Page 27 of Big Britches

Titus cocked his head quizzically. “That’s mighty perceptive of you. Tell me, P, are you that well attuned to others? Myself, perhaps?”

It was the third time Titus had addressed him by only his initial. Pedro’s brows lifted, but his eyes fell to his hands, still held gently by Titus. “Maybe. I thought I was but, so far, you continue to surprise me. Everything since arriving here has been unexpected. And just now, when I thought I knew exactly what you were going to say, other words come out of your mouth.”

Titus chuckled. “That’s because I tend to yammer on when I’m nervous. Another southern trait, I suspect, weaving tapestries of conversation before getting to the actual point.”

“Again, I don’t think that has anything to do with geography.”

“Probably not. Do you mind me holding your hands like this, P?”

“No. I think I might even be sad if you let go.”

“Then I won’t.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I am. But I think you may already know.”

Seven

Titus sensed the change in Pedro’s dark eyes. The warmness there had intensified, as if giving him permission to proceed. So, he continued with his roundabout explanation, Pedro’s hands still in his own.

“I only want the best for Tucker.”

“Of course you do. You’re his father.”

“I don’t want him to live in my shadow—good or bad.”

“Any worthy parent would say the same.”

“I married Violet out of necessity. She was pregnant. It was our first time, cliché as it sounds–an accident. She came from old money too, only her family is from Morehead. So, to save both of our parents the embarrassment, we got married fast.”

“Were you not in love?” Pedro asked.

“I loved her deeply, but I wasn’t in love with her. I’m not certain I’ve ever been in love with someone.”

Until now, Titus thought.

“Our love for each other grew, as it does with others. More like friends, though. Friends with a life-changing situation in common. You get me?”

“I do.”

“Are you gay, Pedro?”

Pedro’s eyes widened a bit, startled by the question.

“Oh, man,” Titus said. “I’m sorry. That was totally out of line. I’ve been secluded for way too long. The line between cordial and crass is blurry, to say the least. I spend most of my day with four-year-olds.”

Pedro’s alarm retreated as quickly as its onset. He smiled, forgiving.

“Yes, T. I am. I am gay.”

Titus closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his face in Pedro’s palms. “Thank God,” he said, immersed in his warm breath and feeling the light catch of his beard stubble on Pedro’s calloused palms. It was a personal gesture, intimate. Almost too intimate.

“Sorry,” Titus said, straightening. He blushed self-consciously.

“It’s OK. You’re getting closer to what I thought you were going to say. But crass? You get points for that. I never recall hearing anyone using that word aloud.”

“I get it from my mother. She’s refined, you could say.”