Argument
“Why is it always you?” Annie glared at her cousin.
“Why not me? Would you rather have it be some nefarious person who wants to steal your gold and silver, eat all your cookies, and run away with your mink coat?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a mink coat. I don’t have any gold and silver in this apartment, and there won’t be any cookies for him to eat because you’ll eat them all.”
Harrison grinned and picked up another cookie. “That’s because Beth can’t make cookies like you. Don’t you want to teach her how?”
“I tried.”
“But not for days and days.”
“Harrison,” Annie put a hand on her hip and looked at her cousin as though he was some little boy caught in mischief. “I spent a week with Beth. I tried to teach her to cook, to bake cookies, to do more than eat cereal, cook frozen pizzas in the microwave, and eat ice cream out of the carton. It didn’t do any good.”
“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough.” He reached for another cookie. “Or maybe she wasn’t desperate enough.”
“Or maybe she just doesn’t want to learn. Really, Harrison. If you want good cooking, maybe you should learn to do it yourself, or find somewhere else to live.”
“But Beth’s my sister.”
“I know. And you’re my cousin. And so is Beth. But I don’t have the money or patience to keep feeding you, Harrison! This is the third time this week you’ve appeared at my door, come in and started eating my food.”
Harrison reached into his pocket pulled out some money and slapped it down on the counter. “I’ll hire you.”
“Do do what?” Annie’s voice dripped with suspicion.
“Cook for us.”
“Cook for you?”
“Yes. Come on, Annie. It’s not like that part time job you have makes you a lot of money or takes up all your time. And if you are making food for yourself anyway, why not make a little extra for us?”
“A little extra? Do you know how much you eat? And what will Beth say to that idea?”
Harrison shrugged. “She won’t care if she doesn't have to cook.”
“I’m not washing your dishes.”
“We can do that. Beth may not like it, but she can at least wash them. That doesn’t require any concentration, and she can dream of the next picture she is going to paint.”
Annie shook her head. “Really, Harrison, isn’t she ever going to do something that earns some money? She’s been dabbling in painting for close to two years now. Has she ever sold anything?”
“Only to me and a few friends.” He shrugged. “She likes to paint, and I don’t mind. I make enough for both of us.”
“Yeah, but what happens to her if you lose your job?”
“I’ll get another one.”
“What if you die?” Annie had been longing to say some plain truths to this happy-go-lucky cousin of hers for months, and she suddenly felt like now was the time.
“I have a life insurance policy.”
Annie rolled her eyes. It was clearly going to take more work to open his eyes. She leaned on the other side of the island and looked him square in the eye. “And what if you get married and your wife doesn’t like a fee loader living with you?”
“She’s not a free-loader!”
“Oh?” Annie’s eyebrows rose. “Just what does she do? She doesn’t cook. She doesn’t clean the house. I know because I’ve been there and done it for you. She doesn’t wash the dishes. Does she do the laundry? Take care of the garden? Manage the bills and finances?” With each question she watched her cousin shake his head just a little. “Then what does she do? Tell me.”
He shrugged. “She’s . . . she’s a companion.”
“Ha!” Annie pushed back from the island and straightened. “Elizabeth Hand is no more a companion than I am a. . . . a . . . bank president! Does she read to you?”
“No. I sometimes read to her.”
“Uh huh. Does she converse at breakfast? Dinner?”
Harrison looked puzzled. “We just eat. Why should we talk?”
“Harrison, listen to me.”
“I am listening, Annie, but I don’t understand what you want me to listen to.”
“Just be quiet and listen!”
Harrison folded his arms on the counter and focused his whole attention on Annie.
“You just admitted that Beth does nothing to help with anything about the house, doesn’t do anything a companion would do, and doesn’t make any money to contribute to the expenses of the house. No,” she put in quickly, lifting her hand as her cousin was about to speak. “I’m not done. If you were to get married, she would either have to live with you, and your wife would have to put up with someone who didn’t do one bit of work around the house but only made more work. Or, what if someone wanted to marry Beth?”
“That would be great!”
“Would it?” Annie’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She couldn’t cook for her husband, clean his house, do his laundry, take care of the bills, mow the yard. or even be very companionable. How long do you think that marriage would last?”
“Well--”
“Do you think that you are helping her, Harrison? Helping her be a godly woman? A woman who looks well to the ways of her household? A woman who could love her husband, love her children, and be a keeper at home? And if she did get married, and her husband was an incredibly unselfish man who was willing to do all the work at home and his own work, and if they had children, do you think Beth would be able to take care of them? Has she ever babysat? Held a baby? And what about feeding them, cleaning up after them, doing their laundry, keeping the house clean so someone doesn’t call Child Protective Services on them? Could she do it?”
“Oh, she could.”
“Would she even know how?”
“I was going to pay you to teach her.”
“No you weren’t. You were going to pay me to cook for you. Yes, you were going to insist that she wash the dishes, though I have a feeling that you’d do them because she would be busy painting again, but that’s not the same as her learning.”
“But she’s my sister, and I’m supposed to love her.”
“Is it loving to let her remain a selfish, spoiled, self-seeking, ignorant person?”
“That’s not very nice, Annie.”
“Truth isn’t always nice, Harrison. I’ve watched and prayed that you would wake up and see what is going on and how Beth has manipulated you into letting her do whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and however she wants, but you just wouldn’t open your eyes. I will cook for you on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That you start acting like an older brother who cares more about his little sister’s spiritual well being than you do about making life a bed of thornless roses for her.”
“Ouch.”
Annie didn’t reply but stood and watched him.
For several minutes, Harrison sat and stared at the counter. His fingers pushed a few cookie crumbs around, and he frowned, sighed, frowned again, and finally looked up. “You’re right. I hate to admit it, but you are. And I’ll agree to it because I realize that you are right. Thank you for saying something.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I had to be so harsh.”
“It was necessary.” He stood up. “I’m hard headed.”
“You sure are.”
