Chapter 11

Eleven

For the rest of that first memorable summer evening, they swam, finished the pitcher of margaritas, and spent the night in the guest house by the pool. There, they explored each other's bodies again, only much slower. Any residual anxiety from their initial encounters had faded with the aid of Jose Cuervo and their growing familiarity. Trust blossomed between them—an acceptance that they were just two men growing acquainted in the privacy of the Shepherd homestead.

In the wee hours of the morning, when Pedro tried to leave, Titus begged him to stay. After a little persuasion, he remained, and they slept in each other's arms for the rest of that magical night.

Titus called Silas the next day. He told him he had big plans for his property's landscaping development, and that he found Pedro to be the perfect candidate for the job. Silas balked at losing his best employee for three days a week, so Titus threw more money his way until he agreed.

The nights preceding Pedro's workdays on Titus's property were often the ones when he would sleep over. Roz became accustomed to seeing him there. She would tease Titus about it when Pedro was away, but she, too, was growing fond of him. She saw firsthand the profound effect he was having on her widowed friend. Conversations around the house had become much livelier, and Titus was running errands. In town . He was becoming an active participant in life again, and not just a passive observer.

The kids adored Pedro. Tucker and Shelly kept track of the days he was going to be there and, often, would even forgo the pool for a chance to work in the flower beds with him.

Tucker was especially enamored. At first, Titus and Pedro kept their relationship subdued in his presence, fearing an adverse reaction to introducing a new familial component. But, to their relief, the boy accepted Pedro, gravitating to him as any child would to a mentor or caring adult.

The biggest transition was Titus, though. He wanted to share everything he knew with Pedro, so much that they were going out together—once, sometimes twice a week. They were cautious, shopping for groceries at night or choosing takeout over dining in. But as their relationship grew, Titus resented having to do such things. If he could dine with male friends like Alden without question, why should dining with Pedro be any different? The town of Spoon, though insignificant to most, was important to Titus. He was proud of his heritage there and wanted to share it with Pedro.

That's what he told himself. The truth was, he was content. Deep down, and he wanted others to know of his newfound happiness.

The first time they ate in a restaurant together was at the local burger joint, the Dairy Dream. Titus explained to Pedro that the independent fast-food restaurant, established in 1953, had been a frequent teenage hangout for decades. They felt at ease there, eating chili cheeseburgers and drinking peanut butter milkshakes amongst the younger generation. Pedro marveled at the photo wall and trophy case where there were many award plaques and cups for multiple achievements regarding HOCO high school football—state championship paraphernalia, and team photographs, many of which included Titus.

On one of their visits to the Dream, Titus casually traced his finger across the table and stopped. They were sitting at a booth in the back, and he was pointing at some miniature etched graffiti. Pedro eyed it closer, making out a tiny grouping of letters and numbers.

BT23.

"When did you do that?"

Titus shrugged. "I don't remember. One night. I was probably bored, listening to the other guys ramble on about girls."

Pedro shook his head with mock disapproval. "Defacing private property… you little vandal you."

"You can barely see it. I had to point it out to you."

"Still."

"Just remember, if you're ever here for lunch without me, you can sit here. It'll be like we're together."

It was a frivolous notion, like something a teenager would say. But Pedro bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Their burgeoning affection not only got Titus to venture away from home, but also out of town. Pedro took him to Maria's, the Mexican restaurant in neighboring Morehead. There, he spoke with the family who owned the small establishment in their native language, knowing what Titus would like and ordering their meal without ever glancing at a menu.

The restaurant had been busy that night. Titus saw they were drawing the occasional glance from familiar faces, but he didn't care. The food was beyond delicious and Titus proclaimed that Maria's was where they would eat every Saturday night until the end of time.

They tried their best to be careful, but it was becoming difficult not to touch sometimes when out and about. They preferred movies, discovering a level of comfort within darkened theaters. Titus had never been that big on catching films upon release, always opting to rent the videotape months later. But Pedro was fond of seeing films on the big screen, no matter what genre, and Titus couldn't resist indulging him. So, they went to The Rialto on the square in downtown almost every Tuesday night when something new was playing.

They watched the harrowing Apollo 13 , and even though Titus knew the outcome, he still worried about the astronauts making it home.

They saw Congo and Batman Forever.

"Is that a nipple I see on his costume?" Pedro whispered.

"I do believe it is."

"It's weird, don't you think? Like they're naked even though they're not."

"I like it," Titus purred, slinking down in his seat and squeezing Pedro's hand.

Roz babysat for many of these dates, but they would sometimes take Tucker with them if the movie rating was suitable. They saw Casper and Pocahontas , the former being an enormous hit with Tucker, the latter not so much. Titus and Pedro, however, found themselves riveted to the Disney film's plot of forbidden love.

But most nights they stayed at home, playing with Tucker in the pool, cooking out on the grill, and relaxing to the nightly firefly spectacle.

Early on, they tried to hide their love from Tucker. Pedro slept in either a separate room or out in the guest house, where Titus would later sneak out to meet him. But that arrangement didn't last long, as the trio was quickly becoming a family.

One morning over breakfast, they broached the topic with Tucker, nervous about how he would respond.

"Tucker, how do you feel about me and Pedro?"

"I love y'all," Tucker said, oblivious to any reasoning behind the question.

"Do you like it that Pedro sometimes spends the night here?"

"Yep." Tucker nodded. "I wish he would stay here and never leave."

Titus glanced at Pedro, both men tearing up.

"Would it be OK if Daddy and Pedro shared the same house, maybe even the same room like mommies and daddies do?"

Tucker's brow furrowed. "I don't have a mommy."

Titus winced. He excused himself from the table. Pedro reached out and took Tucker's hand. "It's OK. Some children have mommies and daddies. Some children have only a mommy or?—."

"I just have Daddy. My Mama's in heaven."

Pedro heard Titus sniffle softly in the adjacent room.

"How would you feel about having two daddies?"

"You mean you and Daddy?"

Pedro nodded. "Yes, Sweet T. That's what I mean. Me and your Daddy."

Tucker's eyes got big. "Awesome," he said.

Pedro began sleeping in Titus's bed in the main house during the last week of July. He didn't move in completely, though. They still attempted to maintain a sense of separation outside of the gate. Roz had been their confidant early on, knowing somewhat instinctively and through sheer proximity that love was in the air. Shelly was as comfortable and accepting of Pedro's presence as Tucker. She sensed nothing at all unusual, only that Pedro was fun and around more often, especially in the mornings when she and her mother arrived.

Barb, too, knew what was going on. Her mornings with Pedro had grown fewer. Their book club discussions had dwindled as his truck had frequented the boarding house parking lot less and less. Whenever she spoke with him, Titus and Tucker were at the forefront of the conversation so much that she was a tad jealous at having lost her literary companion.

"I still haven't finished the Capote book," Pedro said one morning, packing his cooler while she sat at the kitchen table. "I keep thinking I'll have time later in the evenings, but Titus?—"

"No worries. I'm happy for you two, even if most of what I know is speculation ."

"Sorry I've been so scarce lately."

"I'm just glad that Lennie has finally found his George."

Pedro turned from the counter to face her. Barb was referencing Of Mice and Men , the Steinbeck novel they'd read earlier in the year.

"Do you think Lennie was gay?" he asked, intrigued. "I think George could have been. But Lennie was so hard to decipher–large, sweet, childlike, and with some sort of intellectual disability."

"It's easy to compare Titus to him. He's large, sweet, and childlike, too."

"But Titus isn't simpleminded."

"No. Definitely not. He's as business savvy as they come, and a borderline news junkie. But he had his share of difficulty in school. I've since wondered if maybe he had a learning disability like ADHD, or dyslexia. But that doesn't explain the agoraphobia. I mean, look at how long he's been hiding away. That's not exactly normal behavior."

"That's something else. And we're working on it." Pedro grinned. "Both of us. Baby steps. You'll see. If anything, he's more of a George, though, taking care of me."

"I'm sure it's mutual. Just be cautious. Bible-thumping idiots like that Phelps guy in Kansas can always come out of the woodwork. God knows the South has its share of ghosts. Advocating slavery's a stigma that takes a hell of a long time to shake. But I think you'll find Spoon is a little more progressive than the average southern town. Seems so to me, anyway."

"I hope you're right."

"Like Lennie, Titus doesn't know his own strength. But I'm not talking just physically, I'm talking sway . The name Shepherd goes back way further than just him and his daddy. Spoon loves its history and its heroes. Titus has a lot of pull here. Big Britches , remember?"

"Yeah. He's a little hesitant about all that."

"Well, he needs to embrace it. Mark my words, the sooner he does, the sooner we'll all be the better for it."

"It's good seeing you, Barb. I've missed these conversations."

"Me too. Don't be a stranger. And tell him I said to fucking call me."

Barb's phone rang the next day.

"Am I in trouble?" Titus asked.

"A little. But I forgive you."

"I'm sorry, Barb. It's just–"

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I should have introduced you two sooner."

"I was kind of wondering why you didn't."

"It wasn't intentional. I promise. Subconscious maybe. Last I remember, you were a monk–celibate, devoted to your child, with no room for anyone else."

"Things changed. Tucker's older, and I guess I–"

"–woke up," Barb finished for him.

"My libido did. That's for sure."

"A little more than I needed to know, thank you."

"It's not just sex, Barb. I'm crazy about him. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on him."

" Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight? "

"Shakespeare?"

"Close. Christopher Marlowe. A poem– Hero and Leander ."

"That's why you've been keeping him to yourself. Y'all speak the same language."

Barb gave a soft chuckle, twirling the phone cord around her finger. "I'm happy for you both. From what I've observed, he feels pretty much the same."

"I hope so. Sometimes, I have to pinch myself to believe it's real."

"Why?"

"I don't know. That stuff only happens in stories, or maybe poems written two centuries ago."

"Four, but who's counting? Austen, Anderson, Hugo, Mitchell… the concept has been with us for ages, even movies today. Hell, Forrest Gump –"

"Peas and carrots."

"Exactly. Don't question it, T. Just be grateful."

"I am. We are."

"Who else knows?"

"Only Roz. Well, Shelly and Tucker, too. They're easy, though. Kids that age accept things as if they're completely normal."

"It is normal, T."

"You know what I mean. Their innocent little minds aren't jaded by the real world yet."

"Things are getting better out there, you know?"

"Says the also closeted landlord of Spoon's Hawthorne House."

"I'm not closeted, Titus. Just cautious. I get out. I went to a drag king show at Aphrodite's last weekend."

"In Macon?! Don't they shoot gay people there?"

"That was several years ago. And he survived. He lives in Atlanta now."

"He was shot six times, Barb. I read it in The Telegraph . And what about that woman last year?"

"That was two years ago," she countered, then reluctantly added, "She died."

"You're safer in Spoon. It's a savage world out there."

"Things are changing, T. With Clinton in office?—"

"Come on. Don't ask, don't tell ? DOMA? He perpetuates it."

"You really should be in politics."

"It's all BS. I read all the crap, watch it on TV. Makes me nauseous."

"You could change things, T. Here, anyway."

"Yeah, that's a great idea. Spoon's gay mayor, and his boyfriend–his Mexican boyfriend. What are you trying to do, get us lynched?"

"Titus, this town loves you. You made them state champions four years in a row."

"That was over five years ago."

"That's my point. People remember. Singers, actors, athletes–they get elected all the time."

"If you're so passionate about it, then why don't you run?"

"Because I don't have your pedigree. You come from a line of politicians–father, grandfather. You'd be a shoo-in."

"Big Britches," Titus muttered disdainfully.

"– is back! Make a great campaign slogan, don't you think? Return of the king. It's power you could use for good."

"I wouldn't know what the fuck I was doing, Barb. I'm not qualified."

"You own your own business."

"It's a printing company."

"And Truman owned a building supply company. And Trent was an accountant. Do you not see a pattern here?"

"You're impossible."

"I believe in you, T, just like all those people at HOCO stadium did. I'm hoping one day you will too."

The words lingered. Barb remained quiet, as if to emphasize them. Titus said nothing. After several seconds of this silent tug-o-war, she relented. "OK, I'll shut up now."

"Thank you."

"Speaking of our parents. When are you going to tell them about Pedro?"

"Jesus Christ. I knew better than to call you."

Barb chuckled. "If it's as serious as you're letting on, I can't imagine it hasn't crossed your mind."

"Every day."

"Well, don't stress too much about it. You're their sole heir, so it's not like they're gonna cut you off."

"I'm not their sole heir."

"Yes, you are. I'm just the foster kid, the butch ragamuffin going-on spinster."

"This conversation just keeps getting better and better."

"You gave them a grandchild, T. Lineage. That's gotta count for something. Hawthorne House is my legacy. Sucking my soul like Hill House ."

"If you'd just let us help?—"

"Nope. It's my cross to bear. So, how do you think Mama and Daddy will react… to Pedro, that is?"

"You can change the subject all you want. But we will readdress this."

"Not today, we won't. Maybe they'll surprise you."

"Maybe. But you know Mama. She's a social butterfly. Daddy too, lunching on the square every day."

"They could be your PR agents. Save you some legwork."

"It's gonna affect them too, Barb."

"Yes, it is. Unlike you, though, I think it's gonna be a good thing."

"I appreciate your optimism."

"Hm. That almost didn't sound sarcastic."

"That's because I'm trying to end this phone call on a positive note."

"What about Roz? How did she take it?"

"She saw it all from the beginning. You know how perceptive she is. She confronted me two days in."

"And?"

"I think she's relieved. She's moving on, you know?"

"Pedro mentioned it."

"Yeah. I'm not letting her go completely, though. We're talking about starting a daycare business. I can't imagine not having her in my life somehow. She's been my rock for a long time."

"And she approves?"

"She does, in her own reserved way. You know her as well as I do. She's got a great poker face."

"She's worried."

"She's no stranger to racism, Barb."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why are people so goddamn mean? Why should the color of a person's skin even come into question, or who they sleep with for that matter?"

"It's an age-old question, T. One I suspect will never be answered."

"It's not fair."

"No, it isn't."

"If I could turn this town into a haven for the underdogs of the world, I would–Black, white, straight, gay, Mexican, Asian… whatever."

"That sounds more like Atlanta."

"Yeah? Well, it shouldn't have to be. Diversity's what makes our country great. It should extend to small towns as well."

"You'll get no argument from me–" Barb said, voice lilting, "–but how on earth would we ever begin making such changes?"

"Well, first we–wait a minute. I see what you're doing here."

"Who, me? I'm not doing anything. Just listening."