Bankers' Hours (41 page)

My mom stopped by and really got along well with Tristan’s mom. She invited her to play mah-jongg one Sunday and asked if she’d like to go to lunch. I hadn’t seen my mother so congenial in a long while. It made me feel good. All of our friends seemed happy and contented, talking, eating, and laughing.

Claire and her friends put on her favorite dance video game, and to my surprise, Wes, Will, and Jessica joined in. They took turns, as the living room floor only had so much room for people to line up and mimic the dance moves on the TV screen, but it was fun for everyone to watch.

I was sad when the guests started to leave.

“I had so much fun, Grant,” Jessica said, standing by the door getting ready to leave. “You’ll have to throw another party soon.”

“I agree,” Wes said, coming up behind Jessica. “I had a great time.” He grinned at Jessica, and she blushed.

“Wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes as their subtle nervousness gave away more than they realized. “Are you…? Is this…?”

Jessica blushed again and looked down.

“No way!” I said.

Wes smirked. “I told you I had a great time. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to walk this lovely lady to her car.” He placed his hands on her arms, and she giggled.

I opened the door for them, and we all jumped when we found Teresa standing on the other side of the door, her arm held tightly in the grasp of a scuzzy-looking man I’d never seen before.

“I need to see Tristan,” the man declared.

“Let me go, you dirty old man,” Teresa hissed as she struggled against his grip.

“Shut up, woman,” he said with a hard jerk. I could see he had one of her arms twisted around behind her back and the other firmly held at her elbow. She was furious, but for reasons unknown, she remained relatively quiet.

“Tristan,” I called.

Tristan appeared by my side right away. “Bob! What’s going on?”

“You know this guy?” I asked.

Wes answered, “Bob Crane’s been a customer back long before I started working for Tristan.”

“Oh.”

Bob answered, “I was driving past your house when I saw this woman pouring something on your truck. I pulled over and managed to grab her before she ran away. I didn’t see her smash the taillights, but there’s a crowbar on the ground by the driver’s side. I’m sure she done it. I would have called the cops, but she’s a feisty bitch.”

Teresa thrashed but couldn’t pull out of his grip.

A crowbar?

“My truck’s around back, Bob.” Tristan glanced out the door over their heads and then called to the guests in the living room, who had turned the music off and were gathering around us near the door. “Who drives a 2014 blue Dodge Dakota?”

“That’s my dad’s truck,” Danny said, stepping forward. “What happened to it?” His voice wavered, and his face paled.

The unkempt man who held Teresa’s arms answered, “This woman poured a two-liter Coca-Cola all over the hood and smashed the taillights.”

“What?” Danny cried.

“Mom!” Claire exclaimed. “I can’t believe you would do that to Danny’s truck. His dad trusted him with it this weekend for the first time since he got his license.”

“I didn’t know it was his,” Teresa snarled. “I thought it was Tristan’s.”

“Oh my God,” Tristan groaned, clutching his forehead and stepping back from the door.

Wes commented, “His is a 2009. The headlights are different.”

I was sure there were other differences if Danny’s dad’s truck was so much newer, but the real problem was that Tristan could no longer keep Teresa’s bizarre criminal activities from Claire. We were all here. We were all witnesses.

Claire stepped closer to her mother. Tristan tried to stop her, but she pulled out of his grasp. “Why would you do that, Mom?” Her voice was calm, much too calm for the situation. “Why would you pour Coke on Dad’s truck? That would ruin the paint.”

I heard Danny crying and noticed Kirsty attempting to console him with a hug. I felt awful for him.

“He ruined my life,” she said, her voice cracking as if she might cry at any moment. “All I ever wanted was a family, and Tristan left me. He joined the Navy and never looked back. He abandoned us. He abandoned you!”

“Teresa….” Tristan started to speak, but Claire cut him off.

“Dad never abandoned us, Mom. You pushed him away. Grandma told me how much Dad wanted to be in my life, but you wouldn’t let him.”

“My mother never said that!” she barked, her sadness suddenly disappearing. “Tristan was selfish. Tristan should have done what was right and married me, but instead he left. I begged him to stay.” She started weeping.

“Teresa, stop. You knew I signed up right out of high school. You told me you only wanted one night. I had no idea you’d get pregnant.”

“Lies!” Teresa spat, turning off the tears like throwing a switch. She pulled forward, but Bob held her firm. “You left me to raise her on my own. I had to be the one to feed and clothe her! I was the one to push her to succeed in school while you played weekend dad.”

I knew Claire had heard something similar from Tristan, but she’d also heard how much he regretted leaving her with her mother for so many years. Claire would have to believe one or the other, and no amount of arguing through an open door in November would do anything to tip the balance either way. I believed Claire was smart enough to see how insane her mother’s behavior was, and also smart enough to have seen her father’s sincerity of late.

“Grandma didn’t lie, Mom,” Claire said, her voice still eerily calm and unemotional. “I talked to her last Monday when she called looking for you. I told her I was moving in with Dad. She questioned why, and then we got into an hour-long discussion of things you should have told me sooner.” Claire moved her attention to Tristan and then back to her mom.

Teresa hissed through gritted teeth, “My mother is a weak woman who forgave my bastard father too many times!”

Claire leveled her eyes at her mother and continued very calmly. “Stop. Just stop. No matter what Grandpa did, it doesn’t give you the right to be so cruel to Dad or hateful to anyone else—my best friend Danny included. One man’s mistakes shouldn’t ruin it for everyone else.”

“Yes, it does!” Teresa spat.

“No, it doesn’t,” Claire countered. “I didn’t want to believe Grandma. But now, especially after living with Dad for a few days, I can see how much he loves me. So if Dad says he wanted to see me when I was younger, I’ll believe him. If he tells me sleeping with you was a mistake because he always knew he was gay, I’ll believe him. And if this man says you poured Coke on that truck, I’ll believe him. Because I know you lie.”

“Claire, honey, it isn’t true. Please believe me,” she begged, changing her tone of voice yet again. She strained feebly against Bob Crane’s hold. “Your father was always working. Had I known he wanted to see you, you know I would have allowed it. Please, sweetness.”

“Don’t call me that,” Claire snarled. “You don’t get to use
his
nickname for me.”

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry. I’m accepting.
This
is the person you really are. So get out. I never want to see you again.” She turned away and pushed through the crowd of people by the door.

Tristan spoke up. “We could have worked this out, Teresa. I told you we would work this out, but you just committed a crime in front of a witness. You vandalized that truck!”

“I thought it was yours!” she yelled. She lost her meekness and flipped her switch back to raging bitch as soon as Claire walked away.

“It doesn’t matter. I have to call the cops. Danny’s dad has to be told about this. You can’t hide anymore.”

Just then, Teresa collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. I wasn’t sure it was for real, since she’d changed her tune several times during the conversation, but everyone else stepped back. Perhaps they weren’t sure what she would do. Tristan grabbed the phone off the counter and called the police.

In no time at all, a county sheriff pulled into the driveway and took statements from everyone as soon as he’d put Teresa into the back of his vehicle. The whole situation dampened the party spirit, and most guests left silently. Claire, Danny, and Kirsty were huddled on the couch as Tristan shut the door after thanking Bob Crane for his citizen’s arrest.

Tristan took my hand and walked me with him into the living room. We sat on the new loveseat, which sat catty-corner to the full couch. “Claire? Do you want to talk about this any more tonight?”

She lifted her head off Danny’s shoulder and shook it slowly before setting it back down. She was a wreck. Her mascara was smudged and clumped all along the rims of her eyes, and her lips held a sad frown. I squeezed Tristan’s hand, knowing he had to feel terrible for her.

“I spoke to your father, Danny. This wasn’t your fault, and I made sure he knew his truck would get repainted. Okay?”

Danny nodded.

“Can I use your phone to call my mom?” Kirsty asked. “My phone died while I was videoing Danny dancing, using FaceTime so our friend Christina could watch. It used too much battery.”

“Sure,” I answered, jumping up to retrieve the mobile phone right away. These kids shouldn’t have to see things like this, and yet shielding them from the realities of life would only do harm at some point. Claire needed to understand her mom was not right in the head. Better to find out like this than to be caught in the middle of something worse.

Kirsty called her mom and got picked up a short time later.

After Danny’s father came to get him, it was only the three of us again, sitting in the living room in silence. After some time, Claire got off the couch and sat next to Tristan. She pressed her body into his chest and cried against it as he held her. I handed her a tissue, and after she blew her nose, she got up and sat next to me. When she hugged me with as much love as she’d hugged her father, I felt deeply honored.

TERESA WAS
soon admitted into a Psychotic Disorders Unit at Sheppard Pratt Health System for a two-week evaluation, and Claire went to see a counselor. Tristan thought it best to let a professional handle the effects on Claire, since he had no idea how deep her pain and resentment went, and I wholeheartedly agreed. After Teresa was released, she packed up her stuff and moved without saying another word. Tristan hoped she’d return one day for Claire’s sake, and I hoped it would not be anytime soon. Claire needed to regain stability. To be abandoned like that would leave lasting scars on her heart.

THANKSGIVING CAME
and went, but with some good memories. Claire was not in a social mood, but Tristan’s mother had invited my mother over so we could all celebrate together. Tristan’s family was amazing! I could not think of another time where I had felt so completely loved and accepted. They truly made me feel like a part of the family. And Claire sat next to
me
at dinner.

BY DECEMBER,
my life had settled into a quiet routine. I worked ten to three, three days a week for the bank, and the rest of my time was spent working for Tristan. He laughed and joked about my work schedule, because he said it resembled the bankers’ hours of the 1960s. I didn’t care, because it was what I wanted. He really did need help with his finances, and the more I took care of them, the more time he had to spend with me in the evenings after work. I needed my easy bankers’ hours so I could be home with my family.

I helped Claire do her math homework after school, and thereby gained brownie points when she got an A on three quizzes in a row. I’d never known I could be a tutor, but the following week she brought home two other friends in need of math help. I’d never been so flattered.

Mel and Cindy had gotten engaged on Christmas Day. As I had assured Mel, his soul mate had been out there. Her name was Cindy. After the breakup, Cindy had gone home and researched what it meant to be transgender and then returned to Mel’s apartment two weeks later. She had argued with him about how he hadn’t given her a chance, and told him she was mainly upset from feeling cast aside. She had gone on their second date to tell him she’d broken up with her girlfriend in the hope of something deeper with him. She’d felt a connection on the first date. Once she apologized for assuming he’d been a lesbian and confessed her attraction to him, Mel had forgiven her and asked for a second chance. The day before my party, they had gone out on their fifth date.

DECEMBER 30
was my last day at the bank for a whole month. Tristan had given me a trip around the country as a Christmas gift, and we left for Boston to start our trip on New Year’s Day. Claire was super stoked to spend a month with Tristan’s mom. Apparently, both of them enjoyed time together, and Teresa had kept their visits to a minimum. I felt bad for them, but Claire and Mrs. Carr seemed pleased to make up for lost time while Tristan and I were gallivanting around the country. I couldn’t wait to leave, and yet I knew I would miss my new family and my friends at the bank.

I came back from the vault with my stack of change to find Jessica tapping her fingers on the half wall dividing our cubicles. Something was up.

“Are you okay? You seem preoccupied.” I deposited my money in my drawer and locked it up while I waited for her response. It was a Wednesday, and abnormally slow, so I hoped she would talk about whatever was bothering her because it would at least give us something to do.

“I’m… worried,” she said, keeping her eyes lowered.

“Why? Did Wes do something stupid?” I asked. I reached over and straightened my pile of deposit slips. They always seemed to get askew, even without being touched.

Her eyes shot up. “You knew?”

“About you and Wes? Yes,” I snorted. “Wes tells Tristan everything, and Tristan tells
me
everything. Why would you think you could date Wes and keep any of it a secret?” Ever since my party, the two of them had acted differently. It had only taken two days after our party for Wes to ask Tristan if he could ask out my close friend.

She crossed her arms on the dividing wall and rested her chin on them. “I don’t know what to do. Wes asked me to go away for the weekend. Since the shop is closed, he said he made plans to visit San Diego. I’ve never been to San Diego, so I said something about how fun that would be, and then he asked me to go.” She lifted her eyebrows, beseeching me. “Should I go?”