Free Mind Over Psyche by Karina L. Fabian Page B

not. I’m her pa. Besides, we both know I’m right. Now go to it, boy.”
    So Joshua had shaved him, and nearly dropped the blade the first time he nicked the old man’s skin. “I’msorryI’msorrryI’msorry,” he whispered as he brought a clean towel up to his grandfather’s chin. He was so sure his mother would come in, see what he’d done, and take the razor away, never mind what her pa wanted, but his grandfather just pressed the back of one hand against the nick and said calmly, “Ain’t nothing I haven’t done. You’re doing fine. Just trust yourself.”
    Afterward, he’d looked himself over in the mirror Joshua held up for him, his too-thin and trembling hands running over each cheek. “Not bad, boy. I’m going to expect you to do this for me every couple of days or so, but that blade’s yours now. You’ve earned it. You take care of it like I taught you and you use it. Remember what I told you. Trust yourself and don’t be afraid of t he nicks.”
    He’d died not long after that, and the razor went on a shelf in Josh’s room beside a photo of him and his grandfather. The day Joshua decided he was ready to shave, he’d pulled it down, cleaned it up and used it like he’d promised. For a few minutes, it was like his grandfather stood beside him, instructing him on how to angle it, telling him that was how a man shaved. He’d gone downstairs feeling like a man, despite the many band-aids plastered on his face.
    His parents had exchanged quick looks, and his mother shrunk behind the book she wa s reading.
    â€œWith all due respect to your grandfather, there are less painful ways,” his father remarked blandly while his mother suppressed her snickers.
    He’d eventually gotten a “sissy high-technology” Shaver, but he kept in practice with his grandfather’s old one. It was useful (and kind of impressive) on camping trips, and good for whenever he just wanted to feel close to his gr andfather.
    He stood by his grandfather’s gravesite in Oklahoma, his car, packed to the gills, on the gravel road not too far off. He’d made the side trip on the way to Rhode Island from Colorado, and he brought the blade just to show his grandpa that he still had it. He’d played with it while he talked, feeling the weight, the smoothness of the wooden handle. He’d pulled it open, and ran his finger along the flat of the blade. He tested its sharpness. All the time he talked about his new adventure, his horrible last year, how he wished he’d been around t o talk to.
    The memory vanished. He blinked at the sudden brightness of the room. “Whoa,” he whispered.
    Deryl and Tasmae were looking at each other, conversing, he supposed. Everyone else had left. He took the opportunity to breathe in and out slowly, letting the emotions of the memories flow over and away. So much for surface im pressions.
    Tasmae stood. “I’ll see about the razor. It seems simple enough to fashion. The baths should not be busy for another couple of hours.”
    After she left, they picked at their food in silence. Finally, Joshua ventured, “I haven’t remembered him that vividly in a l ong time.”
    â€œYeah, sorry. I was kind of…helping. But I didn’t direct your memory. I mean, you remembered what you wanted to—and I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. You’ve got strong memories. I sort of got caught in the current.”
    â€œYeah, well…Thanks.” Joshua shifted position, then stabbed at his food lightly. “You know, I’d forgotten how much I worsh iped him.”
    Deryl toyed with his food. “You’re lucky. He was cool. My grandfather—the one I know of, mother and Aunt Kate’s father—he barely acknowledged I existed. The first time I met him was at my mother’s funeral, and he told Aunt Kate to send me away. Said I was an