The Other Side of Goodness

For thus saith the Lord of hosts: Yet once, it is a little while, and I will shake the heavens, and the earth, and the sea, and the dry land.

“So, where do you know Miss Gabrielle from?” Paris said as soon as she and Andrew stepped back into their house. She’d pretty much given Andrew the silent treatment from the hospital to the door that led from their garage to their kitchen. It had been relatively easy to be silent since they’d gone to see their friend’s child and stayed only fifteen minutes after leaving Gabrielle. Paris detested going to hospitals to visit anyone. And it was even worse visiting children, because the parents usually sat looking sad and the children were too sick to interact with at all.

“Who said I know her from anywhere?” Andrew headed straight to the refrigerator, opened it, and looked inside.

“There’s nothing in there,” Paris said. “I don’t even know why you bother looking. I need to buy groceries, but you know how much I detest grocery shopping.”

“Yeah,” Andrew said. “I know. I asked you if you wanted to stop anywhere on our way home tonight.”

“I heard you. But in case you didn’t notice: I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Andrew went over to the drawer with the restaurant menus in it and opened it. He pulled out the stack. “So, what do you feel like eating tonight?”

“I don’t feel like eating anything. What I want is an answer to my question.”

“I gave you an answer.” Andrew let the menus he wasn’t interested in fall onto the counter. “How about Indian tonight?”

“How about you answer my question about Gabrielle?” Paris stomped over and snatched the menus he still held out of his hand. “I saw the way you two exchanged looks. It’s just like it was when she was living with me that time.”

“Oh, the two of you lived together at one time?” Andrew laughed a little. “Who knew? You two definitely don’t appear to be anything alike, not enough to live together.”

“And you would know that how?” Paris put her hand on her hip. “Because you certainly wouldn’t be able to determine what she’s like just from that brief how-de-do we just had.”

“How-de-do?” He tapped her on her nose. “You are so cute. Now, what do you have a taste for? Because you know it’s going to be another forty-five minutes to an hour before whatever we order arrives. The sooner I call it in—”

“I don’t care about any food right now!” She slammed the menus she held in her hand onto the counter. “I would like a straight answer from you. It’s obvious you and Gabrielle know each other. I’m just interested in knowing from where?”

Andrew picked up one of the menus he’d let fall to the counter. “You like Chinese food, so I’ll just order Chinese.”

“My goodness! Are you even listening to me? I’m telling you . . . this is just like it was when she stayed at my apartment that time. I don’t know why she has to always want whatever I have. It’s pitiful that her pathetic little life is so miserable that she has to find a way to drink from the same fountain I draw my water from.”

“Paris, why don’t you stop being so dramatic? You’re always making a garden out of a seed.” Andrew went over to the cordless phone and took it out of its base.

“And you are always so corny when you think you’re being clever. You stole that from the sermon our pastor preached the other Sunday when he was talking about making a garden out of a seed in his series on sowing and reaping. But I’m telling you, Andrew: I saw the way the two of you looked at each other.” Paris snatched the phone out of his hand. “And what was that slipup of your name she made and thought nobody caught? Yes, I most certainly caught it, Drew!”

“You’re tripping for real now.” He gently took the phone back from her. “If you don’t want anything to eat, then I’ll just order what I want.” He stopped a second. “On second thought, you know what? Since I’m going to get what I want, I think I’ll go get myself a real hamburger . . . and some onion rings.” He set the phone back in its base.

“Don’t you dare leave! We’re in the middle of an argument and we’re not finished yet.”

He walked over to her and softly kissed her on her nose. “Yes . . . we are. You’ve put me on the stand. You’ve cross-examined me. Now you need to rest your case, Counselor, and stop this nonsense before you end up saying something you’re likely to regret later.”

Paris stomped her foot down hard. “I hate you! Do you hear me? You make me sick!”

“Okay,” Andrew said. “I’ll pick you up something while I’m out.”

“I mean it, Andrew. If you leave now, then don’t bother coming back tonight.”

“French fries for you,” he said as he walked toward the door that led to the garage. “And no mayo and no onions on your burger. You hate onions. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Andrew! You come back here! Do you hear me! You’d better not leave!”

Andrew closed the door behind him. She heard his car when it cranked, the garage door as it went up and down when he left.

“Ugh!” Paris yelled. “I hate you!” She threw the menus at the kitchen door, found Gabrielle’s business card in her purse, tore it up, and threw it in the trash. She then marched up the stairs to her bedroom, flung herself onto the bed, and yelled again, “I really hate you! Sometimes!”