CHAPTER 18
Whenever Monica returned to work, she didn't know exactly what to expect. Upon entering the building, she met some of the employees of Quagmeyer on the elevator. After exchanging hellos with them, she got off the elevator and moved her wheelchair down the hall to her office.
As she prodded along, she could not help but wonder if the people knew she had tried to commit suicide. Surely, someone from the company had been in the park and spread the word about the nut from Quagmeyer who tried drinking the sour water from one of the three rivers. No one seemed to show their disdain for a suicidal person. She reached the doorway to her office and, upon entering, turned the lights on.
She looked at the telephone, expecting the gadget to ring. Certainly, Harry Martin would be calling her this morning and, knowing him, it would be early. As Monica positioned herself behind her desk, the phone rang. She allowed the black box to sound off four more times before answering the call.
"Hello, Monica Rawlings here," she uttered into the receiver.
"Monica, Harry Martin here. I would like to see you in my office as soon as possible, preferably now, because I have a meeting later on this morning, and maybe you and I can have a discussion about how things are going."
"Okay, Harry, I will be right down." She placed the receiver slowly into its receptacle. “I suppose he want to discuss my future with the firm, or rather, my lack of future with the firm would be more like it. Since I tried to take a bath in the river, maybe they found someone to do the work I was supposed to be doing. Guess I better move down and see him."
A short time later, Monica was outside of Harry Martin's office facing his secretary. "Hi, Monica, how are you doing this beautiful morning?"
"I am just great," said Monica to the secretary. "Thank you for asking."
"Harry is waiting for you, so go right inside."
Monica wheeled herself to the opening and entered Harry's office. His secretary closed the door.
"Good morning, Monica," said Harry before sitting back down to his chair. "I am glad to see you here today."
"Thanks, Harry."
"Well, Monica," he said, picking up a pencil and tapping the top of his desk, "there is no sense horsing around the manure pile. I understand that you tried to end your life by throwing yourself into the Monongahela. The doctor from the hospital called here and told me about the incident. He is very interested in making sure it doesn't happen again, and so is everyone here at Quagmeyer. What the hell made you do such a stupid thing? Was the work we gave you the cause?" He didn't give her a chance to respond.
"I have seem people do crazy things because of the schedule of work to be done, but never trying to commit suicide. Why, Monica, why?"
She faced Harry and their eyes locked.
"Do you think you would understand, Harry?"
"Try me, Monica, and see."
"The answer to your question about the work causing me to want to end my life is „no', Harry. In no way did the job have a significant effect on my wanting to bug out on the living. My problem is a personal one and one which I didn't feel I could share with anyone not connected with the problem. I guess I was feeling sorry for myself and I didn't think or believe anyone cared a lot for a person confined to a wheelchair."
"Whatever gave you that kind of idea, Monica? You know that everyone here has gone out of his or her way to try and make you feel comfortable as a new employee. If we didn't think you could make the grade or do the job we have for you, we would not have taken the chance on hiring you. Your being a woman had nothing to do with you obtaining the position. You got the job on your own, by knowing something about what we discussed in the interview, and, let me tell you, a lot of prospective employees don't get by the questions I ask. I am sorry for going on this way and not letting you explain the why to me, Monica."
He leaned back in his chair. "Go ahead, Monica."
"I know you and Jim and everyone here has tried their best to make me feel wanted, and I am sorry if I created problems for you. If the people below you are not doing the job expected of them, then you catch hell, and if I put you in this position of taking abuse for me, Harry, I am very sorry. Thanks for giving me another chance at completing the system I was working on."
"You can thank me once you get the job done."
"I…I guess you want to hear why I pushed myself into the river?"
"Yes, Monica, only because if you confide in someone, then maybe, just maybe, we can set each other straight."
"Being a man, Harry, I don't know if you will understand how I feel about something that I found out about two of my best friends a week ago."
"I have feelings, Monica, and just because they don't show sometimes, doesn't mean that I am devoid of them. Being a man certainly doesn't exempt me from showing emotion about things, or about people. When I heard what happened the other day, I just couldn't believe that you could attempt such a stunt. How could a nice person like you, who seemed adjusted to her situation, try to drink so much water? In fact, I still can't begin to realize it happened. As far as I know, no one else here at Quagmeyer is aware of your experience in the park, unless they were down in that vicinity whenever you took the plunge. The doctor who looked you over at the hospital, and spoke with you, seemed to be a nice guy. He telephoned me and sounded sad, almost as if he were talking about someone in his own family. The reason that he telephoned me, Monica, is that he is concerned with the well being of all his patients and because you have a little handicap, he feels bad, because he doesn't know why you would try to destroy yourself. Although he didn't get the reason from you, Monica, he feels that someone you can trust would determine the problem and possibly help you overcome the obstacle. That is why he called, Monica. Not to tell me we had a crazy person on our hands, but to solicit our help here at Quagmeyer in solving a problem which he cannot solve because of the small fact which remains that he may never see the patient again."
"He was a nice fellow," added Monica.
"Well, Monica, all I can say is that you are something special here at this company, and most of us here would go out of our way to help you in any way possible."
"I believe you, Harry," she said, her eyes blinking.
"If you can tell me what is bothering you, Monica, then some solution can be worked out … I hope."
"Okay, Harry, I will tell you why I tried to stop breathing. I never have talked about my roommate or my former boyfriend. Bob and I were going to be married before I had my accident last year, and even up to the point when I found out I would not be able to walk again. I suppose that I never have really accepted the fact that my legs will never support me again. All the sports I enjoyed before the accident are gone forever and I will never be able to participate in them again. You have to understand that the problem with being active in something, and finding out you will no longer be able to become involved again, is a pill hard to swallow even if you use a good lubricant. One day everything was going my way and the next, my life was shattered. Sure, the fellow who was driving the truck that smashed into my car died, but what kind of consolation is that whenever I can't walk? My world stopped the day after the accident whenever I couldn't move my legs. Do you know what kind of feeling you get whenever your brain gives the command to do something and whatever is supposed to happen, doesn't?"
"No, Monica, I can't say that I do." Harry glanced at the floor.
"Well, I know the feeling and, let me tell you, there is nothing like it. There are many reactions to a situation like this one I just described, but how do you deal with what you feel? Many times I closed my eyes hoping to awaken and find out I had been in a bad dream. It never happened, the dream, I mean, the way I wanted things to be."
"Do you know how if feels to lay in a hospital bed for months not knowing what your position in life will be after suffering a blow such as mine? I realize that I am not the first person involved in losing the use of their legs and that I probably will not be the last. The problem is, Harry, that there is absolutely nothing I can do about the way I feel. I know that you feel sorry for me, but I don't want sympathy."
"Monica, if I may interrupt. I do feel sorry for you, but I have not treated you any different than anyone else in my department. As I said before, you have the job here with us because we, and I am not only speaking for myself, believe you are capable of becoming one of the best employees we could ever want. But the effort has to be mostly yours, you have to want to accomplish the goals we set for you, even if you don't like the type of project you might be working on."
"Throughout my employment days, Monica, there have been times when I wished that I had kicked the bucket, but then I thought about all the things I had going for me and then decided that I should not make anyone happy by keeling over. A lot of people that I have worked with have made me want to throw up, but I stuck it out and figured one day or another that I would be in charge of a good sized department, and not treat employees in the manner in which I have seem some managed. I don't go for a lot of baloney, but I am not exactly a stone-faced person either. Everyone has good and bad thoughts, Monica, and, like I said, probably a lot of individuals have wanted to do what you did at some point in their life."
"It is just that most of us are cowards, Monica, who shoot off at the mouth, but would not really pursue the route you did. I am not sure that what you attempted took courage or stupidity, but, whatever, I am very happy you survived to fight another day. Continue, Monica."
"I guess I didn't realize that more people thought about doing what I did, Harry. But, as you say, most individuals probably wouldn't be stupid enough to try something like drowning themselves. I am trying to cope with reality, Harry, but it is difficult and the things that bother me probably seem insignificant to you."
"No matter what the difficulty is, Monica, you can always talk it over with me."
"Yes, I have been told that before," said Monica, squirming in her chair. "I suppose in my case of trying to be understood, I get the feeling that people want to listen as a courtesy, but do not really care too much about helping."
"I can assure you that we do want to help, Monica."
"Life is much more difficult when you spend it in a wheelchair, Harry, and only by being there would you understand."
"It is as you say, Monica, in that one can only experience by being part of the experience, and not only is that true of your case, but true of most situations. I certainly agree with your reasoning."
"You probably don't know how it feels to learn to get up on a table to exercise your bottom so that you don't become a complete bedsore, nor can you appreciate the art of dressing until you experience what I have been through. You have no idea how long it seems to take whenever I put on clothing."
“The manipulations I used to go through, which took only seconds, seem to drag on for minutes and minutes. The difficulty is accepting all the ways in which I must do things as opposed to the manner in which I used to accomplish them. Even going to the bathroom is more of a problem. There are accidents that a girl can have and not be able to do anything except take the lumps as they are thrown. Questions which I have asked not only God, but many others, have gone unanswered, many questions are unanswered. All the plans went down the drain along with all the hopes and ambitions which I set for myself."
"Did you hear the news the other night, Monica, about the guy on the old Brady Street Bridge, who, because of a loose girder, found himself stuck between two steel beams? I mean his legs were stuck. He spent three hours on the span while efforts to free him were expended, and then a decision was made, which he accepted, to amputate one of his legs. That fellow feels the way you do, Monica, because he went to work on that day and possibly never had any idea what the bridge held in store for him. Now he is minus one leg. He will have quite an adjustment period. I am happy to see he is alive."
"I watched some of that on television an it certainly was sad to see the problems that man faces. You are right, he will have some adjustment to make in his life, and I, too, am happy that he is alive. My problem is a little different though. I cannot walk at all, but maybe he can cope with his much better than some of us. In trying to understand why I did my bit the other day, Harry, you have to realize that I am a woman, maybe, rather half a woman."
"Now, come on, Monica, You are not half a woman."
"I suppose we could argue that point all day, Harry, and never solve the equation."
"You are an attractive woman, Monica, and someday some guy is going to come along and take you for what you are and not just because he feels sorry for you."
"That is it. Bob saw me for what I am and not anything else. I felt we would still continue to be in love even after he found out about my not being able to walk. Part of the fault was mine, because I didn't tell him soon after the accident that I couldn't walk and would never be able to, again. The doctor who attended me in the hospital wanted me to tell Bob and I agreed but never did do it soon enough. Like I said before, I always have a dream that I will wake up and be able to prance around just like before. But having those dreams can make one miserable and tough to live with."
"After Bob found out that I would not be able to walk again, he seemed to accept the fact, but I tried to make myself out the martyr and told him to buzz off and find some girl who could make him happy, because I certainly wouldn't be able to do all the things we had planned before I met the crippler. He told me it didn't matter, and he would wait until I shook off the after effects. But, because of my stupidity and anger with people, I told him off a number of times and I really can't blame him for the way he reacted. Saying that I wanted him to go and find another woman and stay with me at the same time is about the way I felt, which doesn't make any sense. Little wonder that Bob and my roommate Rose fell in love."
"Is that the reason for your attempting to end it all?"
"You could say that, although the way in which I found out about them to me, was disgusting. I saw them having sex in our apartment when they didn't know I was in the bedroom. I thought to myself how distasteful it was, her and Bob, together, and me not being able to hold onto the man I thought I loved. Hurting them had been on my mind all the time after that, and I don't know why I picked the drowning bit, but I figured I would show them and then they would think they were responsible for my drowning. Of course, deep down inside I hoped that someone would save me."
"I am glad that the people who saved you, Monica, were around. Now that we know, I know, why you reacted the way you did, maybe we can take care of the problem. There is probably nothing to be done about the love affair, Monica, so you will have to just grin and bear it, because that is the way it is going to fly. Tomorrow, I would like to show you a few things, Monica, which may have an effect on you, but promise me that you will never try to take your own life again and that if you feel you need help, come in and speak with me. My door is always open for problems."
He smiled at her.
"I promise, Harry, and now that I have told someone how I feel, life seems a whole lot better."
"Come on down about a quarter after four tomorrow and I will explore some subjects with you, Monica. See you then." She turned and headed for the door. "Until tomorrow, Harry."