The Ex Files

Pancakes and Three Mothers

"I really like your book report," Eleanor told Patrick. "You dug in deep and considered all sides of the question. Maybe you should consider a career in journalism."

"Maybe," Patrick said. "Computer science seemed to be the way to go, but it's really boring."

They were sitting in the kitchen, finishing a leisurely breakfast. Pancakes this time, because this would be their last breakfast together. Tomorrow, Patrick wouldn't have time for anything but a quick piece of toast before Stan the Landscaper came to claim him.

She wanted to give him some wise, last-minute maternal advice. Something he could carry with him through the difficult days. But she couldn't think of anything with a shred of originality.

"Maybe you'll enjoy landscaping," she said.

"I don't know about that, but I'm itching to get outside and move around. I didn't sleep at all last night, and I am so twitchy now that I can't sit still. It's like my head is going to explode any minute."

Eleanor stood up. "Okay, sport. Let's go downstairs and work out on Pam's fitness equipment. That should take the edge off."

"Can't we just take a walk?"

"Actually, no. I phoned in sick, and that might bite me in the ass if someone sees me."

"Okay. I guess it's better than nothing."

This is going to be so embarrassing, Eleanor thought. I'm just a mountain of fat, huffing and puffing. He'll be traumatized for life.

"It's really cool that you've started working out," Patrick said.

"You might not think so after you see me in action. I've got a long way to go."

"We both do," Patrick said.

The next hour passed more quickly than she imagined possible. She played retro rock music for inspiration, and they cheered each other on. Even though they took two breaks, she accomplished more than she ever had before. She was going to feel this tomorrow, but it was worth it.

"You did awesome, Mom," Patrick told her after they had showered and re-grouped in the living room, sipping coconut water. "I could see how hard it was for you, but you just wouldn't give up until you reached your goal."

She smiled at him. "I had a good coach."

"Not really," Patrick said ruefully. "I'm more out of shape than I realized. Dad's been nagging me to come to the gym with him, and I'm going to take him up on it."

"I'll miss you," Eleanor said. "Keep in touch."

"I can't text, but I'll phone. I don't think they allow outside contact at the ranch. But I'll think about you every day."

"So will I. Every hour. Maybe every minute."

Patrick hugged himself. "I'm scared, Mom. What if rehab doesn't work and I just flush my life down the toilet?"

"You have three women who think of you as their son, and we will fight for you every step of the way. Failure is not an option."

Patrick groaned. "Three mothers to torment me! I'm living every kid's nightmare!"

"I know I haven't earned the right to lecture you. I hid from the responsibility of being a mother, and I'm trapped in a love affair with food. I need help just as much as you do, maybe more."

"So let me lecture you for a change. Stay away from Uncle Hal. He's not good people, and he will always be a millstone when you need him to be a life preserver."

Eleanor desperately wanted to shrug that judgement off, but she knew that she couldn't. Patrick was speaking from his heart, and he deserved an answer from hers. "I could kick you for saying that," she said, weighing and measuring each word for truthfulness, "but you're right. I tried to hitchhike my way to happiness, and I picked the wrong driver."

"The only one who can drive that car is you."

"How did you get to be so smart?"

"What can I say? I'm a guy with three mothers."