Page 68 of Big Britches
“Oh, Lord, son,” Truman interrupted. “What have you done?”
Titus smiled. “Pedro’s a movie buff, too, Mama. I told him about your obsession with the American Movie Classics channel.”
“I wouldn’t call it an obsession,” Patricia said.
“No. It’s more of an addiction,” said Truman. “Could you please pass me the biscuits, Pedro?”
Pedro did so, saying. “I’ve been an old movie buff since I was a kid. My father used television to help me learn English.”
“You speak it very well, I noticed.” Patricia raised her napkin to her lips. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”
“No. Not at all. I’m quite proud of it. English is one of the hardest languages to learn. It’s also why I read a lot. Barb and I have our own little book club.”
“Barb? Hawthorne?”
“Pedro has a room at the Hawthorne House,” Titus said. “He and Barb are friends.”
“How quaint,” said Patricia. “We’ve practically been neighbors this whole time and didn’t even know it.”
“How is Barb,” Truman asked. “We hardly see her anymore.”
“P says she’s got her hands full with property maintenance on that old house,” Titus said. “Says the historical society has been no help at all.”
“That’s no surprise. Bobby Garner and that bunch… they probably want her to turn it into a museum, maybe wear hoop skirts and hang rebel flags.”
“You’re not far off,” Pedro said.
“She should have told me. There’re other options out there. I could co-sign a business loan for her–just like I did for you and Alden. It’s not like I haven’t known her since she was knee high to a grasshopper. She’s so goddamned independent.”
“She’s cautious,” Patricia said. “She’s a woman in a man’s world–a gay woman.”
“Daddy told me you knew… about both of us.”
“A mother picks up on these things.”
“How long?” Titus asked.
Patricia smiled, placing her napkin on her plate. “Well, since we’re moving on to this topic, I suggest we move on to dessert first. Pedro, dear, will you help me clear the table?”
Fifteen
Transitioning was a group effort, except for Truman, who remained seated.
Pedro cleared the table, taking the dishes into the kitchen where Patricia was making fresh coffee. Titus plated desserts, providing everyone with fresh spoons and napkins.
Once tasks were carried out, they all met again at the table.
Titus took a bite from his bowl, closing his eyes and groaning emphatically. “My God,” he said. “Amelia’s banana pudding is one of my favorite things on earth. And it’s still warm.”
Patricia chuckled. “You were overzealous in serving, I noticed. You gave us all enough to feed an army.”
“No worries. Whatever anyone can’t finish, just pass it my way.”
Truman slid his bowl over to Titus. “Here, son. Coffee’s good enough for me.”
“So, yes,” Patricia continued from earlier. “I suspected that both you and Barb were different when you were children. Just the little things I saw in your behavior. In retrospect, it’s probably clichéd and irrelevant–stereotypes—but still. Barbara was always headstrong, determined–independent, as your father said. You were just incredibly sweet, so open, so loving. Opposites, though neither of you had any inhibitions back then.”
Truman added, “I told your mother that it was probably because we raised you two out in the country, away from most folks. Your minds had free rein without the baggage of social imprints. Also, Titus, your closest friends have always been women.”