Page 38 of Reunited Soulmates
“Well, well, well. You do clean up rather nicely.”
Nathalie and I were standing just outside her parents’ home in a nice little suburban village. I looked at the neat rows of nearly uniform houses and tidily kept lawns and nearly shuddered. It looked like something straight out ofStepford Wives.
An obsessive-compulsive serial killer could fit very well in this neighborhood.
I held my arm out to her. “Shall we?”
She took a deep breath and took my arm. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Together, we walked into No. 14 Rain Tree Drive and I was immediately assailed by the fragrance of a lavish, homecooked meal.
“Ah! Our guest is here!”
Nathalie’s mother, a fifty-something year-old housewife grinned at us and kissed Nathalie before running her eyes over me from head to foot. I stared straight back at her without blinking.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening, looking extremely taken aback. “You must be Oliver. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Elizabeth, Nathalie’s mom.”
She extended her hand out to me but I just stared at it. She looked visibly confused for a moment. “Aren’t you going to shake my hand, young man?”
I cleared my throat and looked visibly uncomfortable. “I guess Nathalie hasn’t told you yet,” I sighed. “I’m not into handshakes. Hands are some of the dirtiest parts of the human body.”
She looked clearly affronted for a moment and looked at Nathalie, who just smiled softly at me like an idiot in love.
“Oliver is a doctor,” she explained to her mom. “He’s very particular about cleanliness.”
“Which is why,” I announced, “I brought my own utensils, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth turned to her daughter. “I…ah, we don’t mind at all.” When she turned to me, her smile was a little bit more uncertain. “You’ve probably met Greg, Nathalie’s father. He’s in the dining room, waiting for us.”
When she turned around and led the way to the dining room, I looked at Nathalie and winked at her. She looked like she was having trouble keeping a straight face on.
“Ah! Oliver!” Greg stood up the moment we walked into the dining room. “Please, have a seat.”
I peered at the table closely and sniffed it before inspecting the chair. Only then did I sit down.
When I did, I saw Greg and Elizabeth looking strangely at me as if they didn’t know what to make of what I was doing.
“I, ah, I’ll go get the roast chicken first,” Elizabeth muttered, briefly excusing herself.
“So, Oliver,” Greg started. “You’re a doctor, eh?”
I nodded. “A cardiologist to be precise.”
“What’s that? Like you specialize in the heart?”
“Precisely.”
“And you must make a lot of money with that, huh?”
I looked at him sternly. “Sir, that is a very inappropriate thing to ask me on the dining table.”
“Oh.” Greg looked visibly taken aback.
A heavy silence hung over us before Elizabeth sailed back into the dining room with a smile. In her hands was a perfectly roasted chicken on a platter, shining a nice golden brown color under the soft lighting of the dining room.
I turned toward Nathalie and briefly whispered in her ear while Greg and Elizabeth looked on.
“Oliver was once attacked by a chicken as a boy,” she explained to her parents. “He’s not particularly fond of them, even as food. Mom, maybe you could keep that chicken far from him, please.”