Free Shadows Fall Away by Kit Forbes Page A

stormed off, calling her a few choice names in my head until it hit me.
    I was having dinner at her house tonight. Genie’s father had invited me this morning. And there was no way out of it because I had to get my own clothes and give these ones back.

Chapter Nine
     
    Mark
     
    I stared at the shining brass knob of the hand crank doorbell. What would I do if Genie Trambley opened the door? Would she slam it in my face? Why did I even care, beyond getting my stuff back? Oh well, no sense putting it off.
    I turned the knob and waited. I held my breath when I heard the door latch click inside but relaxed when the maid, Sarah, appeared on the other side.
    “Hello again, Mr. Stewart. Do come in. The doctor is waiting for you in the surgery. This way, please.”
    The exam was a pretty quick deal with a check of my heart, breathing, and eyes. And lots of questions about my memory. I B.S.’d my way through, was soon pronounced “fit of body,” and invited to clean up and change clothes before dinner.
    I soaked in a deep claw-footed tub till Sarah tapped timidly on the door to tell me my suit was in the guestroom and that I’d better get ready.
    I pulled the stopper and let the water drain out, trying to postpone the thing I’d been avoiding, well, avoiding more than running into Genie Trambley. Shaving. With a big sharp straight razor.
    I remembered what happened when Mom sucked Dad into using one of these so she could write about it. It hadn’t been pretty, but it was fortunate she was an ER nurse. I didn’t want to think about what sort of bribes Mom used to make Dad give it another go once the stitches came out, but it had definitely gone smoother with only a little nick—well, three. The third time, though. That had gone really well and Dad hadn’t shed any blood, except for his toe when the razor fell off the edge of the sink when he was drying his face.
    I picked up the razor. I could do this. I put the razor to my neck. And I froze when I realized I was missing of a pretty important component. The whole shaving soap, cup, and brush thing. This part I knew I could handle. I closed the razor so I wouldn’t gash my foot, then worked up a nice lather and swirled it on my cheeks and neck. And left the razor where it was.
    Maybe I’d just grow my beard in. Or not. I hadn’t exactly inherited all of Dad’s manly genes. The hair on my cheeks grew in splotchy and looked like hell if I let it go too long. And this soapy crud was starting to get itchy. I put the razor to my neck again then eased it back away because my hand shook.
    I wondered if I could go down and grab a shot of that brandy, but I didn’t want to get busted as a sneak and a drunk. I’d gotten accused enough of that back home. A lot of times when I hadn’t even done it. As much as I hated to admit it, my parents were right; my friends were mostly losers. They did stupid shit and made it look like I was at fault a lot more than I actually was.
    I was going to have a hard enough time keeping myself together, and getting hammered would only make it harder. Things I took for granted just didn’t exist anymore. Like Starbucks. And shower curtains. And cell phones. And the Net. I hoped I’d learn to survive back here in the dark ages and learn to keep my mouth under control. Hopefully, the weird food and air wouldn’t give me some disease that could only be cured by the antibiotics that hadn’t been invented yet.
    And I really hoped I wouldn’t kill myself shaving.
    I shook the tension out of my arm and shoulders, took a deep breath, and put the razor to my neck again.
    Here we go. Piece of cake.
    I pulled the razor back. Maybe I needed to start somewhere less lethal. Sideburns might be safe.
    I carefully positioned the razor against my cheek, checked the angle, took a deep breath, and gashed the hell out of myself.
    “Shit!”
    My brain didn’t quite register a little knock on the door until the door slid open and Genie Trambley peeked in.
    “My