Leroy Adkins is an underperformer. He barely graduated. He barely got a job, and he hardly socializes in his day-to-day life.
Zachary Turner has been sick for as long as he can remember, and as he grows older the crushing realization that he never...
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To Zachary, it didn't seem like much time had passed between him taking off his shoes and being swarmed by two women he assumed to be Leroy's sister and mum. One minute he was asking where he should put his bag, and the next minute two women appeared out of thin air and asked him who he was, and how he met Leroy.
"What's your name?" the younger woman said, smiling at him. She was standing close, with her hands folded across her chest, as she eyed him with interest. This was probably Leroy's sister. Zach was taken aback by how similar they looked. The same brown hair and dark thick eyebrows, even though hers were a little more groomed.
"Err... Zach..." he managed, staring at her before doing a quick sweep with his eyes to look for Leroy, who seemed to have disappeared from his sight as quickly as the women appeared.
"You're quite tall, aye?" the woman said, still smiling at Zach. "My name's Emilia, by the way. I'm telling you now because I'm sure my brother will avoid introducing us."
"What's his name?" the older woman said, going in on the conversation as she stopped in front of them.
"Zach," Emilia said before Zachary could repeat himself to the older woman.
The older woman smiled a bit, and Zach noticed the wrinkling on the side of her eyes when she did so. She looked like Leroy, but not enough to call it a spitting image. Although her hair was graying, Zach could tell its original color was some sort of blonde. Her eyes were ice blue, and he could see a couple of age spots just under her eyelids that could easily be mistaken for freckles.
"I'm cooking some chicken for dinner today. I hope that's okay with you. Any allergies?" the older woman asked, and Zachary stared at her, wondering what he should say to that.
"Err, I do... but the chicken's fine, as long as it doesn't have any butter. I can't really say for dressing, it depends on the ingredients, but I'm okay just eating chicken and veggies... with as little oil as possible... if that's okay?" The older woman was starting to give Zachary that look he knew too well—when someone was confused and wondering if he was being serious.
"Err... sure..." the woman trailed, looking over at Leroy's sister, who seemed just as puzzled by his answer.
"I—"
"He has some medical issues. If he can't eat what you make, we'll just grab Vietnamese if that's okay."
Zach felt the panic that was boiling inside him wash away at the sound of Leroy's voice. He turned in its direction to find Leroy standing at the door that led to the hallway.
"Oh, okay, you should have told me that earlier," Leroy's mother said, turning to look at her son. "I would have tried to be considerate."
"I forgot, I'm sorry," Leroy said, looking from his mother to Zach. "We'll figure something out, we always do," he said, and Zach's face began to warm up, remembering the times they would order out or Leroy would grab something from his way from work and they would have to 'unbuild' the food. Leroy once commented that subway sandwich artists would probably brand Zach as public enemy number one if they say how he took apart a sandwich to make it edible for himself.
