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.