Page 48 of Pete and His Precious

“Just, Mrs. Higginbotham asked me to do the face painting too. And I’m picturing you working on one side of someone’s face while I’m working on the other.”

“Wow. So they’ll have one side that looks good, and one cheek that doesn’t,” I say, interested that she would be doing the face painting alongside me.

Lord, there you go again.

“Have you noticed that it seems like you and I have gotten thrown together in an awful lot, and seemingly in random ways?”

“Yes, I have noticed that, and I don’t believe in happenstance, or luck.” She sounds thoughtful.

“Me either,” I say as we reach the top of the stairs, and I pull my key out of my pocket.

I’m not sure what she’s saying, that she doesn’t believe in happenstance or luck, but I know where that leads me.

“It almost seems like the Lord leading us together, but I don’t know why.”

Maybe because He wants us to be together? That’s the question in my head, but I focus on getting my key in the lock, and opening the door.

I allow her to walk in first, and then I step in, closing the door behind me. I throw my keys on the counter where I always do, as Trixie says, “Pete and his precious! Pete and his precious!”

Zoe and I look at each other again. I think about what we were talking about. That neither one of us believe in coincidence, that both of us believe that the Lord is working.

“I’m not sure what He wants either, but it does seem to be coming at us from all sides,” I say, with not a little bit of irony. She smiles and laughs, and then goes to the drawers in the kitchen, digging for silverware.

I like that she’s at home in my house and doesn’t stand around waiting for me to do everything. I don’t mind. I like serving her, but I also like the fact that she isn’t the kind of person to sit around and expect it out of people.

I picture her as someone who will have to be forced to slow down after hospital stays or something like that, while other people care for them.

I kind of like that picture. That she’s spunky and strong-willed, but allows her will to be bent when the situation determines it, and in particular, in order to please me.

Not that I don’t do the same for her, and I feel like that’s probably a hallmark of a good relationship, where both people are trying to treat the other person the way they want to be treated.

“You want to eat in the living room?” I ask, mostly because I don’t like cats, but I don’t particularly want to have one sitting in front of me while I’m eating my food.

“So that my cat isn’t on top of your meal?” she asks, and I look guilty. She laughs.

I shrug, and I feel like we say a lot without saying much at all, and she doesn’t get mad at me.

That seems to be a recurring theme. Am I really bracing myself for someone to get mad at me all the time? What has happened that I’m conditioned to always think I’m going to get yelled at? Or have someone be angry?

We sit down in the living room, and she hands me silverware, while I hand her the water that I got from the sink.

She murmurs a thank you, and then sits down but does not open her food.

I think that means she’s waiting for me to pray, and so I say, “Should I pray?”

She nods and smiles, and I realize that everything that happens makes me feel like she’s perfect. Except, she wants her career to be a success, and she hasn’t talked anything about having a significant other any time in the future.

Can I talk about that?

We eat in silence for about five minutes before I get up enough nerve to say what’s really on my mind.

“So, I know that you’re working to get your social media, and possibly have a viral post, and to make enough money from your narration to support yourself. Possibly even getting some attention from Hollywood.”

“Yeah,” she says, putting another bite of food in her mouth, like there isn’t anything more to say about that.

“How do you feel about marriage? Or relationships?” I should have done that in reverse order, but it’s out now, andwhile her chewing slows down just a bit, it picks back up, and she tilts her head.

She swallows, and then says, “I guess I don’t want to get married if it’s going to end in divorce. I don’t see any point, you know?”

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