The Tattered Thread

by B. A. Braxton

  **********

  When Elaine went into the reception area, Katerina Waltke was at her desk but she was standing. Her exasperation was justified even though Elaine didn’t know it yet. Why everyone was getting all worked up over a little mess was hard to understand. After all, one of life’s first rules was that accidents happen.

  “Go right in, Elaine,” Katerina said, stepping out from behind her desk and watching as Elaine went inside the office.

  Talk about sad-looking faces! Carl’s longtime associate, Marlon McGhee, was there; he was sitting behind the boss’s desk with loosely bound books of construction plans in front of him. Marlon had a ballpoint pen in his hand and was ready to write something down, but he didn’t seem to know where to begin.

  Nicolette Howard was sitting in one of two black swivel chairs. She was an African-American woman who was as tenacious as she was brilliant, and she always dressed in stylishly conservative business clothes. Her curly hair was left short and her nails, professionally cared for. Whenever she spoke, you could tell that she was an Ivy league alumnus, a Yaley to be exact. Proving her business savvy and boardroom prowess seemed to be all that she lived for, since she had no husband or family of her own.

  The third person in the room, Alexander Gordetsky, was leaning against the designing table next to the bar. Of the three associates, Alex was the least experienced to run things, but he learned fast and had lots of potential. Too bad he never saw fit to develop that talent; he was happy to roll along, getting away with doing just enough. Five pieces of red thread tied around his fingers meant that he must’ve been bungling things up big time.

  “I was told to come in and clean something up in here,” Elaine finally said.

  “It’s right over there,” Nicolette said, pointing, “on the floor behind the bar.” She swiveled back and forth in the chair like a windup toy stuck in its first revolution. It was just as well; aspiring women never seemed to stay stuck for long.

  As Elaine made her way over to the bar, all the suspense was starting to agitate her stomach. Blood was starting to roll out on the floor from the edge of the bar, like a growing scarlet doodle against the interlinked diamond design of white. It actually enhanced the beauty of the cherry wood against the southern pine floor.

  “What is it?” Elaine asked, preferring to be cautious. Nicolette simply sat staring at her, the fingers of one of her hands braced against the fingers of the other. Her gaze fell on Alex Gordetsky, who was still beside the designing table and looking quite disheveled and exhausted. On closer examination, traces of blood could be seen on the light blue cuffs of his dress shirt.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” Marlon said. “It’s only a dead animal.”

  “What is it?” Elaine insisted on knowing before taking another step.

  “A rabbit,” Marlon said.

  All bloody and lying on its back, the rabbit had a half-dozen Kast Varnish pencils sticking out of it. The fur on its head was slicked back with blood, as was the fur on one of its front paws, both of its sides, and several spots on its belly where the pencils protruded. Having been tossed onto an artful, looped-pile area rug, the standing loops soaked up the greater portion of the rabbit’s blood like a sponge.

  “What happened to it?” Elaine asked.

  “It fell on a some pencils, my dear,” Marlon said with that nasal and thoroughly irritating New England brogue of his. He was avoiding her question with a snide remark, and she really wasn’t in the mood for that.

  “I’m not touching that thing,” she said. “Leastwise, not with my bare hands. I’ve got to glove up first.”

  “Then do it!” Marlon said. “And then get it out of here!”

  Elaine paused to look at Nicolette again, her being the only other woman, and hopefully an ally, in the room. Sadly, Nicolette was staring back at her with a frigid ambition which seemed to have turned her pretty, brown face from flesh to stone. Her incessant swiveling told the story; she’d rather keep the secrets of her comrades than to suggest an ounce of weakness by showing compassion for the animal on the floor.

  Leaving the room without looking back, Elaine retrieved a couple of gloves from the cleaning supply closet in the kitchen. After grabbing an old newspaper, a mop, and a pail, she put a fresh plastic bag in her mobile garbage can. Chloe came over and asked what she was doing.

  “They killed a rabbit and now they want me to get rid of it.”

  “A rabbit?”

  Yes,” Elaine said. “They’d probably kill us if they thought they could get away with it.”

  “Come on, Elaine. Perhaps the rabbit died of natural causes.”

  “It was lanced with six pencils! Does that sound natural to you?”

  Chloe shook her head. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  They went into the office and found that everyone else had left the room. The associates were probably outside, hunting down chipmunks and squirrels, anything for their next collaborative kill. “It’s over there,” Elaine said, pointing. “Behind the bar.”

  Chloe peered over the bar and then looked away. “Man, oh man! Why on earth would anyone do something like that?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I missed the meeting. Obviously Mr. Gordetsky was trying to purify himself from all of his sins. After all, that’s what animal sacrifices are all about, right?”

  “Come on,” Chloe said, “let’s get this over with. Hand me that newspaper, will you?”

  Elaine brought the newspaper over and then had the dubious task of picking the rabbit up and putting it on top. Once the rabbit had been pushed onto the newspaper, Chloe wrapped it up and then tossed it into the empty garbage bag.

  Pulling the bag closed and twisting it shut after discarding her gloves, Elaine asked, “Where should I bury it?”

  “Out in the backyard, way behind the stables and past the stand of pine trees. Go and find Sam. He’ll show you where to bury it.” She glanced down at the blood at her feet. “I’ll mop this up and toss the rug while you do that.”

  Elaine left the office and went through the reception area. Ms. Howard, Mr. Gordetsky, and Mr. McGhee were standing by the outside door as if the meeting they’d been having wasn’t over yet. They all watched as she came out. “Did you clean it up yet?” Marlon asked. “The blood, I mean.”

  “Chloe’s doing that now. She’ll be done shortly.” Marlon was looking impatient as usual, as if angry at having been held up by the slow-moving, hired help. He never stopped to realize that others probably regarded him in the same manner.

  After carrying the rabbit over to the stables, Elaine stuck her head through the open door and called, “Hello?” When no one answered right away, she put her hand against the wooden door and opened it wider. The smell of fresh hay and manure brought back memories of summer visits to her uncle’s farm in southeastern Minnesota when she was a kid. “Sam, are you in here?”

  As Sam stuck his head out from the loft as he knelt beside the edge, several pieces of hay drifted down from high above. “I’m up here,” he said, peering down at her as if she’d interrupted something important. “What is it?”

  “There’s a dead animal in this bag. Chloe wanted me to ask you where I should bury it.”

  “Just leave it by the door. I’ll bury it.”

  “Would you? Thanks a lot.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, brushing hay off his overalls. He was an older man, perhaps in his early forties. Short in stature, he’d made a living as a jockey in his younger days, and a rather lucrative one at that. A number of fine horses had crossed the finish line first under his artful direction. Like Zach Cutteridge, Sam enjoyed a celebrity status, and even Carl left the man alone to do his work with the horses.

  Elaine put the bag down beside the door and then turned to walk away. She stopped when she saw Tasia McAvoy’s head pop up past the loft floor.

  “Hey,” Tasia said, brushing hay out of her hair. Some of the hay drifted down from above and Elaine watched as it settled onto the dirt floor. Seeing Tasia up there
was like watching an apparition. The last place anyone expected to find her was out in the barn with a man she’d never shown any fondness for. Even the horse Absolute Integrity seemed stunned, whinnying and stomping one of his hooves as if offended.

  “See you later,” Elaine told her, trying to walk away as fast as she could. Running away would’ve been too obvious.

  “Hey, wait,” Tasia said, forcing Elaine to come back to the door. “You said there was a dead animal in that bag. What animal?”

  “A rabbit.”

  “A rabbit? There aren’t any rabbits in the house. Silas certainly isn’t allowed to have furry pets, not with his asthma.”

  “He doesn’t have to worry about this one being in the house because it’s dead.”

  Tasia stood up, dusting hay off her clothes as she stepped over to the ladder. Wearing her favorite pair of battered blue jeans, her blouse was so tight, every curve of her body could be read like braille. Everyone was aware of how distraught she was over Zach’s having left her. But, just like elastic, she was springing back from that ordeal in a hell of a hurry. The horseman and the boss’s favorite pastime were obviously getting to know one another better than they should’ve been.

  As she descended the ladder, Tasia said, “How did it die?”

  “Six pencils.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she said, reaching the dirt floor and staring at Elaine inquisitively.

  “Some fool stabbed it with pencils.”

  “Pencils?” Tasia said, her voice high enough to hurt Elaine’s ears. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! That’s a sick thing even for the people around here to do. Who did it?”

  “I’m not sure, but Mr. Gordetsky had blood on his shirt.”

  “Let me see it,” Tasia said, going over and standing next to the bag.

  “I don’t want to see it again, but feel free to take a look,” Elaine said, watching as Sam came down from the loft. He stood between the stallions Napoleon and Theodore and took turns scratching them both on the neck.

  Tasia got on her knees and opened up the bag, peeling the newspaper back cautiously. “Oh, my God!” she said, closing it and then standing up again. “I can’t believe Alex would do something like that.”

  Sam came over and took a peek. “Man,” he said.

  “That crazy ass Carl did that, I bet,” Tasia said, but Sam took a step back and shook his head.

  “I don’t think so, honey,” he said. Hearing yet another man refer to Tasia in such a familiar way bothered Elaine, although she tried not to show it. Toying with the affections of more than one man at a time could be a very dangerous pastime, but Tasia didn’t even seem to care.

  “I’ll bet everything I’ve got that Carl killed it,” Tasia said, putting her hands on her hips. “He’s a crazy son of a bitch, Sam. Or is your face shoved so far up his ass that you haven’t been able to notice?”

  “Look who’s talking,” he said. “Besides, Carl’s a good man. He takes care of us, doesn’t he?”

  “You look mighty peculiar taking sides after all these years,” Tasia told him. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “I’m not taking anybody’s side,” he said as he walked over to one of the horses, which had started prancing around, and patted him on the nose. “All I’m saying is, Carl seems to be doing all right by you.”

  “Yeah, sure. So long as I sit up and beg like a good pet should.”

  “If you don’t like the way he treats you, why don’t you leave?”

  “As a matter-of-fact, I am looking for another job, Sammy,” she said, walking over to a stall and then resting back against one of its walls. Folding her arms against that healthy chest of hers, she didn’t realize that she’d just covered the best view a man ever had. “That’s right, I’m getting out of this pig sty. The sooner, the better. You boys are gonna miss me when I’m gone, aren’t you?”

  Sam snickered as he stood close to her. It was easy for him to look her in the eye since they both stood at about five-foot six. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said with great confidence. “You remember what happened the last time you got such a foolish notion.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, turning and heading for the door. The front of the red blouse she was wearing barely made it past Sam’s arm without a collision. “Afraid it won’t be so easy to put the screws to somebody else if I left, Sammy?” She paused at the door for a moment to look at him one last time, her silhouette telling him all there was to know about what he’d be missing. “Some habits are hard to break, but I guess you’ll have to make do without this one.” Tasia turned her back on him and walked away.

  Elaine stared at Sam until he looked at her. It was curious that he should feel free to take liberties with Carl’s mistress, especially since it was obvious that the boss never liked to share anything. For a man who didn’t like to make waves, Sam seemed to be setting himself up to make plenty.

  After leaving the stable, Elaine followed Tasia until she managed to catch up with her. She kept glancing at her as they walked, but Tasia didn’t say anything right away. “Hey, I heard from that household in Flint,” Tasia said, stuffing her hands inside the back pockets of her jeans as she walked.

  “You answered the ad!”

  “Yeah,” she said. “They want to see me for an interview next Saturday. Maybe I’ll have to bake brownies or something. They could ask me to take some kind of cooking test like that. Maybe I’ll go crazy and whip up grilled grits with pork cubes and gazpacho salsa. I could top things off by serving apple fritters with a chocolate-caramel sauce.”

  “Too bad I can’t come with you,” Elaine said.

  Tasia’s smile faded. “When I leave, I’m going to miss you and the rest,” she said. “Zach especially. But he’s already out of my life, isn’t he? You guys are all I’ve got.” Her eyes were glittering with tears, but her voice didn’t betray her; she was sad, but years of hard living had taught her to be strong. She had to be.

  Looking pensive again, Tasia added, “I just wish I could have friends around and not feel as if I have to keep doing things for them all the time. Especially men, you know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s like, if you give them what they want, it makes them happy and they treat you so damned nice. Of course that only lasts for a little while. Jeez, they all want one thing, don’t they?”

  “That’s not true, Tasia. There are a lot of men who’d rather be friends with you instead of having a physical relationship with you.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where are they?” She stopped walking and started grinning as if she knew all the answers to questions about men and women and how they got on with each other. Pointing over her shoulder, she said, “If you lined up every man I’ve ever known who wasn’t interested in sleeping with me just for the hell of it, and had each one of them stand single file behind me…. There wouldn’t be enough men left standing there to cover my ass.” That thought was so depressing and yet sounded so funny, they both started chuckling. “Nah,” Tasia said, “they’re all alike.”

  “Come on. You really don’t believe that.”

  “I do. I don’t want to, but I do. I’d give anything to find one man who’d be willing to spend the rest of his life with me. I thought Zach was that man.” Shaking her blonde head, she looked reflective. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my short lifetime, it’s that the only person you can trust is the one who doesn’t ask you for anything. Where are all the men like that? Do you know any?”

  “I’d like to believe that I do.”

  Tasia smiled. “Well, you keep on thinking positive, Elaine. God shines His light on folks like you.” Pausing, she looked disheartened. “Sometimes I feel like He’s only shining a flashlight on me.” Clouds moved in just then, dulling the sunlight. The shadow on Tasia’s face made her skin appear coppery and likewise deadened the sparkle of her intensely blue eyes. “But, then again,” she continued, glancing up into the sky, “I guess the batteries have just expired.”
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