday night. Titus had swiped a bottle of bourbon from his father’s well-stocked bar, and the three of them were sitting on the tailgate of his truck, passing the bottle around. They took turns sipping warm whiskey on a hot summer night, the moon so bright it seemed surreal, casting shadows like the sun.
“I’m gay,” Barb blurted, brazen from the booze.
“Tell me something I didn’t know,” Roz said.
“If you knew, then why didn’t you say something?”
Roz shrugged. “Figured it’s your business. You’d let me know when you were ready.”
Titus remained quiet, listening to the two of them.
“I had a crush on you. A little one. Before we met.”
“I thought you might. Do you still?”
“No. I don’t think so. I think the three of us have something else, though. Something beyond all that. It’s like we were inevitable. You know what I mean?”
“I do. But I’m still glad you told me.”
“Marcus Aurelius said to accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together.”
“Did he?” Roz asked. “Sounds kinda fancy. You sure you’re not just trying to get into my pants?”
Titus, mid-swig, spewed bourbon with a choking chuckle.
“For your information,” Barb said, “Marcus Aurelius was an emperor and a stoic philosopher, well respected during his reign of the Roman Empire and even now, two thousand years later. But if it makes you feel better, no, Roz, I promise I’m not trying to get into your pants.”
“That’s good. Because I’m strictly dickly.”
This comment made Titus laugh harder, a contradictory guffaw that sounded both spontaneous and forced, echoing awkwardly through the still night.