Hobo Wednesday

Yes, I get to write a story about hobos. I’m sure you’re all very proud of me.
Grandma is up at 9 and I start the coffee. She asks for just a bite of cereal, and asks how I’m doing – and keeps on trying to tell me not to worry about the drunk. We’re sitting down and eating when Ilmars comes out. I tell him we need to talk, but he just shoots on by saying that he’s late for his appointment. He’s gruff and dismissive. Appointment with who, I ask? Joey.
Grandma asks where he’s going and I say I’m gonna follow him. I wait inside till he’s heading down the street and get in the car.
You get one guess where he went.
You’re right! It’s Danny’s!
Danny’s opens at 7am, and by the time I get there – about 10- there is a whole line of drunks getting their morning juice.
He’s not happy to see me. I say we need to talk, he asks me what about. Different day, same conversation. He’s dismissive, and says he wants me to go. In another small coup, I actually get to tell him what will make me leave: grandma gets daily care, and the Holly Hill house is rented. Unfortunately, he is dismissive. We chat about the Holly Hill house, with him defending his actions and trying to pin me on not taking care of stuff. He eventually calls the bartender over and tries to get me kicked out. The bartender is nice, and just tells me that family business shouldn’t be talked about here. I agree with him, and say that I’d be happy to do it somewhere else if I could. I head out into the sun.
When I first got down here, I picked up Dad’s old house keys. I pull them out again and look. You know what, I think I have the Holly Hill key. I bet it’s the one that didn’t fit any of the Bel Aire dr. locks.
I’m right.
As I’m turning onto Center Ave, there are a bunch of police at the 7-11 on the corner, and some kid face down in the grass. I pull into the house, and try the key.
I had this key last time I was here, I just didn’t put it together then.
I head in, and the place seems fairly clean and in good shape. It needs to be swept, and there is a little bit of work that needs to be done. Strangely, there’s a sleeping bag and a two liter of root beer under the counter in the kitchen, and a square foot of plaster has fallen off the bathroom ceiling.
I go over to the neighbors and check in. The first one is a nice old guy named Bill. He’s suspicious at first, but quickly warms up to me once he finds out who I am and what is going on. He says the place has been vacant for maybe two months, and that the neighbor across the street saw vagrants going into the house. Ah, so the sleeping bag belongs to the hobo. It all comes together. We chat a little about the neighborhood, I tell him that I want to get someone in to rent the place, and he’s happy to hear that. I thank him for his time and head off.
I decide to go tell the cop by the 7-11 about the hobo. Cpl. Pool tells me to change the locks and put up a no trespassing sign, and that has worked every time someone has had this problem in the ten years he’s been on the force around here. He’s a nice guy, and helpful. I thank him and he wishes me good luck.
I move the hobo bag out onto the porch and decide to check in with the other neighbor.
A young lady, maybe about my age, answers the door. Just her nose sticks out as I explain who I am and what’s going on. I ask if she could call me if he sees anything suspicious, and she goes for paper, opening the door. She’s not wearing a shirt, just a blue lacy bra. When she comes back, though, she’s wearing a baseball jersey over it. Ah well. We chat about the neighborhood, I give her my number, and I thank her for her time.
I head home.
Ilmars gets home at 11:42. This is the earliest he’s ever gotten back. He sits down, asks me to hand him a beer, and tries to have a conversation with grandma about the house on Richmond. He says he’ll go to the bank and find out how much is in the account.
He’s back and we start talking business. He’s reasonable. I think he realized that getting rid of me is worth letting me help out. It’s a good deal.
He agrees that he needs help with grandma, but says that Joy was rejected by her. He says we should get someone.
He agrees we should have someone in the Holly Hill place. I say I’m gonna go there in the afternoon. He agrees that we should rent it out, and he says that they were renting it for $700. Grandma says $500, and he says that $650 is fair if we get the right people. He says to get a security deposit plus 1st month’s rent before they move in.
Seems good.
We chat, and it’s good. Ilmars is downright cheery. He says he’s happy I’m here and he knows my heart is in the right place. Wow. He’s fun to hang out with and is joking.
At 1:45, he gets in a fight about his poetry with grandmother. He starts yelling at her, and she stays calm. I step in and tell him to let it drop. He calms down instantly. A few more minutes of chatting, and he retires to his room.