Author's Note: Again, thanks for your reviews. I really appreciate them. Don't own anything but this story.
Episode 8: Reasons for Living
"Mrs. Higgins?" The maid called. She walked up the stairs toward the master bedroom. She knocked softly on the door.
"Mrs. Higgins? Breakfast is ready." She knocked on the door again. No response. She frowned.
"Mrs. Higgins?" She knocked harder on the door. Still no response. She started to get worried and banged on the door.
"Mrs. Higgins!" When she didn't get a response, she took out her keys and quickly unlocked the door. She gasped at what she saw. Prostrate across the bed was a woman in her thirties with raven black hair wearing a red sweater. She was clearly unconscious and beside her on the night-stand were a nearly empty bottle of aspirin and quarter full glass of scotch.
"Oh, my god." The maid ran quickly and looked at the bottle of pills. She ran over to the phone and began dialing.
"Yes, yes, this is Mabel at the Higgins Residence. Yes, I need an ambulance over right away. Mrs. Higgins has overdosed on aspirin. No, she's not conscious. Yes. Ok, please hurry! Please!" She hung up the phone quickly and sat beside the unconscious body. She sighed.
"You poor dear, I knew that he would do this to you."
Helga groaned as she hit the snooze button on her alarm clock. A few more minutes of sleep wouldn't hurt. Besides, she wouldn't have much to look forward to when she got up. It was the morning of her father's funeral. The rain was falling heavily outside and the dark gray clouds covered the sun. Helga rolled out of bed and walked over towards the window.
"Perfect." She sighed as she looked outside at the falling rain.
"Can you believe this weather?" Troy at the desk was complaining out loud to nobody.
"Well, we needed the rain. It hasn't rained in weeks." Phoebe replied matter of factly.
"Yeah, but I don't like it coming down at once. And I don't like the darkness."
"Just be glad you're in here and not out there."
"Tell me about it." She looked up to see Arnold taking a long drink at the water fountain.
"How much longer is your shift?" She walked next to him.
"I'm on for half an hour and then I'm done. Then, I'll take a nap for a few hours before going to the funeral."
"Oh, are you going with Helga?"
"Yeah, she needs someone right now so I told her that I'd go." Phoebe smiled.
"You want to leave now? I can cover for you."
"No, it's all right. My shift is almost over."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. I'm going to be in the lounge so if anything happens, let me know." He walked off in the direction of the lounge. He removed his stethoscope from around his neck and put on the table. He collapsed on the couch and propped his legs up on one of the arms.
"A short nap couldn't hurt." He closed his eyes and was just about to sleep when Nadine knocked on the door.
"Dr. Greene?" He sighed and turned around quickly.
"What is it Nadine?"
"We've got a woman coming in who OD'd on aspirin. She's unconscious, possibly a combination of aspirin and alcohol."
"Is Phoebe out there?"
"She got called into a meeting." Arnold sighed.
"How convenient." He rolled off the couch, grabbed his stethoscope, and walked quickly out the door.
Helga sipped her coffee and flipped aimlessly through the newspaper. She pushed aside the paper and sighed. She removed a small piece of paper from her pocket and read it over carefully. She still didn't know why Olga wanted her to deliver the eulogy. She kept telling her what a great writer she was and how she could find the right words. The problem was that words were just words. She folded the note and put it back in her pocket. It was 9 AM. Two more hours until the funeral.
"What's going on?" Arnold walked quickly towards the EMT's wheeling in the patient.
"OD on aspirin and alcohol, maid finds her passed out in her room half an hour ago." He stared hard at the patient. His eyes lit up in recognition.
"Rhonda?" He said to himself. The maid ran frantically beside him.
"Please, doctor. Please tell me that she is going to be all right."
"Well ma'am, it's good that you brought her in early. We're going to do everything we can. I promise." He turned to Nadine, who was also staring at Rhonda in shock.
"Ok, let's get some activated charcoal. IV fluids with sodium bicarbonate and glucose. Also let's get an ABG, CBC, electrolytes, prothrombin time, and chest and abdominal films." Nadine nodded and inserted the IV. She was about to walk off towards the elevator when Arnold put a hand on her shoulder.
"You all right, Nadine?"
"Yeah, I'm just still in shock."
"That's normal. How long has it been since you've talked to Rhonda?" She sighed.
"We haven't talked since she got married to Rex. That makes it about eight years, I guess."
"Well, I think that now would be a good time to start talking again." Nadine looked at Arnold with a solemn expression.
"Rhonda lives in her world, and I live in mine. That's how it's always been between us; to Rhonda, she was doing me a favor being my friend. She's Mrs. Rex Smythe-Higgins, society page debutante. I'm just Nadine, overworked, underpaid, emergency room nurse." Arnold sighed.
"Come on, Nadine, don't start that up again. You two have been friends since we were nine."
"It's just too awkward now."
"Just talk to her. She needs a friendly face now." She sighed.
"All-right. For old time's sake."
"Was that Rhonda Lloyd-Higgins who just came in?" Wartz stared incredulously at the print-out.
"One and the same." Phoebe replied dryly. Wartz shook his head.
"I still don't see what caused her to snap."
"Well, Vince, maybe she was in pain."
"You're rationalizing suicide?"
"I'm didn't say that it was right. I'm just saying that Rhonda's life isn't easy." Wartz suppressed a laugh.
"Are you kidding me? What part of her life is difficult? Too much time to go shopping? Missed ladies lunch at the country club? Give me a break, Phoebe."
"Rhonda's been depressed, Vince. Besides, her marriage with Rex has never been particularly enjoyable. Maybe he did something that pushed her over the edge. Anyway, it's not a healthy environment for her."
"The only sickness that Rhonda Lloyd-Higgins has is trophy wives' syndrome. Be happy that you don't have it yet, Phoebe." He turned around and walked off shaking his head and chuckling to himself. Phoebe stared at him and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, baby sister!" Olga ran over and hugged her sister tightly. Helga cringed at first but eventually gave in to the suffocating embrace. After a while, Olga released her hold.
"Did you finish writing it, Helga?"
"Yeah, it took me a while, but I got it done."
"That's great. I knew you'd find the right words." An awkward silence fell between them. Helga spoke up first.
"So where's Mir-, I mean, mom?"
"She's in the back." She paused. "It's been pretty hard on her."
"I can imagine." Silence again fell between them.
"Look, Helga, I realize that I haven't been the greatest sister." Helga fought the urge to smirk and remained silent. Olga turned to her with a pained expression.
"I know that we're really not that close. I really tried, Helga. I did. Even when you said I embarrassed you when I was substituting at P.S.118. I just wish things could have turned out differently." Helga turned towards her and gave her a small smile. A few years ago, she might have been sarcastic or unforgiving.
"It's all right, Olga. I mean you did try hard, sometimes too hard to make us close. It wasn't your fault that he never paid any attention to me."
"But it was, Helga. Even if I didn't intentionally steal attention from you, it still happened because of me."
"This is all in the past, Olga. Why are you bringing this up now?"
"I just wanted to do it before it was too late. Daddy never got to tell you how he really felt about you." Helga gently touched her sister's shoulder.
"Thanks." They embraced lightly.
"Now, let's go check on mom."
Arnold gently opened the door in the recovery room. Rhonda was resting quietly while the maid was sitting beside her. She looked up and smiled at Arnold.
"Mrs. Higgins, wake up. The doctor's here to see you." She gently shook Rhonda's arm. Rhonda opened her eyes. She blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes.
"Arnold?" He smiled at her.
"It's been a long time, Rhonda."
"I'm sorry you had to see me like this."
"Believe me; I've seen people in much worse shape."
"Did my husband call?"
"No, we've been trying to get in touch with him; so far no luck." She smirked.
"It figures." Arnold realized that he had touched upon a sensitive subject.
"Well, there is someone here to see you. Someone who I'm sure you'll be happy to see and whom you've known for a long time." She had a puzzled expression and Arnold beckoned towards the doorway. Nadine walked in. Rhonda's face lit up.
"Nadine? Nadine, it's good to see you." Nadine smiled.
"It's good to see you too, Rhonda."
"Come, sit down. We have a lot to catch up on." The maid whispered something in Rhonda's ear and walked out of the room. Arnold smiled at the scene and checked his watch. It was nearly eleven o'clock and he was almost late.
"Well, ladies, if you'll excuse me." He slipped quietly out of the room and hurried out.
"And now, Helga Pataki will deliver the eulogy." The priest walked away from the podium and gave Helga small smile of encouragement as she passed him on the way up. She swallowed nervously as she stared at the pews full of mourners. There were relatives she hadn't seen since she was a little girl. There were employees of his beeper store. Olga and Miriam were sitting in the front row along with her twin boys and her husband. She scanned the entire crowd, looking for him. He was late. She steadied herself with a deep breath.
"It wasn't easy for me to write this. We weren't very close, my father and I. In fact, there were times when I felt that our relationship was nonexistent. There were times when I wished that I wasn't a Pataki, that he wasn't my father." She paused before continuing.
"But I'm not here to analyze my relationship with my father. I'm here to celebrate his life and tell you all what he meant to us and what he meant to you." She blinked at these words. It was more awkward than normal. She was writing from the perspective of an outsider rather than as a grieving daughter. But that was who she was, an outsider. She continued quickly.
"Bob Pataki was a good man. He was a good husband to my mother. He was a successful businessman who started out with nothing and created one of the biggest beeper stores in the city. Most importantly, he was a good father to his daughter, Olga. He loved her, encouraged her, and gave her all the encouragement and confidence that she needed to achieve her dreams. With his support, Olga was able to pursue her dream of becoming a teacher and working with underprivileged children." She paused again to gather her thoughts. Suddenly, she crumbled up the paper and put it in her pocket. Her voice started to tremble and her eyes began to well with tears.
"However, I'm not going to stand up here and say that he was good father to me because he wasn't." The crowd gave a collective gasp and began looking at each other and whispering. Helga continued forcefully.
"There were times when he called me Olga instead of Helga. There were times when he ignored me. There were times when he made me feel that nothing I did could ever measure up to his standards. There were times when I wondered, and I still wonder if he ever loved me." She paused before continuing.
"Dostoyevsky said in The Brothers Karamazov that a beautiful, sacred memory preserved since childhood was the best education a person could get. I remember, one time when I was only nine, we had to spend a whole week together as part of having some quality time. We ended up seeing this horrible musical called Rats and spent the whole time laughing at how bad it was." She paused again. "And every time I questioned whether he even cared, I remembered that moment. That's what we're here for today, to remember a moment or moments when Bob Pataki touched our lives." She walked slowly down from podium and looked hard into the congregation. She still couldn't see him.
"You should quit smoking."
"It's not as if I haven't tried. Besides, it's the only thing keeping me sane." It had stopped raining momentarily. They were standing on the rooftop. Rhonda was smoking a cigarette while Nadine stared into the clouds.
"Rhonda, what happened?" Nadine stared at her seriously. Rhonda sighed.
"I don't know, Nadine. I guess it's just been building up for a while. Things weren't good from the start."
"You don't love Rex, do you?"
"No, I don't. I've tried to, but it just hasn't happened."
"So why did you marry him? You loved Harold, didn't you?"
"Of course I did. We were ready to get married. Then my parents stepped in." Nadine remained silent and Rhonda continued.
"They never liked Harold. They kept saying that he wasn't right for me, that we Lloyds didn't associate with people like him."
"So old money had to stick with old money." Nadine spoke quietly and gave Rhonda a knowing look.
"That's the gist of it." They were silent for a while. Rhonda knocked some ashes from her cigarette over the edge.
"Did you ever get that fashion gig?" Rhonda smirked.
"No, not even close. I guess that just confirmed that I was supposed to marry Rex and be another trophy on his mantel. A trophy wife that only has looks; in a few years I won't have that either."
"Don't say that, Rhonda."
"The truth hurts, doesn't it?"
"It's not true. You're a mature, independent woman. You don't need Rex or your parent's money. You can make it on your own."
"I'm glad someone thinks so." She smiled slightly at Nadine and threw away her cigarette. She took out her remaining pack of cigarettes and threw them away as well.
"That was a good start."
Helga stood silently at the burial plot. The last of the mourners were leaving after having paid their respects. She smiled and accepted their condolences in good faith. Olga stood up after kneeling in front of the tombstone and walked over towards Helga.
"Are you all-right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Are you going to come over for the reception?" Helga paused.
"I don't think so, Olga. I mean, no offense, but..."
"None taken, baby sister. Take as much time as you need." They hugged briefly and Olga walked towards her husband and children standing near the entrance gates. Helga was now alone with her father. She walked over and stood over him.
"Well, Bob. It's just you and me now." She paused before continuing.
"I bet you're disappointed that Olga didn't give your eulogy. It's not my fault that she wanted me to. I tried to give you the best one that I could." She paused and took another deep breath.
"We never understood each other did we? I mean, we were so much alike, but we just didn't connect." She walked over and placed a small rose on his tombstone.
"Here's to the day we finally do." She turned and walked slowly away from the grave. It was starting to rain again and she didn't have an umbrella. She quickened her pace and walked towards the gate when a shadowy figure from behind the tree stepped beside her and opened a large umbrella. She jumped back in surprise.
"You never seem to carry an umbrella, do you?" He smiled kindly at her.
"Crimeny, Arnold, you scared me to death!" She breathed a sigh of relief. He chuckled.
"Sorry about that. I just didn't want to disturb you when you were paying your respects." Helga noticed that he was wearing a long, black, trench coat.
"What's with the film noir get-up?" He smiled.
"It is a funeral, Helga."
"I know, but doesn't it kind of feel like a scene from a movie?"
"What do you mean?"
"Look at us; you're dressed like the Marlowe- detective type, and I guess I'm supposed to be this blond damsel in distress. It's dark and raining, and we're in a cemetery." He chuckled.
"You know, you're right. It's like The Big Sleep or The Long Goodbye. " They walked towards the gate.
"Are you going to your sister's place?"
"No, I don't think so." They stood silently for a while. Arnold spoke first.
"You know, Helga that was a really brave thing you did up there."
"You really think so?"
"I do. I'm sure your father's proud that you painted an honest picture. Most eulogies make the dead seem like saints." The rain began to subside and the clouds started breaking.
"It stopped raining."
"I noticed." Arnold turned to her.
"So what happens to Marlowe and the women?"
"Well, he usually buys them drinks; gimlets to be specific." Arnold laughed.
"It's kind of early for gimlets. How about coffee?"
"I'd like that, football-head."
"Hey, I thought I was Marlowe."
"You wish you were."
"Hey, I've solved my share of mysteries. Remember how I proved that Eugene was framed?" She laughed.
"Yeah. Pretty impressive." She tried not to laugh.
"I'm serious." They continued walking.
"You haven't solved the biggest mystery yet." She said quietly to herself.