The Senator's (ex) Wife

Ellie Worthington woke with a start. She was vaguely aware of a loud, relentless noise. She was acutely aware that her head felt like an anvil was sitting on it. “Ooooh,” Ellie said as she placed her palm to her forehead. As she sat up, it became clear to her that the noise was her phone. She would have ignored it entirely if the ringing wasn’t piercing through her like a hot knife through butter. Ellie fumbled for the phone receiver on her nightstand.

“Helloooo,” she managed weakly, trying to convey what a trouble it was for her to exist right now to whoever may be calling.

“Mom. Have you been throwing your garbage onto Dad’s yard?”

Ellie paused. “Why are you asking me this, Bobby?”

“.....Because I know you have been throwing your garbage onto Dad’s yard.”

“Well, no. To be accurate, I have been throwing my garbage onto your stepmother’s yard. Your father just happens to live there as well.”

Bobby let out a sigh and instructed his mother to come to his house that afternoon for a talk. Ellie hung up the phone frustrated to be summoned to yet another scolding. She wrapped herself in a fur-trimmed silk robe and downed two aspirin without water. She rang the buzzer to call her longtime maid, Minnie.

Minnie poked her head into the master bedroom. Her upturned nose always made her look like a cartoon stumbling upon humanity. “I’m surprised you’re up,” Minnie stated honestly. Ellie only ever got up this early on Thursdays to throw her garbage onto her ex-husband’s yard. Yesterday was Thursday.

Ellie sighed dramatically. “I am as well. The jig is up. Bobby knows about the garbage and objects to how I have been disposing of it. He has summoned me to his house for a talk this afternoon.”

“Bobby always is ruining your fun,” Minnie uttered ever so empathetically. “Shall I get breakfast ready then?” Ellie nodded her throbbing head.

Ellie surveyed herself in her vanity mirror. When did I get so old? She always pictured living her life as her twenty-five-year-old self until reflections rudely reminded her that she had aged. “Who needs mirrors anyway?” Ellie said out loud as she pushed the vanity mirror downward, away from her gaze.

***

Ellie’s son lived over the bridge in Jamestown. She still could not believe that someone had allowed her to become a mother. She had not even wanted to get married in the first place. But women of her age, and position, became wives and mothers. There was no other choice. And she had been lucky enough to marry a senator. Her parents would not have been prouder if she herself was a senator. Once they were married they were treated like royalty. Except Ellie was always saying the wrong thing to the press. Or hanging out with the wrong people - mediums and psychics instead of influential socialites. Her lack of traditional values combined with her husband’s lack of fidelity finally led them to divorce in their early 50s. After a lifetime together had passed. Once the divorce was finalized everyone in polite society who had humored her during her marriage firmly shut their doors to Ellie. She told herself that she didn't mind, that most people were humorless prudes who bored her. But she could not ignore how life had been kinder when women with white gloves and pearls had welcomed her in society parlors.

Her greatest pride was not her son - but that she had somehow managed to keep their home in Newport, Rhode Island in the divorce settlement. Then her ex-husband had the nerve to buy another home just down the road. To make matters worse, one of his mistresses was dumb enough to marry him. Now they paraded around Newport as if they were the Astors during the Gilded Age. But Ellie knew what they were - trash.

***

Ellie pulled into the driveway of Bobby’s understated, shingled home. Ellie knew he was lying in wait to take his father’s Senate seat. That’s what today’s scolding would really be about - how her behavior was impacting his image. She took a deep breath before exiting the car.

Bobby answered the door exactly two seconds after she rang the bell. “Hello, mom,” he greeted her, already exhausted by their interaction. The feeling was mutual.

“Do you have vodka or gin, I need a martini.”

“Mom, it’s 2 p.m.!”

“Or vermouth- just vermouth would suffice.”

“How about some rubbing alcohol? I have that.” Ellie heard the venom in his voice and decided it would be best to make her own cocktail. She knew where his bar was anyway. She had paid to have it installed. “I’m sorry, I will not sit through one of your scoldings sober.” She pushed past her son and made her way into the house.

“Of course not, I would never expect you to,” Bobby retorted sarcastically.

Ellie stopped short in her tracks. There was a young blonde woman in the kitchen who would have been far too attractive for her son if he was not a senator’s son. “And who is this?” Ellie asked with one eyebrow raised.

“This is Sophie.” Bobby introduced them to each other awkwardly.

“I’m just on my way out, but it was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Worthington. I hope to see you again soon,” Sophie said wide-eyed and sweetly. Ellie wanted to warn her. To run. To make her own life before a man and his ambitions ruined it. Instead, she bid her a polite goodbye and decided that her martini needed a double shot of whatever her son had on the bar.

“Mom, I wanted to talk to you about your behavior and how it is being perceived in the community.”

“Oh, my favorite topic - how I am being perceived by the puritans in this community.” Good, her son had gin. She opened the bottle and let the smell of juniper berries fill her nostrils.

“Not only are your antics upsetting Dad and Paris-”

“Please call her by her correct name and title - the Political Prostitute Paris.” Ellie measured out two jiggers of gin and plopped them aggressively into her glass.

Bobby sighed. “You can’t call Paris that.”

“Correction - I can do whatever the hell I damn please. And who honestly names their daughter Paris? Were her parents too ignorant to know that Paris is a boy’s name?”

“This isn’t ancient Greece, mom. And the proper gender of Paris’ name isn’t the point of today’s talk. All of your neighbors and Dad’s neighbors on Bellevue Ave are noticing your Thursday trash routine. And they are getting quite annoyed by it. These are powerful people who have the capacity to fund Dad’s continued Senate campaigns.”

“Or your future Senate campaigns,” Ellie raised a glass in mock cheers to her son.

“They also have the power and influence to undermine his campaigns.”

“Or your campaigns, which is what we are really concerned about here.”

Bobby placed his hand on his mouth and thought carefully. His mother was a wild card. He had always known this. Between her lack of filter and heavy drinking, she could literally say or do anything. The marriage to his father was the one thing that had kept her tethered to polite society. Once they divorced, the thin string was cut. She felt no need to adhere to any type of behavior or expectation now that she was no longer welcomed in the circles that she used to run. “Why are you throwing your garbage onto their yard, mom?”

“Because of the nerve!” Ellie balled her fist tightly and downed her remaining martini in one large gulp.

“.....do you care to elaborate?”

“I lost absolutely everything in the divorce, Bobby. Even you.” Bobby opened his mouth to speak, but Ellie continued. “No, no. Your mother is many things, but she is not stupid. I. Lost. Everything. And by some miracle, I managed to keep the Newport home. You know I studied art history. You know how much I love that house - the blue marble walls and aquamarine chandeliers. I thought I had really won something. Just one thing. But then your father had the nerve to buy another home down the road. To make matters worse, one of his mistresses was dumb enough to marry him. Now they parade around Newport as ‘Senator and Wife.’ I can’t go anywhere without someone reminding me that I’m the Senator's ex-wife.”

“Ah.” Bobby nodded in understanding. He thought she was absolutely crazy but he understood how she felt slighted. That, coupled with her aching need to create drama everywhere, meant there would be no reasoning with her. “That must hurt you, mom. To have to see them together. You don’t have to like them. Or be neighborly toward them. But I am asking you to please stop throwing your trash onto their yard. Do it for me.”

Ellie’s sharp edges softened a little. She could not say that she had been a good mother. She definitely was not. The guilt tore at her sides during brief moments of self-perception.

“I suppose I could stop throwing my trash onto their yard but ONLY because you have asked me to.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” Bobby relaxed for the first time since his mother had arrived. He would make a better senator than her ex-husband. And she did not think that out of maternal feeling. Ellie lacked maternal feeling entirely. Her son was kind. He cared about helping people. She thought about telling him that she loved him. But then felt flushed with embarrassment. Ellie practically jumped from her seat and announced that it was time for her to leave.

“Be nice to that Sophie,” she said to her son as she got into her car. He turned red on the top of his ears. Maybe this girl will be the one, she thought to herself. Or at least the first one.

***

Ellie took the long way home. She found her way onto Ocean Drive from Thames Street. She admired the jagged rocks that reached out into the crashing waves and felt as if she was on the edge of the world. But if she was being honest, she always felt as if she was on the edge of the world. She thought about steering her car into the ocean and the newspaper headlines it would garner. “Senator’s Ex-Wife Crashes in Front of Tourists.”

“The hell with this pity party!” Ellie exclaimed to herself. She knew what she would do tonight. She would call Ronan - her astrologer and best friend. He may be on her payroll. But all of her best friends were.

Ronan arrived just as the sun was setting beneath the horizon. The first stars of the summer night were beginning to appear. Ellie greeted him at the door of her prized Newport manor. “What is in the stars tonight, Ronan?” she asked, looking up.

“Change, my dear. Change is in the stars.” Ronan replied through a thick Cork accent, even though he was born and raised in Somerville, Massachusetts. He understood the importance of appearances perhaps even more than Ellie did.

***

Ellie walked Ronan around the house for an hour. She pointed out all her new acquisitions - Monets and Picassos, faux Medieval furniture, and items that she knew were fakes but could not resist. All the while Minnie followed, re-filling their glasses as soon as the ice began to clink the hollow sound of a half-full cocktail. By the time they sat down to do Ellie’s astrology reading, Minnie had to regretfully inform them that the sapphire blue bottle, once banned during prohibition, was now empty.

“My God,” Ronan exclaimed in what may or may not have been an accurate Cork accent, “We've drunk all the gin!”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be the first time,” Ellie said with a twinkle in her eye.

“I will have Thomas run out immediately to purchase more provisions,” Minnie said with a solemn nod as if this mistake should never have occurred.

“Nonsense,” Ellie replied, “We live in one of the greatest drinking towns in America. Thomas will take Ronan and me to Riche-Sur-Mer.”

***

Ronan held the door of Riche-Sur-Mer open for Ellie with a dramatic bow. Ellie walked into the dark bar lit by dim chandeliers and flickering candlelight. Bartenders in suits passed champagne cocktails to women who looked like they could not afford the tap water. Men in their twilight years held unlit cigars and laughed at jokes unheard, bellies shaking up and down.

As Ellie scanned the bar for an empty, quiet corner, she felt Ronan touch her elbow. “Your trash seems to have found a way into the Riche-Sur-Mer tonight.” Ellie glanced back at the bar. Her ex-husband sat at the high countertop grasping his standard bourbon. A woman sat closely next to him, nestling her chin into his bicep. She was not his wife.

“Ronan, order me a gin gimlet, on the rocks,” Ellie instructed as she confidently walked over to her ex-husband. She eyed the woman of the hour. Blonde, of course. Late 20s, early 30s perhaps. She maneuvered herself into the seat directly next to her ex-husband and faced his profile. “Well hello, Wally,” she greeted him just as Ronan arrived at her side with her gimlet. It was not on the rocks as she had instructed but she was glad nonetheless to have it. “I see a leopard never changes its spots.” Ellie raised her gimlet in toast and took a long, smug, sip.

“Why hello, Ellie, what a pleasure to see you.” If Wally was surprised he did not show it. “I heard you have recently found a new way to dispose of your trash. I’m very excited to see that go into effect. Natalie, this is the mother of my son, Ellie.” He never introduced Ellie as his ‘ex-wife.’ He was a politician, after all. “Ellie, this is Natalie, my District Office Secretary.” Natalie tossed her long blonde hair over one shoulder and smiled a broad, crooked smile at Ellie.

She looks European, Ellie thought to herself as she was transfixed by the girl’s bad teeth. “And what is a secretary doing with her boss at a bar on a Friday night?” Ellie let the question linger in the air. “Strictly business I’m sure,” Ellie said sarcastically as she rose from the barstool. “Give Paris my best!” She shouted over her shoulder with a friendly wave.

Ronan cackled like a bat as he and Ellie found a booth that gave them an obstructed view of the Senator and his (new) mistress.

***

Not two weeks later Ellie was woken up in the early hours of the morning by Minnie. First annoyed, Ellie knew it must be an emergency. “Mrs. Worthington, it’s your ex-husband. I think you better put on the news,” she advised while handing her an Irish coffee for strength. Ellie fumbled for the television remote under boxes of cigarettes and nearly empty perfume bottles on her nightstand. She squinted at the buttons before hitting power and then carefully entering her favorite 24-hour news station. Which also happened to be consistently critical of her ex-husband and his ‘liberal agenda.’

“.... we are following a developing story,” the newscaster with orange skin welcomed her to the program. “Several boxes have been removed from Senator Worthington’s District Office in Newport, RI. This comes amid reports that the Senator was working closely with a Russian spy, known as Natalie. After she allegedly became his mistress, Natalie was able to infiltrate his circle and gain access to top-secret information and sensitive government plans.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Ellie said aloud. “I guess she was European.” Before she got too excited she knew that a balanced perspective was needed. Ellie quickly changed the channel to a news station that was often supportive of her ex’s husband’s ‘liberal agenda.’

“This is a travesty of the American political system and if he has any respect for his constituents he must resign immediately….”

Ellie sat back smugly grasping the sides of her warm coffee mug. I know trash when I see it.

***

Ellie practically danced down the stairs that morning. She walked into the kitchen humming, admiring the copper pots that hung from the ceiling with new appreciation. She lit a cigarette and was about to call Ronan when she heard a knock on the door. Ellie looked around for Minnie but she was nowhere in sight. She shrugged and picked up the phone. A second knock interrupted her as she was about to dial. I suppose this is my house, and I do know how to open doors, Ellie rationalized to herself as she walked to the door and pulled back the white curtain that covered the window glass. She was surprised to see Paris standing there on her doorstep, shuffling back and forth in white flat sneakers. Ellie opened the door and stared at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her hair had not been washed and was swept up into a messy top bun meant for middle-class teenagers.

The two wives stared at each other silently for a moment. “No one will talk to me,” Paris broke the silence with a quivering voice.

Ellie sighed and put her arm around the Senator’s wife. “Come in dear, I’ll teach you how to be an outcast.”