The Ex Files

Pee on a Stick

This is it. Show time.

Eleanor was standing at the front door, watching Patrick gallantly helping Josie out of the back seat of their taxi. Like many first-time prospective fathers, he was treating the mother-to-be as if she was made of spun glass.

Josie was tall and slender, with an abundance of long blond hair escaping from the hood of her sapphire blue cloak. She walked close to Patrick, holding his hand, matching his steps, looking up into his face while he talked.

Look at that sweet, innocent face! Eleanor thought. I was expecting a scared teen-ager with pimples, not a princess out of a fairy tale. No wonder Patrick got hooked. It's going to be really hard not to give her anything she wants. Does she really care for Patrick, or is she just playing him? I wonder what her addiction is. Sex? High fashion shopping? Compulsive lying?

Why did I invite them to come here? A simple 'no' would have been enough to solve my problem. This baby, if it even exists, is not my responsibility. If she wants to abort it, she will. If she wants to keep it, she'll find a way without my help.

Too late now. I have to go through with this. If I just pretend I'm a character in a soap opera, I'll manage.

Eleanor opened the door, smiling welcoming hellos, keeping all her reservations to herself. Patrick was eager and helpful, hanging up Josie's things and offering to help her remove her knee-high leather boots. She declined, and walked down the hallway into the kitchen, leaving patches of grungy dampness behind her. Patrick removed his shoes and followed her in his sock feet.

Josie was wearing a pink tunic with slightly puffed sleeves and appliqued roses, over dusty rose velour leggings. Her make-up was not obvious, but masterfully applied, giving her a look of wide-eyed wonder. Eleanor realized that she was hopelessly outclassed by this stranger who claimed to be seventeen, but had already emerged from teen-age awkwardness into full-fledged womanhood.

"Would you like me to make some tea?" Eleanor asked.

"No, thank you," Josie said with sweet decisiveness. "We only have a few minutes."

"That's too bad," Eleanor said. "I was hoping we could get to know each other."

"There will be lots of time for that later," Patrick said, with a trace of discomfort. "Maybe we should just go and see the room, and then we can talk."

"Sure," Eleanor said. "Follow me."

Josie descended the stairs with a slight frown, taking in every detail of the basement. Eleanor opened the door to the bedroom and ushered her inside.

"We'd have to get a bed, of course," she said.

"I've already checked out Ikea," Patrick said. "They have a bed with lots of storage drawers that I really like. We can get a change table and crib there too, quite reasonably."

Josie wrinkled her nose. "All those stairs – and no bathroom. This is not comfortable at all."

"There are good people living here," Patrick said, "They will help you any way they can. There's a lot to be said for having a resident grandmother."

"Babies need more than love and good intentions," Josie said. "They are expensive and demanding. And when they become toddlers, they're insufferable."

Patrick looked at his mother helplessly. He had been hoping that the two women would bond instantly, but the distance between them was growing rather than lessening.

"Let's sit in the living room and chat for a bit," Eleanor suggested. "Maybe we can figure this out."

"I suppose," Josie said. "But I must say, I'm very disappointed. I don't think I can live here, away from all the amenities of the city. I'd go crazy."