She adjusted her dress before knocking on the door. As she awaited it to be opened she quickly groomed her reflection in the window next to the door. No loose strands of hair could be accepted, this was an important night, and she had to make the right impressions. The door swung open and her darling stood before her, relieved by his presence she let her shoulders relax. However at the appearance of his parents they shot back into an uncomfortably straight position. She smiled warmly and bowed her head politely. She took the moment that her hair shielded her from their gaze to take a steeling breath. They greeted her eagerly and motioned her through the door.
At the dinner table, as they all sipped on their drinks. She kept quiet and enjoyed the loving environment. Steve sat beside her, his hand holding hers encouragingly. Across from him sat his bother Mac and his mother Marie. His father held the head of the table. Though she was comfortable with her surroundings she never let her posture falter. There could be no poor impressions left. She didn’t want to seem shy so she nodded and smiled throughout their conversations, however she reserved herself to only speak when spoken to – she didn’t want to come off too strong.
As the conversations progressed, she found herself drifting away from the table. It was such a nice house, and such a close and welcoming family that she was getting lost in the joy that flavoured the air. Catching loll of her head she quickly snapped back into her perfected image, and reengaged in the table talk. However, what she heard had her struggling to keep her composure.
“In my opinion the only way to truly enjoy all the rich flavours of man, is to get a Caucasian steak, and grill it over an open flame, no more than salt in pepper needed to season it – that way the real flavours get a chance to sing.” Mac had said it as if it were nothing. Unable to decide the correct course of action she took a sip of her drink and slowly lowered the glass again – careful to keep her hand steady.
“I have to disagree, the only way to go is ribs; Latin American are the most flavourful,” Steve countered nonchalantly. She could feel her eyes bulging from their sockets. Quickly she excused herself form the table and went into the bathroom. Placing her hands on either side of the sink she stared herself down in the mirror. She had to gather her thoughts before going back in there. She liked this man, and she had to decide how much she was willing to overlook. “Everyone has different tastes,” she rationed. “I like escargot, I’m sure someone would be disturbed by that. I can’t just make judgements like this over the food someone eats. That’s unfair.” Resolute in her decision to work past this she replaced the strands of her hair, straightened out her dress and rejoined the family outside.
Luckily the conversations seemed to have found new topics, which was relieving for she wasn’t sure how effectively she would have been able to maintain the proper appearance. The discussions had found its way to commenting on Mac’s past relationships, something that was obviously a running joke within the family. She smiled playfully, and adjusted herself to appear perfectly content.
“At least my relationship with Ashley ended better that yours with James,” Mac shot at Steve. She nearly choked on the water she was sipping, before daintily dabbing at her mouth with the napkin. She wasn’t sure what this said about her, but she found this news far more disturbing than that of their choices in meat.
As she considering if this was perhaps the line that she couldn’t cross, a plate was placed before her. She looked down at the steak, lightly seasoned with salt and pepper. She paused with apprehension, and glanced back up at the smiling faces. Marie watched her hopefully, awaiting her guest’s judgement of her food. It would be rude if I rejected their home cooked meal, she thought, that would leave a horrible impression...
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