Soulmate

Noon

I weigh the two potatoes in my hand. "Which one?"

Talha laughs. "Both. We need two potatoes, yeah?"

"Right," I mutter, placing them in a plastic bag. "What else do we need?"

"Um . . . cashews, I think."

"I wonder what this will taste like," I muse. "I've never had macaroni and cheese with cashews."

"Oh, I'm cooking the vegan version," Talha assures me.

"Macaroni and cheese . . . but sans cheese."

"Anything vegan is sans anything animal related. Basically, no meat, no dairy, no eggs, no honey."

"Are you vegan?"

"No, but my mom is. So a lot of stuff I eat is vegan 'cause that's all I know how to cook."

"Wow, cooking. So advanced," I marvel in mock awe. It's true, I can't scramble an egg to save my life. Cuisine related things are my sister's specialty, especially because of her crazy modeling diets to maintain a trim figure. During bikini season, all the stuff I eat is healthy and disgusting and green, because my sister has to get real thin real fast.

"Oh, j'ai oublié," he mutters under his breath. "Nous avons besoin un oignon aussi."

This startles me. "You speak French?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?" He says, almost defensively.

"Nothing," I stammer, which is true, but it's a cover up for what I was really thinking. Talha has a warm, caramel skintone. He doesn't appear European, and he doesn't appear African. I'm almost sure he's Middle Eastern or Indian. I would not expect someone who is Middle Eastern or Indian to be fluent in French.

"I know what you're thinking," Talha interrupts my pondering. "That you don't find people my race speaking fluent French."

I fight the blush. "Well, it doesn't happen often. Et je ne te connais pas bien."

He stops in surprise, and then turns to look at me. "Tu parles français aussi?" You speak French too?

"Un peu," I admit. A little.

He holds out his fist like he's expecting me to fist bump it. As if.

"Look, I'm not going to be lame," I laugh. "Fists bumps don't happen in the fresh produce section of a grocery store."

"Says who? I wouldn't peg you for someone who would fall prey to society's expectations and standards," He teases.

"They're not society's standards, those are my standards," I tilt my head, teasing him right back. "Come, let's get l'oignon."

Talha carefully picks up and inspects several onions. A grin slowly spreads across his face as he turns toward me with three onions in hand.

"Watch," he says mischievously.

"What are you . . . ?" I mutter. It hits me. "Oh, god, Talha, no! We'll have to pay for all three of them!"

By the time I'm halfway through my first sentence, Talha has already started juggling the onions.

"Well," I say, a bit flustered that I thought he would drop the onions. "It's a good thing you know how to juggle well."

Talha catches them and places two onions back. "Hm," he says. Like he's a scientist and I'm the funny bit of data. The capital-O Outlier.

"What?"

"You don't trust me."

"What's with you and trust?" I grumble. "I'm starving, can you drop it and get in line for check out?"

"Sure," he says hollowly. Without any emotion. Just like all the other days I see him at work. It's like there are certain switches I flip to turn on his personality and others to flip to drain him of all thoughts and feelings.

I say nothing. I just watch him. We pay for the vegetables and then wait at the bus stop.

"Are you matched?" I ask Talha.

"No, I don't have time to go to a BodyScan. Waitlist is too long."

"But your mother works for that company!" I exclaim.

"I know," he grumbles. "Benefits aren't what they used to be."

"Do you want to find your soulmate?"

"Not really," he mutters uncomfortably. "At least, not after your rants."

I laugh. "Don't let me take the fun out of everything. I'm sure finding your Soulmate will be amazing. I bet you two will have the most romantic love story and probably have like, ten kids."

"Same for you," he remarks.

"Probably not," I say automatically, without thinking about my response.

He furrows his brow. "Why do you say that?"

Rule #4: Don't raise suspicions about yourself.

"I, uh . . ."

"Your Soulmate is guaranteed to be your perfect match," he says. "There's no need to be so insecure. Your love story will be perfect, like nature designed."

I gulp. "I guess so, huh?" I try for a nervous smile. Unsurprisingly, it comes naturally. "I don't know. I think I'm just kind of worried for my future in general."

"You don't have to," Talha says.

"No, you don't have to," I snorted. "You? You're born into a military family. Your mom is a businesswoman. You don't have to worry. Me? My parents are gone. They left me and my sister nothing. No legacy, no name, I don't even know if-"

I stop abruptly. I don't even know if they left me a Soulmate.

The bus arrives in the nick of time, saving me from having to explain. Talha looks at me weirdly as I board the bus without another word. He silently steps onto the bus after me.