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The shrill beep, beep, beep from Tasia’s pager woke Elaine from a restless slumber. Rolling over and raising herself up on one elbow, she turned on a table lamp. Tasia’s bed hadn’t been slept in, and the pager was lying on top of the spread.
“Gee willies,” Heather Trumble said, sitting up to stretch and yawn. “It’s my turn to fetch that, ain’t it, Elaine?”
“Yes. Tasia doesn’t seem to be here,” she said, smoothing her hair back and listening to Betty snore through it all.
“She was watching David Letterman when I left the lounge. Can you imagine staying up that late on a work night?” Heather put her feet inside her fuzzy, pink polyester slippers and grabbed a white robe draped over the headboard. “And she’s gotta go to the market this morning. Breakfast’s at seven.”
“I don’t think she’s too concerned about missing breakfast at this point,” Elaine said, lying down and stretching an arm over her face. “She was pretty upset last night.”
“Was she?” Heather asked, still without a clue. Sometimes Elaine envied her for being able to live in the world for over forty years and not notice any of the ugliness.
“I’d say so.”
“Mr. Kastenmeier’ll be mad when he sees me comin’,” Heather predicted, not realizing how right she was. Elaine uncovered her eyes when Heather left, closing the bedroom door softly behind her.
Reaching up to turn off the lamp beside her bed, Elaine noticed a light coming from under the bathroom door. Tasia had to be in there. The shower wasn’t running; she could’ve been soaking in the tub, but that was doubtful. Elaine didn’t want to imagine what she was doing. Throwing a sheet up around her neck and trying to go back to sleep was easier than looking for trouble.
For no reason other than curiosity, Elaine couldn’t stop staring down at the light coming in from under the bathroom door. Something was wrong, she could almost smell it. And what was that saying about curiosity and the cat? Silence fell over the room like a shroud, perfuming the air with a curious mix of cigarette ash and copper.
Then, as if from nowhere, a low, lumbering murmur could be heard. It was a faint, barely audible sound, a ghoulish suggestion sending chills down her spine. She sat up and listened. The exaggerated acoustics in the bathroom muffled the distinctness of each word spoken. One thing was for sure, though; the voice belonged to Tasia, and she sounded happier than she’d been in months.
Sitting up and studying the bathroom light as if nothing else mattered, Elaine wanted to go over and open the door, but her body felt frozen. Just thinking about what could be making Tasia so joyous was disturbing. Perhaps she was high to the point of being delusional. Maybe the alcohol and drugs were killing her. Whatever the reason, nothing good could come from someone in her state of mind sounding so lighthearted and gay after the fiercely destructive night she’d had.
Under the door, the tiled floor was illuminated by the fluorescent light inside like a lacquered tabletop. Entranced by it, Elaine found it impossible to turn away. As if by some sordid magic, the beige and white tile seemed to be getting darker with time. Drifting forward, the murky cloud was made brighter by the light. Edging under the door, it started seeping into the coral-colored carpeting on the other side.
Throwing the sheets off and standing up, Elaine turned on the lamp beside her bed. She couldn’t stop staring at the floor under the door. “Tasia?” she said.
When she reached the door, she knocked but no one answered. Tasia’s contented rambling could still be heard on the other side. Elaine tried the door but it was locked. Knocking louder and shouting this time, she managed to arouse Betty from slumber, but got no response at all from Tasia.
“What the hell are you doing?” Betty asked, lifting her head. “Are you crazy?”
“It’s Tasia. I think she’s in trouble.”
Heather came back and found Elaine pounding on the bathroom door. “What are you doing?” she asked, growing alarmed.
“Go and get Cameron,” Elaine said. “Now!”
Heather didn’t ask any more questions. Running out of the room and into the hallway, she headed for the men’s quarters without waiting to be told twice. All of the excitement drove Betty into a sitting position and prompted her to turn on her small reading light.
“What the hell is that?” Betty asked, pointing to the damp darkness pouring in from under the door.
“I think it’s blood,” Elaine said, knocking again. “Tasia! Tasia, open the door!”
When Cameron came in and saw what was going on, he didn’t hesitate. Eerily, he acted as if this had all happened before. He went right to the door and broke it in. The force he used to do so propelled his body forward, and his bare feet landed right in the middle of the blood on the floor. It splashed around him, dotting the bottom of his light blue pajamas. He hadn’t bothered to wear the tops, and the thick, black hair on his chest rose and receded with every anxious breath. “Oh, my God!” was all he said, for he’d been the first to see what was inside.
Tasia was sitting on the floor with her back propped up against the toilet bowl. The front of her slip was stained a scarlet red. With both arms down at her sides, the blood had clotted on the right wrist, but it gushed from the left with every heartbeat like water from one of the fountains out on the lawn. Her eyes were closed and her face was as pale as the white wall behind her. Carl’s favorite straight razor was on the floor beside her, almost engulfed in blood. There were cuts on her neck above the thyroid cartilage, but they didn’t seem as bad as the rest of them. A little smile brightened her blood-splattered face.
John Linton came into the bedroom and stood behind them. He shook his head when he saw what had happened. “Dumb bitch,” he declared, propping one hand against the bathroom doorjamb and being careful not to soil his trousers. “I’ll tell Carl.” When he walked out of the room, Betty settled into the space he’d left unoccupied.
“Gee, have you ever seen so much blood?” Betty said to no one in particular. She started biting on one of her thumbnails.
“Get me something to make tourniquets with!” Cameron said.
Elaine tore open the closet door and grabbed the first two belts she happened upon. Running back into the bathroom, she slipped on the blood.
“Careful,” Cameron cautioned, taking one of the belts and wrapping it around Tasia’s left arm. “This one’s the worst. My God, her hand looks like it’s gonna fall off!”
“Here,” Elaine said, giving him the second belt. Snatching it away from her, he tied it around Tasia’s other arm as fast as he could, and then raised both of her arms over her head and held them there.
Tasia opened her eyes when she realized she was being tended to, and started sobbing. It was a deep, throaty kind of sob, evoking such pathos from Elaine that she felt like crying, too. “Don’t,” she rasped, barely able to breathe. “Let me die. Let me die. Let me die.”
“Call for an ambulance,” Cameron said. “Hurry up!”
Elaine got up but lost her footing before getting very far. She fell on her hands and knees right in the middle of the blood at her feet, dousing herself with a generous portion. By the time she got to the telephone, she had almost as much blood on her as Tasia did.
After making the call, Elaine went back and stood beside Heather and Betty in the doorway. Cameron was still holding Tasia’s arms above her head.
“Just let me die, let me die,” Tasia kept repeating over and over again. Her lethargy from blood loss and her constant weeping made her look pathetic. At this point, it wasn’t easy to believe that stopping her was the best thing they could’ve done for her.
Going back inside the bathroom, Elaine knelt beside her. She took Tasia in her arms and held her tight. After all of the excitement, the low brought a deep, dreary depression, and Elaine wept as well. All Tasia did was stare off into space, mumbling as before. While her head was so close, it was easy to understand what she was saying.
“I love you, Daddy,” she said breath
lessly, before falling limp in Elaine’s arms. Tasia’s flaxen, blood-matted hair brushed against Elaine’s right cheek, tickling it a little.