Bankers' Hours(45)

I shivered, half registering his proposal. Tristan was trying to help in  the only way he knew how, and part of me appreciated that, but the  other part knew there was nothing to be done until the quaking inside  subsided. He didn't understand how deep my fears went.

Just as I touched the tub wall to steady myself while I attempted to  stand, I heard Claire's voice. "Where's Grant? I want to tell him I'm  sorry about what I said."

Tristan jumped away from the tub and angled the door so she couldn't see  me as he blocked her path. "You could think of knocking before entering  my room. You know I'm married now. We're going to have to lay down some  rules."

I could imagine her rolling eyes by the sound she made. "Seriously?  Since when do we have rules? Dad! You're the guy who said rules are for  those who don't like to have fun."

He conceded. "Um, true." I could hear the embarrassment in his voice.  Then he amended, "But for fifteen years, it's only been the two of us.  Things are different now."

"Because of him," she huffed.

He stressed, "Yes, because of him. I love Grant, Claire. I will do  whatever necessary for him to be happy. So if I have to set down a few  rules for my spoiled teenage daughter, I will. Number one, no barging  into the bedroom like you did this morning or just now."

"Because you might be having sex," she said matter-of-factly.

"No! Good God, Claire. Why would you even say that?" he asked, shocked  out of his mind. I was alarmed by her statement as well, and mildly  wondered if she'd come in hoping to find us.

She made another disgusted sound. "I don't know. Mom does it, so I figured you'd probably do the same."

"Claire," he said, concerned, drawing her away from the door and into  the bedroom. I stood up and dried myself off. I removed my glasses,  wiped off the water droplets, and set them back on my face. I wanted to  hear what they were saying, so I leaned closer to the door. Tristan  continued, "I would never have sex while you were in the house, or at  the very least I'd lock the door. Has your mom … ? Have you … ?" He didn't  finish his thought, but it was implied strongly enough.

She snorted. "All the time."

My heart actually hurt for her. She was a kid. It wasn't right for her  to see things like that. But her next words made me gag on bile.

"When I was ten, I walked in on her with this guy she'd been seeing. I  didn't know what they were doing, but he was mounting her from behind  like the elephants I'd seen at the zoo. I stared for a few seconds,  listening to her moan. At first I thought he was hurting her, but she  kept saying, ‘Yes!' When I finally asked, ‘What are you doing to my  mom?' they both yelled at me to get out. She rarely remembers to close  the door, let alone lock it. I've seen all kinds of things."

Her admission was sobering, and I stopped shivering from spider-induced  heebie-jeebies. I rubbed the excess water from my hair, wrapped one  towel around my waist and another around my shoulders, and made a mental  note to bring over a robe. I walked into the room and joined Tristan on  the bed next to Claire just as she finished.

Tristan glanced at me but then hugged Claire from the side. "Oh, sweetness. I'm sorry. Why didn't you ever say anything?"

She lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. I didn't realize until seventh  grade that kids didn't know about that stuff. I mean, we have Health,  but it was never as graphic as what I'd seen. I was embarrassed to say  anything, because I didn't want anyone at school calling me a slut if I  corrected them. No one I knew was doing it anyway, so I let them think  they knew stuff."

"You could have said something to me," he said. He reached over and squeezed my knee, letting me know my presence was welcomed.                       
       
           



       

"Dad, I didn't think you cared. I know we've always had fun on our  weekends, but you never asked about my life with Mom. You never asked if  I wanted to live with you. You never asked if I enjoyed living with  Mom. I didn't know I had a choice."

"I'm sorry. I guess I haven't been a very good father."

"I survived."

"I do want you to live with us-that is, if you want to."

"I know. Mom told me. Actually, she yelled it. I'm sorry I told her you  were gay. She's been really weird lately. She's angrier than usual. She  got pissed and mentioned you were filing for full custody."

"Would you want that?" he asked.

Claire shrugged. "I don't know. I guess. Mom might drink too much, but  she's always been strict about my grades, homework, and chores. I've  come to appreciate it. I have a 3.9 GPA because of her. I want to get  into college, Dad. I don't know if I can, living with you."

"Why?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"Because you're the party guy. That's what Mom calls you. You're never  serious. In fact, I think today is the first time you've ever yelled at  me." She leaned forward and locked eyes with me. "I'm sorry, Grant. I  didn't mean to imply that you were a maid."

"Thanks," I replied. Having just this little bit of history about them  helped me see her and Tristan differently. This wasn't a change just for  me, but for both of them too.

Tristan let out a heavy sigh and said, "I'm sorry too. I guess the years  rolled by faster than I realized. I've been in a holding pattern since  the day you were born. I didn't know how to be a father. I joined the  military, served my country for four years, and then went to college. By  then, your mom had a nice little routine living with her mom, and I  felt as if I was intruding. We were never married, and I didn't want to  get in the way, especially after I figured out I was gay. I let her  raise you and played the weekend dad. Maybe I should have spoken up  sooner."

"Dad, it's fine. Mom pushed me-hard. I'm actually glad for it. After she  started drinking, I kept thinking I didn't want to be like her, so I  worked even harder. If you want me to live with you, then you have to  push me. Yell at me like you did about Grant. I'm not a little kid. I  want more than what Mom has. I know how much you give her every month,  because I've seen the checks, but I also see how much she spends on  booze. If you're serious about being a family, then I'm willing to try."

"How did you get so wise?" he asked.

"I don't know."

It had been nice to be a part of the conversation, at least marginally,  but I was done sitting around in towels. I was getting cold, and the  creepy feeling that a spider was lurking under the bed, getting ready to  scurry up my leg, prompted me to get dressed. "As nice as this talk has  been, I'd really like to get dressed," I told them.

Tristan patted my knee and rose. "Yes, definitely. Claire, will you give us a minute?"

She stood up. "Sure." She looked at me and said, "Again, I'm sorry. I'll  try to be more respectful next time …  Dad." She winked, much like her  father, and I instantly forgave her.

I nodded and gave her a grin.

Claire left the room and Tristan sat next to me again. "Are you sure you're all right? You freaked out pretty badly."

"I know." I bowed my head, embarrassed. "I've always been afraid of  spiders. I used to have nightmares about them hiding under my pillow. I  imagined spiders as big as buildings watching me as I walked down the  street. I felt them crawling on my arm in the middle of class, only to  scream and find out nothing was there. I went to a therapist when I was  eleven because my fears were so bad."

"Did someone lock you in a basement with a bunch of spiders or something?"

"No. No one has ever been able to explain it. I'm just terrified of  them. I think it's the legs-they scurry so fast. I don't know. My mother  pointed out one time that centipedes have more legs and run fast, but  for some reason they never bothered me like spiders."

He put his arm around me. "I'll make sure our house is spider free, okay?"

I nodded.

He eyes dropped to my chest, and another emotion washed over his face.  Lust. Tristan licked his lips. "I see your nipple isn't swollen anymore.  I never got the chance to use ice cubes on you."

I blushed. "No, but you could try that another time."                       
       
           



       

"Yeah?" He reached under the edge of my towel and rubbed my pec,  squeezing it and thumbing my nipple. "Will you lie back and let me kiss  you?"

I glanced at the door. "But Claire?"

"Just for a second. Please?"

I couldn't resist the desperate edge in his voice, especially when he  said please. I reclined, and Tristan brought his mouth down on my  nipple, licking and suckling me. I was slightly startled because he'd  said "kiss," but from the way he'd enjoyed my nipples so far, I wasn't  bothered that he actually meant "suck." In fact, it amused me. "You have  a nipple fetish, don't you?"