by Victor Allen
**********
Heebie wheeled the lawnmower into a tactfully situated shed at a far corner of the cemetery. The summer perfume of cut grass and wild onions hung thick and damp and green. He scrubbed a grimy hand over his face. It came away wet. The September afternoons were still hot and apt to stay that way until late into October.
Still, he knew the sun was dying. Heebie didn’t need the calendar to sense the shift in color from white to gold, or the shadows lengthening as the days shortened. The September breeze didn’t have the chilly sting of the October wind which would arrive soon enough, but it was a close thing.
Heebie settled back in a chair that had been left by some good Samaritan and poured himself a cup of sweet tea -now lukewarm this late in the day- from a thermos. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. It would soon be time for him to amble up to the convenience store at the intersection where the one stop light in town blinked, get his two hot dogs for a dollar fifty-nine, then back to his little cottage for the night.
He hated to go home some nights. All of his friends were here. You could talk to them all day and they listened, never mocking him for being a little light in the brain department, never interrupting him, or snickering at him when he walked by. He took care of his friends and had no doubt they would be there for him if he ever needed them.
He got up and put the rest of his tools away. Taking one last look around to make sure everything was in its right place, he stepped out and padlocked the door. Heebie’s shadow stretched like taffy as he walked towards the gate. He stopped at a tombstone and spoke softly.
“Good night, Mrs. Smith-Costanza. Throw a Hail Mary for me tonight. I’ll be back in the morning to take care of you.”
Heebie was silent for a few moments. He cocked his head as if he had heard something incorrectly, and his face clouded.
“Thank you for tellin’ me that, Mrs. Smith,” he said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
He was taking care of his friends and they appreciated it.
Wasn’t that what friends were for?