The Ex Files

Brandy and Ladybugs

Healthy boundaries. Healthy boundaries. 

 It's time to say something before things spin out of control. If we want this to work, we're going to have to work at it.

Kelly had read her three favourite self-help books in the past two weeks and tried to implement their recommended strategies. But nothing was working. She had asked for a house meeting four different times, and Eleanor had always found an excuse to put it off until a more convenient time.

Kelly, Eleanor, and Pam had adjourned to the rec room after supper to watch a documentary about natural garden pest control. This was not a subject that interested Kelly, but Eleanor was passionate about gardening (as long as she did not have to bend over) and had sucked Pam into her enthusiasm. They were discussing the possibility of taking advantage of a special offer to acquire two hundred and fifty ladybugs to rid the garden of aphids. Kelly was of the opinion that a ladybug invasion was unnecessary until they actually planted something worth protecting from aphids, but she kept it to herself. According to Multifaceted Friendships, it was best to abstain from discussing matters that she was not prepared to invest in. Between her job, her efforts to keep the house livable, and the way that she usually ended up doing the cooking even when it was not her turn, there was no room on her to-do list for gardening chores.

Kelly nursed her second brandy Alexander, letting her mind wander wherever it wished. She could feel the alcohol coursing through her body, mellowing her. Was this issue really important enough to waste the opportunity for a tranquil evening?

The longer you delay, the harder it will be, the Spirit of Self-Help whispered in her ear. There is no better time to act than right now.

Shut up! Kelly's Inner Adolescent countered. I know what I'm doing. I've worked a full shift at the hospital, tidied up the entryway, done two loads of laundry and made dinner. I deserve some peace and quiet.

You also deserve healthy boundaries. If you don't make it happen, it never will.

Kelly considered making another brandy Alexander, and decided against it. Alcohol, like sex, can be a problem, but it is never a solution.

The closing credits rolled down the screen. Eleanor pointed with her remote and shut the television down.

"What's next?" she asked brightly. "Virgin Territory is coming on in ten minutes, or we can record that and pick something from the on-demand array."

"I have a problem," Kelly blurted.

Both Pam and Eleanor looked at her with mild astonishment.

"What's the matter?" Eleanor said. "I thought everything was going beautifully."

"Every time I come home, Hal is in our living room drinking our coffee. This isn't Coffee Plus, you know."

"Not every time," Pam said. "He missed Wednesday last week."

"Why is it a problem?" Eleanor asked. "You're never in the living room until after dinner anyway,"

"That's because I'm cleaning up after you and getting dinner ready," Kelly burst out. "I'm not Cinderella, you know. And yesterday, you invited Hal to stay for dinner."

"It was my night to cook and I was going to call Herman's Hash House."

"You know I can't afford Herman's! I still haven't paid off my moving expenses."

"It would have been my treat," Eleanor said placatingly. "I would never expect you to cook for Hal. I know how much you resented doing that."

"You can't afford Herman's either, and you know it!"

"Don't tell me what I can't afford! I have my know-it-all sister Susan for that!"

Kelly and Eleanor glared at each other. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Would it help if Hal and I went to a coffee shop instead of meeting here?" Pam asked. "I didn't realize his presence was a problem."

"You're dating Hal?" Kelly asked incredulously.

"Not really. More like flirting. I find him interesting. I was at one of his financial marketing workshops, and he was dynamite."

"Oh yes," Kelly said. "Executive Hector, the miracle worker. Have you met Homebody Hal, the perpetual whiner?"

"I like his vulnerability."

"Have you cooked for him yet?"

"I prepared steak tartare for him once, with taro root and some lovely organic greens. He stir-fried his portion. After tasting it, he wrinkled his nose and told me I should learn how to cook steak and potatoes like a true Albertan. Then he scraped his food into the garbage and called the Stampede Steak House. I don't think he'll invite me into his kitchen again."

Despite herself, Kelly chuckled. The mental image of Hal vs. Raw Food Diet was priceless.

She marveled at Pam's composure. Despite the fact that there was no cooking involved, steak tartare was a lot of work to make, scraped laboriously from prime tenderloin and combined with raw egg and capers, mustard and wine in just the right proportions. She had seen it being prepared on Gastronomic Miracles, but she had never encountered it in real life.

"You're lucky to have escaped from the gastronomic treadmill," Kelly said. "Once Hal discovered that I could cook, he never wanted to buy another ready-made meal." She was starting to feel better about the situation, and wondered why she had obsessed so much about it.

Talk it out, don't act it out was wise advice. She would post it on her bathroom mirror if she weren't sharing the facilities with Pam.

"Have you slept with him?" Kelly asked, and immediately regretted it. That was the brandy talking. Sober Kelly knew that it was none of her business.

"No. I told him I am trans,"

"You're trans, as in trans-gendered?" Kelly gasped.

"Not really. I just discovered that most men will back off when I tell them that."

"But Hal is still buzzing around you like an eager bee."

"He's intrigued," Pam said. "He keeps pressing me for details."

"I need another drink," Kelly said, and headed upstairs.