The Ex Files

A Mostly Nude Cowgirl

Kelly was sure she'd won the lottery the day she saw Eleanor's ad on Home Finders.

Modern home with finished basement, back yard with fire pit, waiting for a housemate to enjoy It with me. Large bedroom with en suite 2-piece bathroom, shared kitchen, living space and laundry. $700 a month, utilities included. Call after 6PM to arrange a tour.

The photos were wonderful, just like a professional real estate agent would post. The house at 221 Nestor Street did not resemble them at all. Instead of the trendy split-level home pictured on the ad, this was a three-story, weatherbeaten monstrosity in a washed-out blue reminiscent of twelve-year-old jeans.

Grass and dandelions were growing through the cracks in the pathway leading to front door. Kelly opened the rusty wrought iron gate and stepped through. Was there any point in making the effort to cross the lawn, climbing the three steep cement steps, and ringing the doorbell? This had to be the wrong address!

She looked up and down the street, hoping to spot the dream house in the photos. Nothing even came close. This was a vintage neighbourhood. Each house had its own individual character, but they were all sagging with age, in need of repairs and upgrades. The only positive feature she noted was the abundance of old trees shading the street.

She sighed. Maybe this wasn't even the right street. She had lived in Edmonton all her life, but she had never explored this part of town. At least it was close to her work and the university. That would be handy if she ever followed through with her plan to return and complete her degree.

Her gut instinct was to walk away. But her lease expired in four days. After Kareem packed his duffel bag and left, telling her that she was too anal for anyone to deal with, she had sunk into despondency and procrastinated and procrastinated, hoping against hope that he would come back, tell her he had made a terrible mistake, and pay all the overdue bills.

When she started dating Hal five months ago, she imagined that her housing problems would soon be solved. He was an award-winning financial advisor with an elegant condo, two new vehicles, and a king-sized designer wardrobe. If she made herself indispensable, it was only a matter of time until she could leave her apartment behind and start a new life.

But the time was not yet. Hal wanted her around when he was lonely or needed a Cinderella to clean his toilet and run errands, but he was not generous about sharing his space. He was amenable to the occasional sleep-over, but many nights she had to find her own way home in the early hours of the morning.

She pulled out her phone and texted Eleanor.

Hi. I think I'm lost. Did I get the address wrong?

The door flew open, revealing a woman in a pink kaftan. During their phone conversation, Kelly had imagined a slim, sophisticated executive with a six-figure salary capable of supporting the mortgage on real estate worth over half a million dollars. This person was almost as wide as she was tall, with voluminous blonde hair that rivalled Dolly Parton's.

"Hello," the woman called. "Are you Kelly?"

Kelly collected herself and took a couple of steps forward. At least the voice was right, just like the warm, motherly personality on the phone. "That's me."

"I'm Eleanor.' The woman opened the door to its full width, grabbing a huge orange cat before it could slip out. "Come on in."

The entryway was littered with shoes, a basketball, and an overstuffed closet. The living room was reasonably pleasant, with an overabundance of ill-assorted artwork on the walls, a sectional couch, a recliner, some book shelves cluttered with miscellanea, and sliding glass doors opening onto the back yard. The grass needed mowing, but at least there was a fire pit on the patio, as advertised.

Eleanor chattered non-stop as they mounted the stairs. Kelly tried to pay attention, but she was too overwhelmed.

Eleanor pulled back one of the doors on the second floor. "Voila!"

Kelly stared. "It's full of boxes."

"Oh, I'll have that cleaned out in no time. The previous tenant is having trouble getting his act together. When did you want to move in?"

"The day after tomorrow. Saturday. My boyfriend has a couple of hours available in the morning."

Kelly tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She didn't want to move in at all. Not now. Not ever. Why wouldn't Hal share his condo with her? It had two bedrooms, a den, and a kitchen large enough to skate in, with a granite-topped island and a breakfast bar -- more than enough space for the two of them.

She looked around the room. It might not be too unbearable once the boxes were gone. It was bigger than the bedroom of her current apartment, with a slightly warped hardwood floor that needed to be sanded and refinished. The walls were painted classic off-white. One window looked out onto the street, and another over the neighbour's hedge into their garden, which was bursting with flowers, bird houses, hummingbird feeders, and decorative statuary. A giant 2012 calendar hung from a nail, open at the December page, featuring a mostly nude cowgirl sitting on Santa's lap.

Eleanor followed her gaze and hastily pulled the calendar off the nail. "Do you have a current calendar? I can give you one of my spares."

"No need," Kelly said. "I have a very nice one, with Van Gough paintings."

"Van Gough? Who's he?"

"I'm sure you're seen some of his work. He painted sunflowers and cut off his ear."

Eleanor looked puzzled. "That sounds very ... cultured."

Kelly couldn't resist asking the question that was running through her mind like a crazed squirrel. "What's the point of a calendar that's two years out of date?"

"Harris – the previous occupant -- liked that picture. He just kept the calendar at December all the time."

Good thing he's not here anymore, Kelly thought. Someone with that kind of taste would drive me crazy.

Kelly peered into the closet. It was a good size, with sturdy shelving at either end. She surveyed the room again.

"Where's that en suite bathroom you mentioned?"

Eleanor backed into the hall and flung open another door. "Right here. Just a couple of steps."

"En suite means that it is part of the room," Kelly protested. "Exclusively mine."

"There's no one else on this floor," Eleanor said. "It's just like en suite."

"Do you have another room available with no boxes in it?"

"Actually, yes. But it's furnished."

Kelly's head was spinning. She leaned against the wall.

Eleanor put her arm around her shoulders. "You look exhausted. Let's have a cup of tea and talk."

Kelly nodded numbly. There wasn't anything to talk about, really. No way could she stay in this horrid place. But she had nowhere else to go.