The Ex Files

Like a Violin

Alone at last! Eleanor sipped her sparkling pineapple-flavoured coconut water, a pleasant innovation introduced by Pam, and listened to the silence. She was reclining in her favourite chair. There was no chatter, no TV, no weird background music to distract her from the chirping of the birds drifting through the screen door to the patio. Max the cat was stationed at the screen, watching and listening, waiting for an opportunity to slip outside.

She had been longing for a moment like this for over a week. Now that it had finally come, it was not as idyllic as she had imagined. No matter how many cleansing breaths she took to release her tension and create inner peace, her thoughts kept intruding.

She should be ecstatic. It was a glorious Saturday evening in July, and she had Sunday and Monday off work. Pam had driven off with an overnight bag an hour ago, saying that she might be back tomorrow, or not. Kelly was working late, and wouldn't be home until seven or so, but she had had left flatbread dough proofing in the fridge (apparently all the finest Italian chefs proofed their dough for 48 hours) and had promised to coach Eleanor through the process of creating the ultimate late supper for the two of them. With addition of appropriate vintage, they could enjoy a carefree evening of female bonding to counteract the tension that had been building.

Pam had been a welcome addition to their family of friends until she got involved with Hal. Since both Hal and Pam worked unpredictable hours, his drop-in visits tended to occur at the most inconvenient times. Even when he was not around, he was the permanent elephant in the room.

Kelly was flipping between whirlwind mode, banging dishes and scrubbing everything in sight, and hermit mode, retreating to her room to commune with her self-help books. Her temper was on a hair trigger, and her complaints about her domestic workload were becoming more frequent. The more Kelly bitched about the fact that she was the Cinderella of the household, the less Eleanor was inclined to help. They kept talking about creating a simple, comprehensive and crystal clear schedule of chores, but never actually did it. It didn't help that Pam was unwilling to commit to anything because she might have an appointment with a client.

Eleanor sighed and looked at her watch. It was six-fifteen, and she was getting hungry. She scanned her mental inventory of possible snacks – all high-fat carb bombs – and decided that patience was a virtue. Stuffing her face now would probably unleash a twenty-four hour eating binge, which would be a dietary disaster. She had cut back on sweets, worked up to twenty-five breathless minutes on Pam's elliptical trainer, and lost two pounds. There was no outward change in her appearance so far, but her sore muscles reminded her that she was serious about making positive changes.

Was she doing this for herself, or to impress Hal? He had been wise enough not to comment on the fact that she weighed over a hundred pounds more than she did on her wedding day, but she imagined that he was wondering how she could have let herself go like that. After all, he was still trim and presentable. Kelly had mentioned that he was a bit pudgy when they met. She had remedied that by cooking keto for him, and now all his suits fit again.

Eleanor considered asking Kelly to cook keto for her, in the hope of creating dramatic results. But a high-fat diet sounded dangerous, and she would probably gain everything back, and more, the minute she stopped doing it. Sustainable weight loss was slow and boring, but it was what her doctor and nutritionist recommended. She had unearthed all the hand-outs she had received, plus Dr. Phil's book, but she hadn't found the time to read them. Maybe this week-end would be a good time to start.

Max left his post and streaked through the living room. Someone was at the front door. Too early to be Kelly. Had Pam's sleepover gone awry, or had she forgotten something? Eleanor sighed. Having housemates had compelling advantages, but she missed the good old days when she was the only one with a key to her front door.

"Whoa there, Max!" a voice said. Neither Kelly nor Pam, but a male voice with laughter in it.

Patrick! It had to be Patrick. He was the only other person who had a key.

Eleanor put her glass down on the end table and struggled with the lever on the recliner. She had to meet this challenge sitting up.

Patrick had been conspicuous by his absence since she moved. He had seen him only once, over two months ago. She had come home from work to discover him in the rec room, playing video games and demolishing her stash of diet coke and potato chips. He had two exams to write that day, but decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. Why bother, when failure was inevitable?

They had words, of course, but she didn't ask for her key back. She gave him twenty dollars and told him to get a take-out pizza. While he was out, she marshalled her arguments for the civilized discussion they would have about the importance of post-secondary education.

The conversation did not go well. He informed her that he was nineteen, a legal adult, and could make his own decisions. She told him that he was acting like an eight-year-old. He told her she was acting like an eighty-year-old with dementia. She started yelling and ordered him to get his sorry ass out of her house.

Patrick immediately changed gears and turned on the charm. He told her that university was not for him, but nobody was respecting his decision. Dad had a new live-in named Roseanne who believed in higher education and was forcing him to eat health food and get counseling. Dad had taken her side and issued an ultimatum – shape up or ship out. Now he was in desperate need for a safe haven to sort out his feelings.

She had caved in and let him stay overnight, and the next night, and the next, until Patrick's father decided to give him one more chance. But she was not going to cave in again. She couldn't cave in again.

Damn that kid. He was so much like Hal that it was hard to believe that they weren't father and son. They had never shared quality time, so there was little opportunity for them to rub off on each other, but they were like two peas in a pod. It was downright eerie how similar they were. No matter how often she decided not to be exploited, no matter how hard she tried to make her decisions stick, they always knew exactly how to play her like a violin.

"Hi, Mom." Patrick breezed into the living room as if he didn't have a care in the world, holding Max in his arms.

"Thanks for catching Max before he got out," Eleanor said. She didn't want to start fighting right away. His smile never failed to melt her heart.

Patrick planted himself on the couch with Max on his lap. Max submitted graciously for a minute or two, then jumped down and resumed his vigil at the screen door. Patrick pulled out his phone and started playing a game.

Eleanor had lots to say, but Patrick would never take her seriously. In his eyes, she was the Mother Who Didn't Care.

She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her e-mail.