Olga Kholodova
© Olga Kholodova, 2016
© Olga Kholodova, illustrations, 2016
ISBN 978-5-4483-2401-7
Created with intellectual publishing system Ridero
Broken moon
Having remained abroad consciousnesses, the person has a rest. He is not concerned by daily burdens of life. The person is balanced and quiet. He sleeps.
1
The cigarette stub slowly smoldered in an ashtray, and its smoke, was divided into parts, getting to the morning beams of the sun sliping through bluish blinds of a window. The chamber was painted in white color, and furniture: a table, a chair, a bed and a case – added a blueness droplet to this cool atmosphere. Near an ashtray on a table lay: a pencil and album sheets on which various sketches of the sick artist were visible.
Robert lay on a bed and indifferently looked in a ceiling. He moved lips, and tried to tell something. The face of the guy was sad and gloomy, and blue of his bottomless eyes attracted and bewitched. What he thought of? What wanted to tell? Unfortunately nobody knew and even guessed what Robert wanted to tell. The guy was brought to psychiatric clinic when he hardly was eighteen years old. Now to Robert already thirty. The tall fair-haired person with expressive features and the obscured eyes seemed silly and helpless.
In chamber Robert lay one. In this regard his communication was limited to a negligent view of patients in the dining room or in the room during visit of the doctor and nurses.
Robert’s life passed measuredly, despite his illness which doctors could not establish therefore called it just “Hopelessness”. Many doctors tried to cure the guy, but their attempts were vain. After treatment he still not movably sat in a chair and stupidly looked out of the window, causing thereby pity and disappointment.
The last professor Frederick Austen got down to business and began to treat the guy. Only later few weeks he was undeceived in a victory over Robert’s illness and lowered his hands.
“It is hopeless,” professor told, “In vain we torment him.”
“You are mistaken professor,” the nurse Abilene responded, “his can be to cure. You only look what beautiful he draws pictures.”
The girl put a pack of album sheets on a table of professor and she stepped aside. Frederick approached a table and took the drawings into their own hands. Carefully examined them, he said, “Drawings as drawings. What in them special? The woods, mountains, settlements usual imaginations of the schizophrenic.”
“I ask you not to speak so rudely about the wonderful drawings,” said Abilene and took the sketches.
“Abilene, why you so zealously protect this patient? He’s no different from other mentally ill,” asked the Professor.
“Excuse me, Frederick for honesty, but I never divided patients on any signs therefore for me all patients of our clinic to a greater or lesser extent differ from each other including Robert,” the nurse objected.
“Well, of course,” professor maliciously smiled and told, “Unlike Robert they can be cured and we will not be more about it.”
“Yes as you can,” Abilene rebelled and pressed sketches to a breast.
“Abilene, do not worry so strongly. We will cure your ward,” professor said, “in the end of the ends, I am a professor.”
“Others too so spoke and that,” the nurse mistrustfully responded and added, “chatterboxes!”
“They spoke, and I will cure!” professor told and left an office.
Abilene went to the chair on which sat Robert and helped him stand up. Then she took the guy’s hand and led him into the room.
Frederick was not the high growth and pleasant Slavic appearance. And though the Professor was by no means a young man, however, always tried to keep up with the times, regardless of the kind of existing priorities and traditions, observing that nurses often put him in his place, reminding him that he is no longer young. As a rule, Frederick with them agreed and tried to delay the sharp jokes on more suitable case and in the presence of young employees.
Professor was a resolute person and, having set a goal, almost always achieved the maximum result. Frederick’s character was appeasable, thoughts are pure, and jokes are harmless. And although he seemed naïve, many were wrong, believing him to be stupid. Professor was itself canny and was able to apply strong lines of the character when it was, in his opinion it is necessary, and he in turn extremely seldom was mistaken.
“To cure the patient,” Reflecting, walked down the corridor of the clinic Professor, “A common thing. It still young. Let’s cure!”
There were days, weeks, months, but the result was the same, as before treatment. Professor tried all means what were only known to medicine, but changes in a condition of the patient were not observed.
“How to cure it?” professor in increasing frequency wondered. He understood that the answer to this question cannot be found. Frederick wandered around the office from morning to evening and experienced a terrible disappointment, because could not find a way to cure Robert.
What concerned Abilene, she still for a minute did not doubt that Robert can be cured and she tried to help professor somehow. Once again at visit of the guy she saw a habitual picture. Robert sat at a table, and drew something on an album leaf, at the same time he did not even look at a sheet of paper. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving under the pressure of the discharged air from his mouth. The nurse did not attach any importance to it, because she thought that Robert just got used to the familiar movements of hands and at the subconscious level draws pictures from the imagination.
Abilene worked in clinic the third year and became attached to Robert enough. He became the girl as the brother about which she cared more than about other patients. Abilene was sorry for him and hurt that she met Robert in the clinic, not in a Park or alley. She was the full nice girl. Her brown eyes seemed black and mysterious. Why is she tied to Robert she didn’t understand – maybe out of pity or love, which would be entirely unnecessary? Abilene has already been got married and gave birth to a beautiful daughter Pauline. The girl often helped mother at work and dreamed to become the psychologist.
“Robert,” Abilene told and slowly put a hand on his shoulder.
He sat not movably and continued to draw. His blond locks of hair slightly covering her face.
“What do you draw?” the girl asked.
Robert continued to draw and did not react to her question in any way.
“What a beautiful landscape,” estimating drawing, Abilene said, “And why near the sun the moon? Also does not happen!”
The nurse attentively looked at Robert and again turned a look on drawing.
“Moon! What is with it? Why it is split into pieces? Why?” Abilene asked.
She got all drawings from Robert’s table and began to consider them.
“How it can be? In all drawings the split moon! Why we’ve not noticed? For certain it has to speak about something and to mean something!” literally Abilene cried out. She took drawings, left the room and went to the office of the Professor.
When Abilene entered the office she discovered that the Professor sleeps. Without making a sound, she approached him and said quietly, “Professor, you sleep?”
“A? What? What time is it now?” asked Frederick and rubbed eyes.
“Already half of the third!” Abilene answered, “The lunch ended long ago, and all of you sleep!”
“I? Yes you that! I’m a little thought!” Justifying oneself, professor told, “You something wanted?”
“And you as think? Really I am similar to an alarm clock and came only in order that to wake you!” Abilene said and slyly smiled.
Frederick