Since Monica had been informed by Jim that Harry would have a talk with her on Monday, Monica wasn't very happy about going to work. She had even thought about feigning sickness in an effort to hold off the inevitable for another day. She was ready to accept the ramifications on the previous Friday, but over the weekend, she had different thoughts about accepting the liability for her failure to accomplish the tasks that Jim had set out for her to do. The job wasn't difficult and now that she thought about how much easier it would have been to show a little more effort, than to be in hot water now, she wished she could have carried out her endeavors.
Monica expected Jim and Harry to be sitting in her office when she arrived on Monday morning, but was surprised and relieved to see the office empty as she entered.
"Whew," she said, pushing herself away from her workstation and to the light switch on the wall. Just as she flicked it up, voices broke up the silence around her area. They were getting louder and coming her way. Monica looked out of her doorway and saw the bodies to which the voices belonged. Jim and Harry were almost upon her. Too late, they saw her.
"Monica," said Jim, as they approached, "Harry and I would like to speak with you before the day begins."
"Please sit down," invited Monica.
She slipped behind her desk, as Jim closed the door behind them.
"Thanks," said Harry. "Monica, you know why I am here and I hope that we can work things out so that no one gets hurt. To make sure I understand the problem as presented to me, I will go over the facts that I have, with you.
"It isn't necessary to go over them. I agree with what you know, Harry, because I don't believe Jim would give you anything but the truth to work with."
Monica looked at Jim and smiled.
"Well, then, I guess we can proceed to the heart of the matter," said Harry. "Why did you not complete the work which Jim gave to you, Monica? If there is a good reason, we will do everything in our power or the company's to help you over the obstacle."
"I can not tell you the reason why I didn't do the work, Harry, any more than I could tell Jim. The problem that I have is one that can only be solved by me. It is personal and involves several people, none of whom work for Quagmeyer."
"You are wrong, Monica," interrupted Harry, "whenever it comes to you not being able or not wanting to do the work as assigned here at the company, then it does become a company matter and very definitely involves more than just yourself. If you don't want help with the problem, that is one thing, but if you cannot cope with the circumstances, then maybe we can be of help. I realize it is very difficult to discuss personal matters with someone you do not know very well and possibly do not even trust because of the length of the friendship, but we are friends, I hope."
"I do think of you and Jim as friends and I understand that you are just doing your job, but my problem is of such a nature that only I can solve it. Telling you and Jim about the subject in greater detail would only make things worse."
"Do you need some legal help?" asked Harry.
"The company has allowed their employees to use the services of the company attorneys from time to time, Monica," added Jim. "If it is a question of even needing legal advice, Monica," included Harry, "the company can help."
"No legal advice is needed," answered Monica, "I am sorry that I can't tell you the reasons for my behavior."
"Okay, Monica," said Harry, getting up from his seat. "If you will not tell us how to help you, then let me ask you another question? Do you want us to give you more time to complete the chores given to you by Jim, and if we do, will you, in fact move along the lines to completion within a reasonable time?"
She raised her head back and glanced at the ceiling, then she looked at Harry. "If you give me the opportunity to do the job, I will not let you down this time."
"What do you think, Jim?" asked Harry.
"I am willing to give Monica a chance to get us the answers we need to get the personnel job done."
"We will give you another week to get the work completed, Monica," said Harry, "but if you do not have it completed, then we will have to take steps to find someone who is interested in working. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Harry," she replied, "thanks for another chance."
"Jim will let me know how you two are making out next Monday, so I will be talking with you." Harry opened the door and left. "Do you have any questions before I leave?" asked Jim, standing up.
"No, Jim, I will get started on solving the systems problem right away."
"If you need any answers, you know where I am, Monica." Jim turned around and walked to his office.
After Jim had gone, Monica began to sift through the details of the program in an honest effort to solve the design work connected with the system with which she was working. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate on the activity, she could not help thinking about Rose and Bob, and how she could hurt them.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, that she didn't hear Jim come up to her office door and rap. "You really are concentrating now, aren't you, Monica?" he said.
Her upper body jumped. "You startled me, Jim. I didn't even hear you approach."
"I tapped on your door, but you didn't hear me, so I thought I may as well make some noise. You know it is lunchtime, Monica, and I didn't want you working without eating."
"Lunch sounds good to me, Jim."
"I would offer to take you to lunch, Monica, but I have some errands to do."
"Maybe I will take a stroll down by the river, in the park," said Monica, "after I grab a sandwich."
"Should be a nice day for a stroll down there today, and they should have the fountain going. See you when I get back, Monica."
"Bye, Jim."
After grabbing a sandwich in the company cafeteria, Monica left the building and began her pace to Point State Park. She pushed herself slowly along Liberty Avenue, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
An elderly lady dressed in bright blue slacks and white shirt came up behind her and said, "Do you need any help, dearie?"
Monica stopped and turned to face the speaker. She sighted a woman, whom she believed to be at least eighty years old, standing with a cane. The woman's sparse silvery hair blew gently in the wind, and her wrinkled face displayed the years.
"Thank you very much, Ma'am, but I can get along okay," Monica's mouth opened and her eyes danced.
"If you need any help, dearie, just give me a yell whenever you see me around."
"Thank you," said Monica, as she watched the woman meander down the sidewalk.
Monica began to move the wheels to go forward and as she approached the intersection of Fifth and Liberty, a man offered to help her down over the curb and onto the one across the street. She read the name of the building embossed by a golden swath along Liberty and continued on to the intersection of Stanwix and Liberty. A delegate to a convention came along behind her and helped her negotiate the curbs. He didn't even ask if he could be of help, he just did the job.
She was now at the blacktop pavement that would lead her to the main part of the park. At first she drifted along, trying to get Rose and Bob out of her head, but she could not accomplish the erasure.
"I am worse than a computer," she said to herself, "I can't get rid of my bad memory."
She stopped for a few minutes to gaze at the green grass in the part of the park where she was located, then her eyes moved ahead to the bridge under which she would pass in a few minutes. The cars sped over the structure, some going toward the Fort Pitt Tunnels, some toward the North Side.
Monica began the journey to the center of the park and within a few minutes, she was going under the bridge she had just looked at from the entrance. On the archway for allowing the people to pass under the span, there was a rail on each side to keep the passersby near the edge of the ramp, yet away from the water on both sides. During the summer, the city placed fish into the pools and allowed them to swim around for viewing by the park patrons. The clear water and the cobblestone bottom was without a doubt beautiful in anyone's eyes. Several black boys were beginning to take off their shoes and socks, whenever a park policeman approached the ramp and asked them what they were planning to do.
The shorter of the two boys looked up at the policeman and said, "We were just taking some stones out of our shoes, we weren't going into the pool."
"I think I heard that before, boys," said the young man in the blue uniform. He looked at Monica and winked his eye. "You fellows better put those shoes back on and take a walk."
"Okay," they agreed.
Monica looked down at the end of the park and saw a spray of water shooting high into the air. The fountain was spewing forth and she could see people standing close to the structure in an effort to be caught in the aftermath of the spray. Instead of going down to the fountain, Monica wheeled herself past the Fort Pitt Museum.
The building was tucked alongside the bridge and on the left, as she pushed herself along to the Monongahela River. In front of the earth-covered structure, which stored items form the past, were two small cannons. Two school children were looking closely at them as Monica went by. A little farther to the right, there were many more children, taking turns entering the Fort Pitt Blockhouse. The yelling and screaming that went on reminded Monica of her childhood at the orphanage when she used to go on an outing. A small blonde girl ran to Monica and said, "How are you doing?"
"I am fine," answered Monica, with a smile. "How are you?"
A teacher with the group of kids came over and took the child by the hand. "You mustn't bother people in the park, Carol."
"She wasn't bothering me," said Monica.
"Sometimes it is tough keeping track of these young kids," said the tall woman, "particularly whenever you take them out on these kinds of trips."
"I know what you mean," replied Monica.
"We had better get back to the others," said the teacher, "Have a nice day in the park."
"Thank you," said Monica, as she watched the two walk away.
Monica could not help but notice the small shining brown boulders lining the edge of the pavement with the gravel strewn between the boulders and flowers sprucing up their sides. The part of the circle path she was following led her to a bricked walkway along the river. She came to rest by a bench and gazed out upon the yellowish water.
Monica eyed the yellow beams spanning the river. She had driven across the Fort Pitt Bridge many times, but never viewed the structure from this vantage point.
"My God, how much longer the bridge looks from down here," she said, moving herself closer to the stairs leading to a walkway nearer the edge of the Monongahela.
The choppy water lashed at the concrete and brick abutments lining the bank where she was sitting. For a few seconds she saw something moving with each tugging of the water.
"Looks like a fish," she thought, "wonder why he is swimming so close to the shore."
The humming sound of a small boat speeding up the river caused her attention to be drawn from the small object in the water. She watched the craft cut a path through the water and the ever widening wake it left behind. Almost as fast as the boat had approached, it went out of sight.
"That noise probably frightened the fish away," she said, focusing her eyes below her. "No wonder the fish was near the top," she gasped, "he is dead."
Monica wiped beneath her nose, then sighed. She shook her head, then looked across the river to the train passing.
"Someone will be getting the new cars being carried on the train," she commented, "but one of the owners will not be Monica Rawlings."
"I wonder why it isn't hard to watch a train go by, perhaps because they create a relaxing feeling with their constant motion," she wondered aloud. "The park is really beautiful and I imagine the dwellers in the apartment building overhanging the hill on Mount Washington have a magnificent view of the city during the day and evening hours. I would like to have the money they are paying to live in those units."
Her thoughts were interrupted by heavy breathing and the pounding of running feet. She turned slightly to the right and saw two men dressed in blue jogging suits heading in her direction. They glanced at her and continued on the path toward the museum.
"Wished I could do that," she said, "but because of some stupid drunk, all I can do is ride around in a wheelchair. They can have all the fun they want out of life and what do I get to do, nothing. I even lost the only true love I ever had in my life. Why did Rose and Bob have to show me they loved each other? They disgust me. What difference does life make now that I have lost Bob?"
She looked into the water and was amazed at the feeling inside her body. The movement of the slapping waves against the cement wall entranced her. She became hypnotized by every change the liquid made in its appearance. Monica moved her wheelchair back and edged forward to the roadway, which would lead her to the edge.
The bricked road was a little bumpy as she moved along to the Monongahela, but she didn't come to a complete stop when she neared her destination, instead her mind flashed back to her experience at the orphanage. She looked into the sky, bit her upper lip, then her hands pulled the wheels of the chair very rapidly. Monica could not control her actions any longer. She wanted to die.
"This is for you and Bob, Rose!" she yelled upon going into the river. Her hands came up out of the yellow mass and her head bobbed.
"Hey, that woman on the wheelchair has gone into the river!" yelled a man who had been reading a newspaper about one hundred feet from where Monica had been pondering her fate. He waved frantically for the joggers running down the middle of the park. They came over to him and he said, "That woman in the wheelchair is drowning and I can't swim." He pointed to the empty chair laying face down on the roadway, then they saw a hand come out of the water.
"There she is, John, see her hand," said the younger of the two joggers. They ran to the spot where Monica had plunged and both jumped in.
Monica was feeling no pain since she had swallowed a lot of water. The brine went into her mouth and nose. She hated the smell and taste, but didn't try to stop what she was trying to accomplish. She was a good swimmer, but her fight was gone because she felt all was lost when she viewed the sex escapade.
One of the men had grabbed her when he went under the water on his dive. "I have her," he said, upon returning to the surface. "Help me get her out of this murky stuff," said the rescuer to his buddy.
The partner pulled himself up onto the concrete bank, reached for Monica and lifted her out of the water.
"Do you think she is still alive?" he asked, looking at his jogging partner who was reaching for the stone bank. "I don't know, but we will have to give her artificial respiration to get the water out of her lungs."
The man who collared her in the large pool, turned Monica on her back, and began to apply the life saving method. He worked on her for a few minutes, which seemed to him like hours. She finally responded, by coughing.
A crowd of people looked on as the man smiled when he heard the sign of life from the girl he had just pulled from the brink of death. An ambulance siren blared as the vehicle came through the park to the location where the crowd gathered.
Monica's eyes opened and she looked at the two men in drenched jogging suits. "Why didn't you let me stay in there and sink?" she cried.
"We couldn't just let a good looking girl like you pass from this earth just yet," said John. "Yes," added Bill, the other jogger, "how would all the guys feel if we let you slip out on us?" The two ambulance attendants pushed through the crowd to reach the ground where Monica lay. "What happened to the girl?" asked the black emergency medical attendant.
"She fell in the water when she got too close and tried to drink most of it," offered Bill.
"How do you feel, Miss?" asked the man to Monica. "I am alright." she answered.
"We want to be sure you are okay so we will take you to the hospital and have them check you over." I don't want to go to any hospital," she protested.
"We are going anyhow," he replied. His partner had pulled the cart from the ambulance with the help of Bill and rolled it to the area where Monica lay.
"Okay, let us pick you up and get on our way," he said.
Monica was gently placed onto the white covering and one of the EMTs placed a blanket over her body. The joggers and the technicians placed the loaded buggy into the rear of the red and white vehicle.
"Wait a minute," said Bill, "you had better take her wheelchair with you." He ran over and picked it up and gave it to the driver of the ambulance.
The EMT placed the chair into the rear of his wagon and then closed the door. Then he got inside the vehicle and started on the way to the hospital.
The crowd of people watched the rotating beam of light on the vehicle as it disappeared from view, but the siren continued to sound for several minutes, until the distance eliminated the sound.
Bill looked at John and started to laugh.
"How are we going to explain our wet suits?" he said to John.
"I don't know about you, but I am just going to say that I perspire quite a bit more than the average person."
"I would say about a ton more than average," said Bill.
"Think we better get back to work, Bill," said John. They started to jog toward the tunnel under the bridge.
"Why do you think that girl jumped into the river?" asked Bill, as he tugged on his drenched top.
"Beats the heck out of me," answered John. "We were able to save her this time, but the next time, who knows? It is hard to reason out the problem behind an action such as taking your life. If we were in her circumstances, maybe we would try the same thing."
"I don't think we will ever know the problem, John, but maybe we should keep an eye out for her whenever we are jogging."
"We finally agree on something," grinned John.
The men stopped momentarily for a traffic light near the Hilton Hotel, then jogged across the street and away from Gateway Center. The ambulance with Monica inside backed into the slot at the hospital where she was immediately delivered to the emergency room. "What is her problem?" asked a nurse whenever the EMTs wheeled into the emergency area.
"She has swallowed enough water to make her sick," said the one on the right of the cart. "How is she doing now?" asked the nurse.
"Most of her difficulty is over as far as the water is concerned," added the attendant. "Where do you want us to put her until you can look her over?"
"Can you sit up ma'am?" an intern asked as he came over to the scene.
"Afraid not, doc, you see I cannot get around without my wheelchair," said Monica, as she gave the fledgling doctor a so-so look. "Do you feel alright, Miss?" he asked.
"Yes, I feel ok and I certainly do not have to be here in this lousy hospital, because I am not hurt nor do I feel badly."
One of the EMTs and the nurse drifted off to the side where she was informed of the events that had lead to Monica arriving in the hospital.
Monica saw them whispering and said, "What are you two huddling about over there? Are you talking about me?"
"We are not discussing you," said the nurse.
"Come off it!" yelled Monica, "Are you afraid to tell anyone the truth? Why can't you speak over here then? You can't fool me. Both of you are just trying to hide your talk and make me look silly. All I did was drop into the river, it was an accident. Why all the fuss?"
"Pull her over into this room for observation," said the intern, motioning with his left hand.
A few seconds later the other attendant came into the space where Monica had been ushered and placed Monica's wheelchair into the corner. "She will need this, doctor," he said.
The individuals surrounding Monica left with the exception of the intern.
"Let me check you over, Miss, so that we can be sure you are okay and we don't have to worry anyone in your family."
"I don't have any family," retorted Monica.
"You must have someone who cares about you and is part of your family," said the doctor.
"I just told you that there isn't anyone you have to worry about telling anything concerning my swallowing water."
"Where do you live now?" he asked.
"What difference does it make!" she snapped. "For our reports," he answered.
"I can't see what difference it makes whether I have any relatives or not, " she said as the doctor placed the stethoscope on her chest. "That thing is cold," she grimaced, "why can't you heat the metal before putting it on someone's chest?"
"I like to watch the expression on a person's face whenever I place this gadget upon them. If they respond like you, then I know they are okay, and if they do not feel the cold then chances are the individual is in trouble."
"Great," she said, "I get a doctor who tells the status of his patients by the way they react to his cold stethoscope."
"Well," said the young man of twenty-eight, "that was the way I was taught in medical school and it seems to work. I don't know about anyone else, but my method is a good detector of a patient's condition."
Monica smiled, this doctor reminded her of Doctor Stepanic. He was younger, but he had the same attitude as Stepanic because of the humor injected into his work.
"You are going to have to tell us who you are living with or who your relatives are before you leave her, Monica, otherwise you are in for a long stay."
"I still don't see what difference it makes, doctor, because I am certainly old enough to take care of myself."
"It doesn't make any sense for you to hold back the names of people who care about you, Monica, and as I just stated, you are not going anywhere until I get the name or names of friends or relatives."
"Don't you listen whenever I talk," she answered. "Yes, I am listening."
"You sure don't show it", she snapped, "because I told you before that I have no relatives, and you just keep harping on the same thing all the time."
"Maybe you haven't any relatives, but must have some friends who care where you are. As I said before, Monica, we cannot allow you to leave here without a friend or relative."
"You can't hold me here!" she screamed, "Do you think we are in Russia?"
"Okay, young lady, I have had enough of your back talk," said the doctor pointing his right index finger at Monica. "Just because you don't care about yourself doesn't mean that no one else does. My job is to save lives if I can and I am not going to listen to some girl give me a bunch of baloney about people not exhibiting affection for you. Even though I share to some extent your resentment of life because of your difficulty, you can't expect me to let you go out and try to commit suicide all over again."
"I didn't try to commit suicide," she said, covering one fist with the other and raising them to her chin.
"Come on, Monica, you know as well as I do that you tried to take your life. The question is why you tried to drop from the living?" She stared at him, then her eyes' closed.
"You are not going to be able to forget about your experience today, Monica, and even by closing your eyes and hoping this is all a dream, will do you no good."
She opened her eyes and looked up at the man standing before her. "What are you?" she asked, "A psychiatrist?"
"You could say that I have training in the subject. Psychiatry, however is far from an accepted science and most of the time any doctor cannot help or reach those persons who believe they are wasting on earth. No one single person can be helped if they place distrust in the individual giving or striving to give them help. Believe me, Monica, when I say there are more nuts walking the streets than in the looney farms. I don't believe you are a lunatic, but I do think you have a little problem. Why don't you want to tell me who your friends are, Monica? Did one or some of them cause you to do what you did in the park? A good looking girl such a yourself must have had a good motive for going swimming with all your clothes on."
"I didn't have any real reason," she replied.
"Do you work at all?" he asked. "Yes."
"Where?"
"Quagmeyer Corporation."
"What type of work do you do?"
"I was hired as a programmer."
"Are you having trouble with work. Monica? Is your work a big problem, in other words are you finding it difficult to cope with the situation or circumstances you find yourself in?"
"My work isn't causing me any pain and I don't like you insinuating that I can't handle working."
"I am not saying you are having trouble with the place where you are employed, Monica, I am just trying to find sufficient reason why you tried to kill yourself."
"You keep trying to tell me that I tried to do something and all I did was fall into the river."
"My understanding is of more than a little fall as you would have me believe. An individual saw you head for the river and actually throw yourself into the murky water. How do you explain what this man saw?"
"He doesn't know what he is talking about." She turned her head away.
"If you can tell me on the Bible that you did not try to do away with you life, Monica, then I will believe you. I will go and get one and then we can end this discussion once and for all."
"Go and get it."
He went to the door and began to turn the knob.
"Wait!" she said. "You will not have to get the Bible. I tried to do away with myself and I might have been able to succeed if it hadn't been for the man who saw me go into the water and for those two joggers, who pulled me out."
"Okay, Monica, now that we have the story straight, why, don't you tell me about your relatives?"
"When I said I do not have any relatives, that is true. I live in an apartment with a friend."
"What is your friend's name?"
"Rose."
"Is she working now?"
"Yes."
He removed a small sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and handed it along with a pencil to her. "Write her name and telephone number down for me on this, please?"
She accepted the sheet and printed the information requested by the intern. He walked to the door.
"Where are you going?" she inquired.
"To get a nurse and have her call your friend. We will want her to come down and take you home."
"Oh."
"Be back in one minute."
For the few minutes he was gone, Monica began to hear Rose's voice. "Why did you do it, Monica? I thought we were friends and could talk things over. Is it because of Bob and me? Why Monica, why did you try to do away with your life?"
The door opened and the doctor returned with a nurse.
"Do you have the name and phone number for us, Monica?" She handed him the paper and his pencil. He accepted the tools and handed the stationery to the woman who had accompanied him into the room."
"Give this lady a call and tell her we would like her to come to the hospital to pick up her friend, then let me know when she will be here. Thanks."
The nurse entered the room, looked at the doctor and said, "This woman's friend will be here within a half-hour."
"Thank you," he replied. "While we are waiting for your friend, Monica, I can get some other work accomplished. I will have Mrs.
Rey stay with you until I get back."
"It will not be necessary for the nurse to be here," interrupted Monica. "You would have someone to talk with," he replied.
"I am sure she can be of more help to you, doctor, than me. Anyhow, you have people out there," she said, pointing to the outpatient area, "who need her services more than me. If I need help, I will call."
"Are you sure you