Rust On the Razor by Mark Richard Zubro Read Free Book Online

dishwasher.
    â€œWhat time is it?” I asked.
    â€œWe slept about four hours. It’s a little after one.”
    â€œHow come some of this stuff is totally modern and a bunch of it looks left over from before the Civil War?”
    â€œDaddy likes to keep the old stuff. Mama lets him pretty much, but she insists on having anything new that makes her work easier.”
    Footsteps sounded outside the back door. It swung open a few moments later. A man who could have been Scott’s twin, except for being maybe five or six years younger, raised blue eyes at us.
    â€œHello, Scott,” he said. He took off work boots, opened a door that showed a washing machine inside, stuck the boots on a mat, and shut the door.
    Scott introduced us. This was Nathan. We shook hands.
    â€œAny news on Daddy?” Nathan asked.
    â€œI called a few minutes ago. Still not good, but he’s no worse.”
    Nathan nodded. “Y’all staying here?”
    â€œYeah,” Scott said.
    Nathan nodded again. “Mama know that?”
    â€œYes.”
    Nathan nodded. If nodding noncommittally were a virtue, Nathan would be a saint. You hate to make comments about in-laws, but maybe he didn’t have a whole lot of
other responses to the world. At least he didn’t scream, “Get out, get out, you faggots!”—always a plus.
    Nathan said, “Wanted to get some chores done today before I went in. Probably drive to the hospital this afternoon.”
    â€œYou can come with us,” Scott offered.
    â€œBetter take my own truck. Don’t know what’ll happen and who’ll want to stay.”
    He declined lunch and left the room. Minutes later I heard water running. “I could use a shower too,” I said. After we ate, I climbed into the most ultramodern shower I’d ever enjoyed. From the outside this might be an old farmhouse, but inside, a lot of it was as up-to-date and well-appointed as any place I’d been in.
    Â 
    We returned to the hospital an hour later. Six Carpenters and I listened to the doctor murmur uncertainties and theories. No one had said a word about my being there, and most often my presence was ignored. I said nothing during the discussions and did my best fade-into-the-background act.
    Scott and Shannon agreed to keep watch first while Hiram, Nathan, and Mary took Mrs. Carpenter home to get some real sleep. Mary would return later.
    I found a comfortable place on a couch in the waiting room and finished the D’Amato book. If it hadn’t been so good, I’d have gotten more of a nap.
    I woke at seven and called into the CCU. No change in Mr. Carpenter’s condition. Hiram showed up and replaced Shannon. Mary came down the hall. She had the same freckles Scott did along the bridge of her nose. She wore a minimum of makeup and wore her hair straight to the sides with a slight twist on the ends.
    After she checked on her dad, she asked, “Why don’t we get dinner?”

    â€œSomeplace besides the Waffle House,” I said.
    She laughed. “I’ll take you to Della’s Bar-b-que. Best place in town. I had a long nap at Mama’s, and I could use a walk. I’ll show you the town.”
    It was three short blocks to the courthouse square. On the way I explained what Clara Thorton had done at the Waffle House and asked what her story was.
    â€œOld Clara’s a dear. Her husband was county commissioner for ages way back when.”
    â€œScott said he was the pharmacist.”
    â€œHe did that part-time. The rest of the time he ran the county.”
    â€œYou mean there’s a county commission like the one in Cobb County that was in the news for all that homophobic crap?” Not long before, Cobb County had passed an anti-gay ordinance. One commissioner’s daughter had come out of the closet and opposed her father. Hadn’t seemed to change his mind. I can’t imagine a parent being in favor of denying their own