Page 77 of Big Britches
“But isn’t Truman using you too?” Roz asked. “I mean, he figured all this out before we did. Now he wants you to follow in his footsteps to prevent a Barksdale in Spoon’s future.”
“I’ve thought about that, too. But Daddy’s intentions are mostly noble, and for the greater good. He loves Spoon, and he wants it to continue thriving after he’s gone. We have that in common. You said you weren’t convinced that being mayor was my dream, and I’m not either. But I do know, internalized homophobia or not, that I am a people pleaser. When Alden and I led the Hawks to all those victories, the whole town benefited. The state of Georgia saw Spoon as a worthy contender, and it grew and flourished as a result. I want to continue that course. I want my friends and family to prosper from it, too. I want Spoon to be a diverse, inclusive, and thriving environment for us all.”
Barb grinned. “Sounds like a campaign speech if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Hold your horses. I haven’t completely decided yet. But if there’s a way for me to achieve it all with Pedro by my side, then it’s a done deal… because Pedro is my dream.”
“DADDY! DADDY!” Tucker was waving from the diving board. “I’m ready!”
Titus looked at Shelly, who was climbing out of the pool on the ladder. She nodded with a big grin.
“OK, son. Let’s see what you got.”
Shelly joined them at the table and all eyes were on Tucker, who was positioning himself on the diving board. The young boy stood poised, his energy much less frenetic than before. He took a deep breath, raising and lowering his arms slightly. Once ready and centered, he took two small steps and a large one, squaring his feet at the edge. The board bent substantially with his bounce, and he sprung high, leaving the board. As if in slow motion, Tucker swiveled in the air, aiming his back toward them, stretching one leg out and gathering the other to his chest with both hands. He reclined into a relaxed descent, body plummeting. When he hit the water, there was a thunderous whoosh, the kickback splash high, but at a calculated and more horizontal angle. The resulting wave arched toward the table, surprising the four observers who were pummeled with a generous amount of chlorinated water, spattering loudly on the table and on the pool decking all around them.
Titus laughed loudly, grabbing Shelly and pulling her into his lap, squeezing and tickling her. “You planned it all!” He moaned in an exaggerated voice. “You beguiling, crafty, little genius!”
Shelly giggled, squirming. Roz and Barb stood. They were laughing, too, flinging water from their arms and hands.
Tucker’s head surfaced in the pool. “How was that, Daddy?”
“Beautiful, son. Absolutely beautiful,” Titus said, beaming with pride. “I knew you had it in you. Sometimes it just takes a little collaboration.”
Seventeen
I could get used to this, Pedro thought.
He and Titus had been seeing each other for two months now, but he especially cherished the nights when Tucker was with them. He missed that—being part of a group of three. Those nights when he, Titus, and Tucker were together felt like?—
Like having a family again.
He missed his mother and father. But now, sitting at the Dairy Dream on a Saturday night, watching Tucker feed French fries to Titus, restored his sense of fulfillment. He felt like he belonged, no longer a stranger in a strange land, but part of a new family, beautiful and destined.
Titus made grunting sounds, scrunching up his face like an ogre. He took an exaggerated bite from Tucker’s neglected cheeseburger, and Pedro and Tucker laughed at his silliness.
Other patrons in the Dream looked over, smiling, amused by their merriment.
That’s what Pedro told himself, anyway.
Relieved with his parent’s blessing, and emboldened by Barb’s advice to live authentic lives, they went out in public whenever they chose now. No more relegating their dates to less popular week nights. Not that Spoon resembled the Vegas strip on a weekend, but there was certainly increased activity on a much smaller level.
After dinner, they went to the Rialto for The Indian in the Cupboard. The movie was OK, but paled in comparison to the trailer they saw for Toy Story.
As they were leaving the theater, someone spoke behind them. “Titus? Pedro?”
They turned, seeing Silas Compton with his own little boy in tow.
“Hey, Silas,” Titus said, surprised by the encounter but quick to respond. His mother had often used the phrase to kill them with kindness, and he defaulted to it naturally. “Is that little Jasper? They grow up so fast, don’t they?”
Silas barely heard the comment. He was looking at the three of them intently, Tucker between them, each holding a hand.
“I didn’t realize you two were so close,” he said. “I guess when your work detail is out in the country three days a week, friendships evolve.” He emphasized the verb as if it were something lecherous.
Pedro watched Titus’s face flush with color, but it wasn’t shame he saw. It was pure rage.
“Yes,” Pedro interjected, trying to suppress the tension. “I wanted to see this film and Mr. Shepherd said he was taking Tucker to see it tonight. They invited me to tag along.”
It was a weak cover at best.