eddie

His name was Edward Wrobleusky and he drove a school bus for the middle school in Hampton Falls, Ohio, though he wanted to be a writer of serious fiction or precious poetry, one or the other, because, quite frankly, he couldn’t imagine the luck of succeeding at both. He lived alone on Bessie Street in a mostly empty apartment above his landlady Esther Wampole, whose place reeked of Vicks Vap-O-Rub and singed butter. His favorite possession was a 1959 Topps baseball card of Pittsburgh Pirates pitcher Harvey Haddix, who was as famous as the day was long, as Edward would say, without telling you why, because if you didn’t know, you probably didn’t deserve to know. Edward lived to be 68 years old, which he considered a bargain, seeing as how he didn’t really want to live much longer. On his deathbed, which wasn’t at all attended, because he had no siblings and fewer friends, he wrote this: “I bequeeth (sic), to all who come after, the happiness I never met. From here I go into the darkness. When you might think of me, light a candle in a grotto.” Bennie Grodlowe, the rookie cop who found the body when Missus Wampole called in the foul stench emanating from Edward’s apartment and who later would be shot to death by a 43-year-old meth addict, took one read of the note, shoved it into his pocket, and lit a candle for Edward every Friday for the rest of his life at St. Albert’s outdoor shrine, behind the school's softball field. He had no idea why. It just seemed like the right thing to do.