Page 130 of Sweet T

“No, Daddy. You’ve waited so long for this day. Don’t let this ruin your plans to get away together. Sebastian would have insisted. You know he would.”

“He had no family, son. It’s gonna be hard for me to enjoy myself thinking Pedro and I should be here for him.”

“No, go,” Evan said, eyes still puffy. “We’ll be here. Tucker’s right. Sebastian would much rather know you’re happy, sitting on a beach toasting him, than sad at his funeral.”

“That’s very true,” Pedro said. “Sebastian embraced life. He would want us to do the same. We’ll take a day, maybe an afternoon or evening, to celebrate him. I know the perfect spot.”

Titus’s eyes were on Pedro. They traveled from him, to Evan, to Tucker.

“I got this, Daddy,” Tucker said, smiling sadly. “I do. Sorry I ruined your wedding.”

“Ruined it? Hell, you brought it to life.” Titus chuckled softly. “So much so... it killed a man.”

“I guess I did.” Tucker pondered. “Shelly said he was laughing really hard before he went down.”

“No.” Pedro said, cutting a brief, scolding glance to Titus. “This was not your fault. Sebastian was not a healthy person. When Gerald died, he let himself go. Ate and drank whatever and whenever he wanted. It was only a matter of time.”

“King Lear was his swan song,” Evan said, smiling. “A great one to go out on.”

Titus weighed everyone’s words before heaving a large sigh. “We’ll go, but on one condition,” he said. “I want Evan to speak at the funeral.”

* * *

Sebastian’s funeral was Tuesday, and Titus need not have worried. Many attended. Standing room only. There was an extraordinary amount of flowers–a casket spray, nine enormous arrangements, and twenty-one potted plants, lilies. When Tucker saw that many of these had no cards, he knew it was his daddy’s way of making peace with himself for not being there.

* * *

The following day, Tucker and Evan had lunch with Monty Barksdale at his request. They went to Maria’s in Morehead and, over fajitas and guacamole, he convinced them not to press charges against Emmett.

“My sister, Pru, is a selfish, cold-hearted bitch,” Monty said, sipping from his tea. “She doesn’t love Emmett. If she did, she’d set him free. Instead, to save face, she’s had him in conversion therapy for the past two years.”

“Oh, my God,” Evan said. “That’s horrible.”

Tucker was less sympathetic. “If you knew this, why are you just now coming to his defense? Is this to save face for your family?”

“No. I don’t give a shit about the grudges of our ancestors, Tucker. Our families may have feuded in the past, but you and I have never had issues, you know that. I’m only telling you now because I didn’t know until a month ago. We’ve been communicating via phone. Mostly when he’s away from her, on the road for his job. I’m the one that convinced him to return your belongings, Evan. The guilt, not just of your encounter, but everything combined over the years, had come to a head. He called me the day after, told me what happened. Asked for help. I said the first step was to make amends with you.”

“So, he brought my bag back. I had a feeling.”

“Evan is much more prone to forgiveness than me,” Tucker said. “Why would he turn to you, her brother?”

“Because I’m gay,” Monty said. “Don’t look so surprised, Tucker. Our families have never really jibed and I live here, in quiet little Morehead. I, however, have been fascinated from afar with your family–a gay mayor, with a gay son, born of a woman my father was in love with. Forgive me, but I do love a little drama.”

“Don’t we all?” Evan said, smiling.

“When I heard you had taken up with a transient–no offense, Evan–”

“None taken.”

“–I put two and two together. My suggestion was a letter to you, Evan. But my brother-in-law, as you’ve seen, is seriously fucked up. Manic depression would be my guess, coupled with self-loathing, and now, thanks to my dear sister, brainwashing. You called it at the wedding, Tucker. He probably just left Evan’s bag and high-tailed it back to Atlanta.”

Evan nodded.

“And you’re asking us not to press charges,” Tucker said.

“You have every right to. What happened was inexcusable. But I am hoping you’ll have compassion. The day before your daddy’s wedding, I convinced Emmett to undergo psychoanalysis–real therapy. But the only way to do it was to go behind Pru’s back. I had to get him far, far away from her to an institution where she can’t find him. I did that yesterday. He’s in Virginia. She has no idea.”

“She’ll report him as a missing person,” Tucker said. “She’ll have the law out looking for him.”

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