Page 34 of Sweet T

“You asked.”

“So, your dad–your biological father–was a late bloomer?”

Tucker chuckled. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“How did he and Pedro meet?”

Tucker looked at Evan. There was no harm in the question, but he’d not expected their lunch together to be focused on his family history.

“Pedro was our yard man,” he answered.

“Scandalous.”

“A little.”

“He’s Hispanic, right?”

“Yes. Mexican.”

Evan said nothing, just nodded.

“If you’re thinking my daddy took advantage of a migrant worker, you’re not the first.”

“It could go either way on the creepiness scale.” Evan looked around. “I mean, your family seems well off. You live on a gated property, away from civilization, a lot of land, a swimming pool, a guest house...”

“Yeah. I used to hear the occasional whisper in town and at school. Accusations. Resentments.”

“Because you come from money?”

“That. Because Daddy’s mayor. Because he’s gay. Because P is Mexican. Because Shelly’s black. People just need a reason to hate. Fuck ’em. Let them draw their own conclusions. They will, regardless of the truth.”

“Sorry,” Evan said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t realize it was such a hot topic. So, you three were a family... plus Pedro’s mother—”

“Alejandra, was her name. Yeah. Shelly and her mother, Roz, were here a lot too, when I was little. Shelly and I are tight, as were Roz and Daddy. When my mother died, Roz took over for a while. Helped Daddy with the house and raising the two of us.”

“And your daddy and Roz were never a couple?”

“NO,” Tucker said, incredulously. “She knew he was gay from an early age, maybe before he did.”

“And she was black?” Evan said.

“Here we go.”

“No. Calm down, big guy.” Evan put his hand on Tucker’s, reassuring. “I’m just clarifying.”

Tucker wanted to be mad. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he’d felt judged his entire life. Not just scrutinized from the outside world, but even by his own daddy. Evan’s sincere smile was enough to calm him, though. That, and big guy was an endearment Pedro often used with Titus.

“Yes, she was,” he answered. “Roz is no longer with us, though. Cancer.”

Evan was quiet, taking everything in.

“Look, I know how it sounds... My daddy was a wealthy white guy, from a family of successful white guys. He had a black woman helping him keep house while he hooked up with the Mexican gardener. It’s like one of those stupid television dramas. But that’s not how it was, Evan. Not at all. My daddy loves these people. ALL of them. He took care of them and they took care of him, especially after my mother died. People outside of our gate can think whatever the hell they want, but inside it was nothing but love.”

Evan looked at Tucker. His expression was hard to interpret... part curiosity and part empathy, with just a dash of playfulness.

“You think I’m justifying, don’t you?” Tucker asked.

“I do. But I’m not saying you’re wrong. Sounds to me like you had a beautifully diverse family long before it was fashionable.”

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