"Are you going to her house, or asking her to come here? I don't want you alone with Teresa, but I'm not keen on seeing her again."
Tristan closed the computer. I could tell this was difficult for him, as he rubbed his head and paused before answering. His jaw was tight, and his voice was strained. "I guess … I guess I'll ask her to come here. You don't have to stay if she makes you uncomfortable. We used to be on good terms, and she often popped in unexpectedly. Coming here would be natural. I rarely go there."
"Then when?"
"I guess now," he lamented. He ran a weary hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. "I'm afraid if I wait, she'll only come up with something else to torment me." He took out his cell phone and started pressing buttons.
"You're calling her now?" I asked, shocked.
He nodded. "The twenty minutes Claire mentioned means she's already on her way. If I can catch her in the car, then she might stop by for five minutes." He paused and then cocked his head in a way that told me she'd picked up. "Hey," Tristan said in a different tone of voice. He shifted in his seat and sat up. "I was wondering if you'd mind stopping by for five minutes?" He paused again. "No. I wanted to talk to you while Grant was out." I bugged my eyes out and he waved his hand at me. "Yeah. I wanted to ask you some things about Claire, and if I can catch you before the weekend, I'd appreciate it. I really want things to work out. Okay … . Yeah. Okay. Thank you. Bye."
He hung up and I fussed, "Why did you lie?" Not that I didn't lie on occasion myself, but I wasn't in the habit of blatant fabrications.
"I didn't," he explained. "You're going to move your car to the other side of the shop and hide out in the office until I text you."
"What? I'm not leaving you alone."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not. She's psychotic, and possibly sociopathic. She could do anything!" I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I don't want to leave."
"All right," he relented. "Then move your car to where she can't see it, and hide out in our room. Only this time, don't rush out like a bristled badger, spewing things like, ‘we're getting married,' or ‘we're adopting children.' I need her to think we're alone." Tristan paused and studied me. I could only imagine my expression after he'd mentioned kids and called it "our room." A tinge of color painted his cheeks, the first I'd seen on him. He had to be reading my mind again. He smiled softly. "Give it time, Grant. I'm not opposed to adopting kids, but I'd rather be married to you longer than two weeks. How about we revisit the idea in a couple of years?"
I melted into Tristan as he spread his legs on the chair and opened his arms for me. His embrace was reassuring yet fleeting as he pulled back and instructed me to move my car before Teresa showed up. I was safely in our room, hiding in the closet behind my shirts, when I heard him open the door.
"Hello, Teresa," he said.
He closed the door, and Teresa asked, "So why do you want to talk to me? Am I right? Did you and your gay lover break up? Are you finished lying to our daughter about living your life with another man?"
I could imagine him growling in frustration, even if I couldn't hear it. "Teresa, stop. I don't understand why you're doing these things, but I know it's you." He'd warned me about his intent to jump right into her attacks, even though I thought he should work up to the subject. Tristan had said Teresa could be difficult, and he'd learned to be direct.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she countered defensively.
"Teresa," Tristan broached. "I know about the spiders and the snake, and I know you were the one who hit me."
"What?" she screeched. "You're sick, Tristan. I don't know why you had me come here." I heard the door rattle, and she shook it. Then her voice betrayed her panic. "Why'd you lock the door? You can't prove anything! What are you going to do, kill me? You'd go to jail and never see Claire again. I can't believe you're going to do that to her!"
"Teresa, don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to kill you. I want to know why you're trying to kill me?"
She laughed hysterically. "Kill you? That's funny. As if a few spiders could harm anyone."
"Then you admit you put them in my house?"
More laughter drifted through the house into the bedroom closet, but it was sad laughter, defeated laughter. "Of course I did. I figured that little pansy of yours would run screaming after something-spiders, earwigs, snakes. I was planning on ants next and then bees, but finding an active hive in late October has been difficult. So, tell me, did he leave you?"
I clenched my fists to keep from bursting from my hiding spot. I'd never been so insulted. Spider phobias were universal, not strictly male or gay male issues. She made me so angry with the stupid statements she tossed around.
"No, Teresa. Grant is my husband. He's always going to be my husband. In fact, we were just talking about adopting kids."
I warmed with joy. It moved me how often we thought alike.
"Ah!" she scoffed. "I've never heard of something so sick."
"Teresa, stop it. Some babies have zero parents. So you're telling me you'd rather those kids grow up orphans than find a family with two dads?"
"Yes," she sneered.
As I waited and listened, the smell of my fabric softener filled my nostrils and calmed my nerves. I really did like cleanliness. The more Tristan and I had purged his crap and organized his clutter, the more I settled into living in his house-our house. I would have to tell him we could stay here when all the trauma with Teresa was over.
Tristan retorted, "Then I guess we're done here. You're sick, Teresa. I can't believe you'd fill my shop with earwigs, let alone hit me in the head with a crowbar. You need professional help. What if you had actually succeeded in killing me? Did you really think you'd get away with it? What would happen to Claire when her mother was sent to prison?"
"I'm not going to prison, and you're the one who needs help, Tristan. Homosexuality isn't natural," she snarled.
"Yes, it is. For me, it's as natural as breathing. So you can stop attacking me, or I'll press charges."
"You have no proof!" she barked.
"Yes, I do. I took pictures of everything in the shed, and several videos. Jeff even heard your car peel out of here on Tuesday. I've sent everything to my lawyer, and he's waiting to hear from me about pressing charges."
Tristan was lying with that one, but I knew it was to show he wasn't joking, and probably to keep her from rushing home to destroy the evidence.
"No one will believe you," she insisted with less conviction.
"Yes, they will. I'll have the cops send a car to your house so fast you won't have time to get rid of the spiders or throw away the net you used to capture that snake. I'll have it all documented." Tristan's smooth, calculating tone made me shiver. He sounded so in control, so dominating, even though he kept his voice as level as normal.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice now the exact opposite of his in its timidity.
"I want you to talk to a doctor, preferably a psychologist. You need to talk about your obsession with hurting me, and the anger you have toward your father and men in general. You also need to stop drinking. Lastly, I want Claire full-time."
"Please don't take Claire from me, please?" she begged. Her desperation was so strong and unexpected that I came out of the closet and peered into the living room. Teresa was on her knees at Tristan's feet, tugging on the bottom of his shirt. "Please don't take her," she pleaded, dropping her hands to the floor in front of her. She sobbed into the carpet until Tristan bent down and lifted her face.
"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."