Sam knelt at the tombstone’s level and passed a wrinkled, earth-stained hand over the grey marble. The name engraved there glistening in the morning light. But, even though the burial had taken place several days prior, there were no flowers, or potted plants, or even a plaque in memory of the deceased.

After looking at the tombstone, Sam took a drag on his pipe and blew a bit of grey smoke towards the sky. “I bid you welcome, sir,” he said, smiling, then he left at a tranquil pace, using his rake as a cane.

The following day, there was a woman in front of the grave. Sam had never seen her before, so he came a bit closer, keeping a certain distance so as not to disturb the mourner. She was shorter than most people, but, on the contrary, she was not as skinny as the youth of the time. Her shoulders were squared, and she held herself upright, like the military men and women of yesteryear. Nevertheless, she kept her head lowered and she stared at the grave without really seeing it. She stayed several minutes, then fell silent, crouched, and awkwardly brushed the grey marble with the tips of her fingers. When she was done, she stood up quickly and left.

A week later, while Sam was lighting his pipe, he saw the woman again. That time, he did not resist his curiosity, so he got up from the bench and walked towards the woman. When he got to her, he found that the young woman had an expression that was quite common in a cemetery: a mixture of anger and frustration.

“You’re a bastard, Patrick. A flaming, Olympic bastard. I don’t give a hoot about your money and your stuff, goddammit!” the woman almost yelled. “You had no business leaving me everything like that. I know you didn’t get along with your brother, but you could have made an effort, at least in your will. My God, I didn’t even know you had a will!”

After speaking, the woman gathered her breath and rubbed her head. “And you, what do you want?” she asked, turning to look at Sam.

“Pardon me, I didn’t think you’d seen me. I’m the caretaker, Sam,” Sam responded.

Before speaking, the mourner lifted her russet eyes towards the elderly man. “The caretaker?” she asked.

“Yes,” Sam responded.

“I didn’t even know there was a caretaker,” the woman said.

Instead of responding, Sam shrugged and brought his pipe to his mouth. He had heard that a lot.

“Sorry for yelling like that,” the woman added with a note of embarrassment.

“I’ve seen much worse in my life, ma’am,” Sam said, smiling patiently. “A widow once came with a set of bongo drums, and she beat them until the police arrived.”

The woman frowned. “You called the police?”

“I’m here to ensure the peace and quiet of the cemetery,” Sam responded. “They just confiscated the drums until she calmed down, obviously.”

“I’ll think about it,” the woman said, and Sam wondered if she was joking. She then smiled and held out a hand, which Sam shook. “Ruth Sithole,” she said.

“A pleasure,” Sam said, smiling. “Mr Nongoyi was a friend?”

“Among other things, yes,” Ruth responded, and Sam’s small smile seemed to irritate her. “I mean, we worked together, occasionally, but we weren’t …”

“A couple, yes, I understand,” Sam said, finishing Ruth’s statement before she could.

Ruth nodded in response and turned to the grave. “He was insufferable,” she added in a smaller voice. Then she sighed softly, suddenly overwhelmed by grief. While looking at her, Sam wedged his pipe between his teeth, and put a hand on her shoulder. “But he was my best friend, and that will be forever,” Ruth continued.

“I’m really sorry, Ruth. You know …” Sam said, turning his gaze to the tombs around them. “Some people think that if you keep on meeting people who suffer, you wind up becoming insensitive to other people’s pain. Well, they’re wrong. Every story is different.”

While Ruth was listening to Sam, she tensed slightly, and Sam took away his hand. She then gazed at the gold-lettered name on the tomb, and Sam smoked distractedly while staring at the heavens.

“Thank you for your solicitude,” Ruth said at last with an edge of irony. She then left quickly, and Sam watched her go while blowing a bit of smoke. Sometimes, it seemed, he tried a little too hard.

***

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