Roman nodded. “Just send me the links and I’ll have them delivered. I think we should go grocery shopping tomorrow, too.”
“Yes, I agree. Good plan, sir.”
Ezra cleared his plate, rinsed it in the sink, and then loaded it into the dishwasher. “I’ll leave this with you for tonight.” He handed Roman his tablet. “I’ll need your input by Monday morning in order to keep to the schedule.”
Roman nodded, still a little stunned by Ezra’s command and professionalism when it came to his duties. Ezra then disappeared into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Roman missed him almost immediately and glanced down at the tablet he’d left behind, marveling again at his housekeeper’s competence. And his care.
4
The Bleu Cheese Incident
When Ezra compared his current living arrangement to his previous one in the dorms, he found his situation much improved. His dormitory had been, for the most part, loud and smelly with a communal shower and kitchen, both of which were sometimes too filthy to use. There were also a lot of people coming and going and making noise at all hours, day and night. Ezra had tried rooming with a stranger his first semester but that only lasted a few weeks before his roommate’s habits became intolerable—too loud, too messy, and way too distracting. Ezra had spent some of his savings to transfer to a single, which had improved his immediate surroundings, even though some of the other problems remained.
In contrast, Roman’s house was mostly quiet. Ezra had his own bathroom where the hot water never ran out and a spacious bedroom that fit all of his belongings without feeling crowded. As an employer, Roman was generous in providing Ezra with a more-than-fair wage and in ensuring he had all of the supplies necessary to do his work. He’d procured the foods Ezra liked and cooked as well as, if not better, than his mother. Why, just that morning he’d had plain buttermilk pancakes and bacon that was uniformly crisp.
Ezra had made progress in his housekeeping duties as well. The clutter in the living room was now categorized and stored away, and all of the surfaces were clean and polished. Ezra had given the same treatment to the kitchen, ensuring everything in the cupboards and pantry was organized and in its proper place. His next project was a deep clean in each of the bathrooms in order to rid the tile surfaces of soap residue and mineral buildup.
Things were going so well, in fact, that Ezra was wholly unprepared for what would henceforth be known as the Bleu Cheese Incident.
It was an ordinary Tuesday. Ezra had just returned from his software engineering class and was settling in to do his homework when he went into the kitchen for a snack. Roman was working on his laptop in the living room, but since Ezra wore his noise-cancelling headphones for concentration, he did not hear nor take notice of him.
Ezra went to the refrigerator with the intent of getting two slices of American cheese for a grilled cheese sandwich, but when he opened the cheese drawer, he was assaulted by a smell so putrid, so foul, so vile and loathsome—basically, all of the worst words for a substance that should never have been considered food—rotten, rancid, and downright disgusting.
Ezra recoiled, slamming the drawer and then the refrigerator door shut. He backed away but the smell persisted, short-circuiting his brain. It was worse than the funk of dirt that accumulated underneath toenails, worse than the odors of stinky armpits and sweaty scrotum combined. Worse even than the smell of excrement because at least there was a biological reason for it. Pooping was the body’s way of eliminating waste, and poop was not kept in the refrigerator with food or served on a dish. But this... the smell of the bleu cheese had crawled up Ezra’s nostrils and invaded his brain stem like a bloodsucking parasite. He could not only taste it in his mouth but hear it in his ears, loud and cacophonic, like people screaming while banging cymbals without any rhythm.
Trying to escape it, Ezra fled to his room and shut the bedroom door but even there, the smell followed him. He groped on his desk for the nose plugs he used while cleaning and shoved them over his nostrils, but it was too late. He was already infected. He turned on his shower and inhaled the steam through his mouth in order to cleanse his olfactory system, but it only ended up making the stench damp and moist, a swampy fart of rotten, moldy cheese.
Ezra threw himself onto the bed and put the pillow over his head, stuffed his face into the sheets and tried to breathe in the scent of laundry detergent but to no avail. The smell was too terrible and all-encompassing. There was no way he could remain here in this house. And though he liked Roman and was really making excellent progress in his work, the assault on his senses was too much.
Over the din of his emotions, there was a loud rap on his door. He lifted his pillow and removed the headphones from his ears.
“Ezra?” Roman called. “Ezra, are you all right?”
No, he was not all right. He’d been traumatized by Roman’s stinky bleu cheese. Where had the offender even come from? It hadn’t been in the refrigerator yesterday, and it certainly hadn’t been in the grocery cart when they’d gone shopping—Ezra would have noticed. The cheese itself hadn’t even been properly stored but wrapped loosely in butcher paper. The smell would have permeated everything else in the refrigerator by now, which proved a further complication. His food was no longer edible. Ezra was thinking about where he might stay the night when Roman called for him again, this time with urgency.
Ezra opened the door to find Roman lookingveryconcerned. But his stern brow softened upon seeing Ezra in distress. “Ezra, why are you crying?”
Ezra wiped at his face. When something like bleu cheese happened, he simply couldn’t hold it all in. Ezra swallowed and tried to collect himself, but the smell was now creeping into his bedroom. What if it got onto his clothing? He’d have to throw everything out.
“I don’t like surprises,” he said, sniffling, “and Ireallydon’t like bleu cheese.”
Ezra’s tears started anew, because he’d thought this arrangement beneficial for the both of them. Roman needed a housekeeper and Ezra was arguably the best. “I don’t think this is going to work,” he said miserably. He was about to shut the door when Roman stepped into his bedroom and closed it behind him.
“Can we talk about what happened?”
Ezra sighed. He didn’t want to talk or even think about it, but he owed the man an explanation. Roman obviously didn’t do it on purpose.
“Is there a place where we can have a Serious Talk?” Ezra asked. “Preferably a small table with chairs?” Ezra glanced back at the closed door, fearing the stench that lay behind it. “I don’t think I can go back out there right now.”
Roman, who was quite a large man, sat down on the floor of his bedroom and motioned for Ezra to join him on the rectangular woven rug. Ezra liked the rug because it felt like a quadrilateral island in the sea of hardwood floor, and he liked the geometric pattern that allowed him to count the diamonds—72 in all—which was one of his favorite calming techniques. Ezra collapsed a few feet away from Roman, too exhausted to continue. He just wanted the awful smell to go away.
“Is this about the bleu cheese I brought home?” Roman asked. Ezra nodded with abject misery. “I’m happy to get rid of it.”
“No,” Ezra said, which sounded more like “doe” on account of his nose plugs. “You’re a man who likes to eat strange and disgusting things, and this is your home. It’s unrealistic of me to expect you to give up your moldy cheeses.” The thought that disheartened Ezra the most, knowing Roman’s love of food, was that this was the first attack but likely not the last.
“How about we brainstorm some solutions?”
“I can still smell it,” Ezra moaned. It was hard to think with that odor in his brain. He took a few calming breaths through his mouth then glanced up at Roman pitifully and nodded.
