The Ex Files

Nail-Biting

Eleanor's hands shook as she re-read Kelly's text message just to make sure that she had interpreted it correctly.

Call this number and ask for Eilidh Carmichael. She's the Human Resources maven at the hospital. Their Extended Care hair stylist walked off the job this morning and they are desperate for a temporary replacement. Six hours a day, $22.50 an hour..

Eleanor's head started to spin with questions.

When did the hospital start employing a hair stylist? How did Kelly find out about this? Will I have to bring my own supplies? Should I call right away, or wait until I've calmed down and thought things through? How in the world am I supposed to know the correct pronunciation for 'Eilidh'? How temporary is temporary? Should I cancel my job interview next week?

After a few hundred cleansing breaths, Eleanor decided to make the call without any further delay, even though she still felt shaky. She would ask for Ms Carmichael, bypassing the pronunciation issue. She would be up-front about her lack of qualifications if she were asked direct questions. She would act as confident as possible, even though she was not at all sure that she could survive six consecutive hours of work on an endless learning curve.

Her call was answered promptly by a receptionist, who informed her that Ms Carmichael was in a meeting and took her message. Forty-five minutes of nail-biting later, Eleanor's phone tinkled its tinny tune and the Highly Anticipated and Equally Dreaded Conversation began.

Ms Carmichael sounded friendly enough. She said that she was terribly busy and could not fit an interview into today's schedule, but if Eleanor would present herself at the office at 8:45 tomorrow morning, they would do a meet-and-greet and sent her off for orientation with someone from Extended Care. She would work 10 to 4:30 on a try-out basis, with a half-hour lunch break whenever she could fit it in. If all went well, they would meet again afterwards to discuss details and do any necessary administrative paperwork.

Ms Carmichael apologized for her crazy schedule, and made sure that Eleanor understood that she was only a temp, and the job would be posted for a minimum of two weeks for formal applications. Eleanor answered graciously, and asked what she should wear. Ms Carmichael said that scrubs were preferred, but if she had none, she should wear something casual, not overly warm, and washable.

Eleanor bade her a cheerful good-bye, waited until Ms Carmichael had disconnected, and shut her phone off. She yelled triumphantly, startling Max into dashing up the stairs.  Then she sat and shook, berating herself for her inability to tolerate a little stress.

Come on, Eleanor. This is a win-win. If I get a few days of work, I'll get cash and something to put on my resume. Who knows? I might even get the job if I apply for it. If things don't work out tomorrow and they tell me not to come back, I don't have to tell anyone, and I'll still earn enough money to feed me for a week.

She checked the time. 4:55 PM. Kelly should be home in an hour and a half. She wished she could call her now, thank her, burble on about future possibilities, and question her about last night. Kelly had come home after Eleanor was asleep (assuming that she came home at all) and was gone when Eleanor woke up. The only contact was a text message stating that she was cooking dinner "for the gang". Eleanor had made herself a Kraft dinner and speculated about what Kelly might be cooking, and how many people were in the aforementioned gang. Hopefully, she wasn't getting involved with Hal again.

She was rummaging through the kitchen cupboard, hoping to find something delicious to eat that she had overlooked the last time, when her sister Susan called.

"Can I come to the support group meeting with you tonight? I'm really antsy and worried. I just called Patrick, and he was not a happy camper. I think he was fishing for an invitation to come back here. Sean has mellowed a bit, so he would probably agree, but I don't want a repetition of what happened the last time. I know there's a group right here in Leduc, but I feel shy about going alone."

What's going on with Patrick that he didn't see fit to tell me? I thought we were getting really close, and now he's confiding in Susan. It's good that they've made up, but she's not his mother, I am.

Forget it, Eleanor. You're the one who gave birth to him, but you'll never be anything but The Mother Who Didn't Care.

"What's Patrick's problem?" she asked. "Anything more serious than his back hurts, his knee hurts, Stan is a slave driver, and Roseanne is a controlling banshee?"

"His girlfriend dumped him."

"Ouch. I thought they had already broken up."

"Officially, but they were still meeting on the sly. She said she was sick of not even being able to text him."

"That bites. Patrick won't be getting his phone back until he completes rehab."

"And you know what? I almost said that he could use my old one, and I would put him on our contract. That's when I realized that I've been working at cross-purposes with you, and it's making things worse for Pat."

Eleanor drew a sharp breath. She was being offered a prime opportunity for a new beginning in her relationship with Susan, and all she really wanted to do was stay home and talk to Kelly about her love life.

"If you pick me up at seven, that would be great," she said, trying not to sound too irritated.