The Ex Files

Memory Lane, Taquitos and Beer

Eleanor pulled one of the spare pillows off the shelf in her closet, pushing back the towels, pillow cases, and miscellaneous outgrown clothes that had collected on top of it. She spotted the beach towel that Patrick had given her on her 28th birthday, pulled it out, and held it against her cheek.

She sank to the floor, her back against the wall, and cried.

What is wrong with me? I hate Edmonton, and it hates me. I could have gone anywhere after the divorce, but I chose to buy real estate here. What is the matter with me?

I thought I could be a successful landlady, impress Susan with my entrepreneurial genius, show Hal that I was far better off without him. Instead of that, I have more debts than I can count, one of Hal's exes and an ex-to-be sharing my house, plus a son who plays video games day and night and thinks it's my sacred duty to take care of him because his father doesn't understand him. I know that's his problem, not mine, and I have to get him out of here before he gets too comfortable, but here I am, getting him an extra pillow because it's almost midnight, too late to tell him to leave, especially since Hal is here watching my every move.

She had fully intended to have The Important Conversation with Patrick last night and send him on his way. But she had read the first four chapters of Tough Love instead, because it was easier than taking action. When she finally went downstairs to the rec room, Patrick was asleep on the couch with a video game streaming from his phone to the TV. She had shut everything off and thrown a blanket over him. It seemed only natural to take a quick tour of the cybercontents of Patrick's phone. She was his mother, after all, and he was in her house. While she was surveying his contact list, she found a phone number designated "Dad". It did not match Sean's number.

Could this be Jared? She had not talked to him since the day she told him that she would not be having an abortion. She didn't know anything about him except that he taught math at NorQuest College and had a live-in named Roseanne who was a control freak and partial to health food. Jared must have some good qualities, or he wouldn't have taken Pat in, suicide threat or no suicide threat. If she could persuade him to take Patrick back into his care, her problems would be solved. She found a piece of paper and a pen and wrote the number down.

After a restless night, she sat around in her dressing gown, drinking coffee, trying to decide on her next move. When Patrick oozed up the stairs to use the bathroom, she offered to make him pancakes. Perhaps eating together would facilitate productive discussion. But Patrick kept rambling on about his games, and it seemed rude to interrupt. When he was finished eating, he put his plate in the sink, thanked her very nicely, and disappeared downstairs. She was still sitting in her housecoat when Hal showed up.

Pam was on a face-to-face consultation with one of her clients in Canmore, he explained. She had decided to stay there for two nights, and he missed her. He had offered to go along, but she said she didn't like mixing business with pleasure.

Eleanor made him coffee.

While they were sitting in the living room, Hal inquired about the noise of explosions floating up the stairs.

"It's Patrick. He's playing video games."

"Patrick? You mean that nephew of yours who used to come to the house?"

"That's the one."

Hal drained his cup. "I think I'll go down and say hello."

Now it was almost midnight, and the two of them were still down there, playing those infernal games, interrupted only by a quick retail run for taquitos and beer.