Lisa settled herself in the city where she rented a small apartment and worked freelance as a seamstress. She reported her new address to the police in case of need and continued to patiently hope she would one day meet the man whose life she had saved.
One evening she was walking home just as darkness was closing in and a fog was developing. She had delivered five wedding dresses she had made from instructions and patterns of a designer she worked for. She used taxi to hand in the dresses and was given a small partial payment on the spot, the remainder owing her to be received when the dresses sold, an honest arrangement because the designer worked on consignment. In a few days time the designer would have more patterns ready for her and the material from which to craft them. The actual sewing, Lisa did at home. She passed a grocery store and went inside to buy a few items for dinner. On her way out, she passed by a woman, approximately Lisa's age, hunched on the sidewalk with her face down and her hand out. Lisa put the change she received from the grocer into the woman's hand. Then Lisa just remembered something else she wanted to buy and went back inside. When she came out again, the beggar was no longer there but as Lisa continued her walk home, she noticed the woman walking a few meters ahead of her amongst the pedestrians. Lisa saw the woman give money to another beggar who was also with hand out as she passed by. The crowd was thinning as Lisa and the woman ahead of her approached a high bridge that crossed over to the other side of the urban valley. The woman's pace quickened as though she had come to a decision. The fog was heavy now. The woman stopped center bridge and climbed over the railing in order to jump. Lisa suddenly stopped and in that moment a stray dog crossed the road surprising a motorcyclist who skidded to avoid it and fell to one side. The skidding motorcycle hit the side of Lisa and she fell, spilling all the groceries. Other than bad bruises, the motorcyclist was well enough to get back on the motorbike and drove away, not even noticing Lisa. Hearing the screech, the woman who was going to jump turned and saw what happened. The woman heard Lisa call for help so she climbed back over the railing and rushed to Lisa's aid. The woman helped Lisa stand up but Lisa could barely walk. The woman gathered the fallen groceries and put them back in the cloth bag Lisa was carrying.
"Please help me home," Lisa asked and the woman agreed. When they arrived at Lisa's apartment, Lisa said, "I know who you are - you are the woman who was going to fall from the bridge. If you can, could you stay with me tonight to help me?" The woman had no where to go and usually slept on the street, so she agreed, whispering quietly. The little stray dog followed them to Lisa's apartment.
The woman supported Lisa and settled her on the couch with her sore leg up. The dog followed them in as though it belonged there.
"Please make us both some tea and toast and give the doggie some water," Lisa said and the woman obliged.
As they finished drinking, Lisa asked, "What's your name?"
"Coreen," the woman responded leaning downwards as though fearful of Lisa's thoughtful gaze. They put their cups down on the coffee table. The couch was a three-seater and Coreen sat at the other end from Lisa because there was no where else to sit in that room. Lisa let her sore leg drift gently to the floor as she reached forward and took Coreen's hand, saying, "Come closer to me please." Coreen did so, still not looking face-on towards Lisa.
Lisa continued speaking, "Why were you going to jump? There is nothing to be ashamed of in that, if anything it shows you are not afraid of death. I'm grateful you saved my life. Without you I would probably have died on the road in that fog by being run over again. Allow me to help you."
Coreen replied, "I have been told that I have some kind of mental disease, that there is something wrong with my brain that causes me to lose memory. I have been told that it has happened at least twice. But a memory came back to me a couple days ago. I remembered my children and not the children I have, whom I am not permitted to care for because of this mental deficiency. The memory came with such pain and guilt, a horrible guilt that I am somehow the fault of everything bad. I know that is an illogical, crazy conviction, so I haven't told anyone in my family about it, least of all my husband. An impulse is surfacing in my awareness, to tell you though."
