Page 129 of Sweet T

They embraced, and soon Tucker’s trembles waned.

“One thing’s for sure,” Evan said, looking around. “You sure know how to liven up a party.”

Tucker grinned. “Yeah. Look at him.” He pointed across the pool to his father, who was fully animated, squatting like a duck and twerking in his tux pants, shaking his behind with pure abandon. Titus caught the two of them watching him from afar, so he punctuated his performance with a couple of slow-motion, hula-swiveling pelvis orbits.

“My God,” Evan said, squeezing Tucker to him. “What am I getting myself into?”

The funk music was blasting way too loud for Titus to hear them, not to mention a noisy pool filled with whooping and splashing people in formal attire. So, Tucker hand-gestured to his father with the OK symbol. Titus played along. He pointed at Tucker with one hand and at his nose with the other. Then, he lifted both hands, fingers spread, showing that Tucker had scored ten out of ten.

Tucker grinned, bowing in appreciation. He pulled Evan into another embrace, dipping him into a low lunge for an over-the-top kiss.

“My hero,” Evan said, with just the right touch of melodrama.

When they came up, Titus gave Tucker two thumbs up.

Tucker turned to Evan, grinning, his eyes brimming. “That’s the daddy I remember,” he said.

Despite the brief disturbance, it was a joyous occasion. Many all around them were having fun and cutting loose the way a wedding should be. The champagne was flowing, the music playing, and people were dancing all their troubles away.

But when the song ended, reality came crashing in again.

They both heard Shelly’s commanding shout over the din. “Help! Somebody call 911!”

Tucker looked that way. First, he saw Brody, quick with his phone again, just like the night they’d found Evan in the parking lot. Déjà vu slapped Tucker hard. He was disoriented, everything moving in slow motion.

Evan tore from his grip, running toward Shelly who was on her knees now at Sebastian’s table.

The last they’d seen him, Sebastian was smiling, amused at Tucker’s chivalrous defense of Evan, brandy in hand. Now, the brandy glass was shattered on the pool’s hard decking, and Sebastian’s body lay next to it.

Still.

Twenty-Seven

Many of you don’t know me. My name is Evan Harbuck. I met Sebastian Collins one month ago, almost to the day. It’s difficult to explain just how much I’ve grown to love him in such a short time, but I have. So much. He was my coach, my collaborator, and my mentor, but most of all, he was my friend.

Sebastian came to Spoon almost twenty years ago. He and his partner, Gerald, were seeking the solace of small town life after living in Macon. He brought with him his love of theatre, along with his need to share that passion with others.

Sebastian founded the Black Sheep Theatre shortly after and has been entertaining, inspiring, and teaching the people of Spoon ever since. I know this because I got a truncated version of it–a month’s cramming, if you will. When I agreed to play opposite him in his last production of King Lear, it was for selfish reasons, wanting to prove myself, assuming we were equals.

I don’t even come close.

Sebastian showed me so much more than just good acting chops. He taught me that true success is indefinable, and more than what you see ahead for yourself. It’s present, in-the-moment, and continuous. Yield to it, and it’ll find a way of embracing you.

I’m twenty-one years old. Youth is stubborn, foolish, and arrogant. It’s a veil over all of us—presumed invincibility. Sebastian taught me the preciousness of every moment. Even now, with his death, he has torn that veil away.

And I am inspired to do the same for others.

I see him now. He’s so happy because he’s reunited with Gerald, his love, grinning mischievously with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. There’s a theatre where he is with all of his favorite shows. And there is brandy there. Plenty of brandy.

But me? Now cracks a noble heart...

Good night, sweet Sebastian, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Twenty-Eight

When the ambulance took Sebastian away, the reception was all but over. Very few people remained, some had moved to the dance area to give the EMTs room to work. Hootie had stopped playing at Ben’s insistence, and most people were now drifting toward the gate and their vehicles.

Titus and Pedro planned to cancel their honeymoon, but Tucker and Evan talked them out of it.

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