Bankers' Hours (38 page)

“Teresa, I’m not trying to keep her from you, I merely want her to live with me full-time. You’ve had her with you for fifteen years. Claire will be out of high school in three, and then she’ll go to college. Don’t you think it’s about time I get to see her every day? You’ve had her most of her life.” His voice was calm and reasonable, where mine would have been fiery. After all she’d put him through, Tristan still seemed to forgive her.

“She’s all I have,” Teresa confessed.

“Then maybe we can do every other week, or every other month? I’m not the same person I was, Teresa. After I met Grant, I knew I wanted a family. I’m sorry it wasn’t with you, but I love him. I’m willing to share Claire’s time, if you’re willing to get mental help. What you did was wrong, Teresa. I could have you locked up for assault.”

I wasn’t completely sure if what he said was true, but it sounded reasonable to me. He had strong evidence against her. He glanced up and locked eyes with me but made no move to reveal my presence. From her angle on the floor in front of him, she wouldn’t see me unless she turned her head.

“Why don’t you?” she beseeched.

“Because I love my daughter. No matter how angry you make me, I’ve never once shown Claire the kind of evil person you are. She suspects, but that’s on you. I understand how you feel from your father leaving the way he did, but it was years ago. Your resentment has festered into something unspeakably awful. His actions may have been wrong, but so are yours. I’m not telling Claire her mother’s a lunatic. You get help, you change, and then we’ll figure out a visitation schedule.”

“But what about the lawyer and the papers you drew up? What about all the legal stuff you did?” I felt sorry for her, because her voice was so tiny—like Oliver Twist asking for more gruel.

“I can ask him to shred them. We never needed a legal agreement before, Teresa. I think we can work this out between us again. Don’t you?”

Teresa nodded.

Tristan helped her off the floor and squeezed her shoulders. “No more snakes, right, Teresa? No bees, no spiders, no creepy-crawlies to scare the bejeebers out of Grant and me?”

She nodded slowly.

Tristan nodded again and then opened the door for her.

After she’d gone, I stepped into the living room and joined Tristan by the window. We watched her car go down the road.

“You believe her?” I asked, because I didn’t. “You trust that she’s going to comply without any other freaky attack or infestation? It can’t be that easy.”

“I do believe her. This is the first time I’ve brought up her father and she didn’t flip out on me. I think she knows she has issues that need sorting, and that I’m not trying to take Claire forever.”

“Aren’t you?” I looped my arms around his waist.

“Yes… and no. I want her full-time, but I also know she’s going to leave for college in a few years, so living with us is only temporary. I’m pretty sure Teresa understood that too.”

“I don’t know. She looked broken to me. I think she’s desperate to keep Claire all to herself.”

“We’ll see. If Claire is here Friday night as usual, I’ll ask her if Teresa talked about any of this. If she’s really willing to allow Claire to live here without a court order, then she has to talk to Claire about it.” He was always so logical. I loved that about him.

“She wouldn’t hurt Claire, would she?”

“No.” Tristan turned, taking me with him into the kitchen. “In the meantime,” he said, “I think it’s time to have some chili. What do you say?”

I smiled and grabbed some bowls from our nice shiny cabinets.

CLAIRE ARRIVED
on Friday night without Teresa making excuses about forgetting the time. She dropped her bag on the chair and hugged her dad before walking over to me. She held her arms open. “Can I get a hug from you, Papa Number Two?”

I snickered and hugged her tightly to me. Her floral perfume filled my nostrils and her squishy feminine parts pressed against my chest. I had hugged women before, but this was very different. She was a kid, but not. I had a teenage daughter now! The notion made me emotional and sentimental, so I tightened my grip around her tiny body.

When she pulled back, I was not the only one weeping. “I guess I like having two dads.” She sniffled and grinned through her tears. “And I’m glad I’m not the only one emotional about it.”

I laughed. I wiped my tears and grabbed for a tissue from the box on the counter. I pointed an accusing finger at Tristan. “Don’t you say a word.”

He smirked and held his hands in the air but remained silent.

Claire walked over to her bag and pulled out a jar full of ants.

I gasped and stepped back. “What are you doing?” I asked, fearful she’d drop it on the floor and I’d have ants all over my kitchen in seconds.

“I brought this for Dad. I found it in the shed.” She handed the jar to Tristan, who turned it over to inspect it. “Why do you think Mom had a jar full of ants? I can see if the jar had been open, then they might have crawled inside on their own, but that jar was shut. It even has air holes smaller than the ants. Don’t you think that’s weird?” She glanced at me, and I shrugged.

Tristan said, “I don’t know. I can only hope it was some strange experiment and not a project meant to hurt the ants or anyone else.”

Hurt the ants?
I would hurt the ants myself if the jar somehow opened… in my house, near my food. “Can we take them outside, then? Because I have a new bottle of Raid Ant Killer under the sink just for occasions like this.”

Tristan chuckled but took them outside. Claire and I looked at each other, and when he didn’t come back right away, I offered her a cupcake. She said, “Ooh, these are really good. Did you make them?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. How’d you learn to bake so good?” She licked the icing off her lips and then took another bite. “What is this on the inside?”

“Boston cream pie filling.”

“It’s really good,” she complimented, with her cheeks filled with cake like a happy little hamster.

I told her, “I watched some videos online. I like to eat, but I don’t like paying to eat out every time I want something special. I learned to bake because I love cupcakes. They’re my guilty pleasure, and I eat way too many of them.”

“What’s your guilty pleasure?” Tristan asked as he walked back in without the jar.

“Cupcakes,” I said, rolling my eyes at him because I knew he was trying to get me to say something else. “What happened to the ants?” I asked, securing the lid on the cupcakes.

“I returned them to the woods. I had to walk all the way to the tree line so the ants would make their way in there. It’s dark, so I had a hard time weaving my way around the car parts. I think I need to clean up my yard.” He sat next to Claire. “Do I get a cupcake?”

“You think?” I reopened the container so he could pick one.

“Dad, do you think something’s wrong with Mom?”

We exchanged glances. “Why do you ask?”

“Because she’s been acting weird for weeks. Ever since I told her about you being gay, Mom’s been… off. She used to only drink on the weekends, but after I told her about you she started drinking during the week too.”

“She did?” I asked, beating Tristan to the question. He glanced at me and then Claire.

“How do you know that, honey?” he asked, and I knew he felt bad for her.

Claire took another cupcake out and removed the paper as she explained, “I used to measure the level in the bottles. I knew if she drank a certain amount, she’d need me to wake her up in the morning. I knew Jack affected her one way, and vodka another. It seemed like a game when I was little, but as I got older it was just sad.”

He reached over and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry,” he said. I loved how affectionate he was with me as well as his daughter. Tristan was such a wonderful man. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She lifted one shoulder. “We covered this already, Dad. I never knew you cared so much. It’s not like I thought you didn’t want me or love me, but I felt the distance between us like an invisible wall. But that weekend when you told me you were gay, it was as if someone put a blowtorch to the wall and melted it away. It felt like the very first time you told me something personal. I guess I felt closer to you, and at the same time, Mom felt further away. I already knew she wasn’t the best mother, but my mom was better than my friend Deana’s. Not everyone has great parents, so I was happy that she cooked for me and did my laundry. But lately….” Claire looked down, and Tristan kissed the side of her head.

“Lately things have changed.” He voiced her thoughts.

She nodded. “Yeah. I also talked to Grandma.”

“Oh?” Tristan’s voice went up.

“She called looking for Mom, but we ended up talking about Grandpa. She told me Mom blamed him for everything, and that’s why she’s so mean to you.”

“Your mom and I have always had issues.”

“I know, but I used to think it was my fault somehow.”

Tristan looked as though she’d stabbed him in the heart. “No! Sweetheart. It was never your fault.”

“Oh, I know,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Grandma was very open about it this time. I’m not sure why, but I think when I mentioned the possibility of living with you, she changed her mind about avoiding things. She told me you’d asked Mom to marry you, but she turned you down.”

“I did.”

“Grandma said Mom hates men because of Grandpa. She said you never stood a chance. I wish you would’ve told me that years ago. I felt like you didn’t want me, or Mom, but that wasn’t true.”

“No. I’m sorry, sweetness. I never wanted you to get stuck in the middle of it. My whole life has slipped by and only now have I realized what makes me happy. I want a family,” Tristan said. Every so often he lifted his eyes to mine as he talked to his daughter. “I want you and Grant. Teresa isn’t going to make it easy, but… would you want to live here… with us?”

Claire gazed at her father, moved her attention to me, and then back. She sighed. “Do I have to answer right now?”

“No. Of course not.” His strained smile gave away his disappointment.

Claire must have seen it too, because she explained, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, because I’ve always lived with Mom. The last couple of weeks have been different. She’s clingy, and I worry about her drinking. Seeing you every day will be different too. Besides, I’ll have to take a different bus and leave earlier. Mom’s house is close to the school, and yours is all the way out here. I wouldn’t ride with Kirsty anymore.” Her reasons were logical and she seemed so grown up about the whole thing.

Tristan patted her on the back. “I understand. Those are all good reasons to consider.”

Claire took another bite of cupcake while I gave Tristan a sympathetic half smile. I didn’t think I could make him feel better, but I hoped he’d know I was here when he needed a hug later. Claire asked for a glass of milk to go with her cupcake, so I got her one. She drank half of it and set the glass down, pausing before she continued, “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it a hundred times. I love you. I really like Grant. Danny lives closer to you. I think I’d like living here, but….”

“But what?” he encouraged.

She glanced at me and then asked Tristan, “But would you guys be having sex all the time?”

I choked and quickly snatched a glass out of the cabinet for a drink of my own. Her question caught me completely off guard.

Tristan was more in control than I was and only needed to clear his throat nervously. “So, um, Claire—” He coughed. “—why would you ask me that? I thought we’d already covered this.”

She was unfazed. In fact, her expression was so casual I wasn’t sure she was thinking about our previous conversation at all. “Um, I don’t know.” She lowered her eyes to her plate. “Danny was saying how some guys only want to have sex all the time, and he was worried about hooking up with a guy who wouldn’t care about taking things slow.” She picked at her cupcake wrapper. “He said the first time’s supposed to hurt, and he’s worried about penetration. He’s never had sex either, so we were talking about our fears and—” She glanced up with a wide-eyed expression as she finished. “—and I cannot believe I just said all that. Oh my God.” She glanced at me and back to Tristan, and then buried her face in her hands. “Please, please, please, forget I said that.” Claire groaned. “I just want to die.”

Tristan’s shock drained away, and then he chuckled.

“It isn’t funny,” she grumbled quietly into her crossed arms on the counter.

“Yes, it is.”

I piped in, “No, I agree with Claire. This isn’t funny. Those are valid fears.”

“No, I think it is. Claire, sweetness,” he stressed, rubbing her back until she lifted her head to look at him. “As much as I think it’s healthy for a parent to talk to their kid about sex, I also don’t want you getting your information from your mother, or from other virginal teenagers. I’d rather you talk to me than Danny. Although maybe I need to talk to the both of you, since it sounds like he needs someone to talk to as well. I’d rather inform you myself than have you make a huge mistake. I’m not talking to you about the specific things Grant and I do together. It’s unnecessary. We’re an adult, married couple, and what we do behind closed doors is no one’s business but ours. As far as having sex all the time while you’re here, I told you I wouldn’t. Grant makes too much noise.” She gasped, and I jumped in shock. Tristan kept going, but with a smirk on his face. “If we were to have sex in the middle of the night, he’d wake up the entire neighborhood with his wailing and moaning and begging and—”

“Please, stop. Stop now!” I cried.

Claire cupped her ears and started humming loudly. “La, la, la. I can’t hear you.”

Tristan laughed heartily and sat back in his chair.

Claire put her hands down. “That wasn’t funny, Dad!”

“Yes, it was,” he laughed.

“No, it wasn’t,” I added.

Claire got out of the seat and made haste to the steps. “See if I help you look for crap at Mom’s house again. I think you need to do it yourself!” She stomped up the steps. “And if I hear Grant moaning while I’m living here, I’m going to shoot myself. Thanks for the cupcakes, Grant.”