Club Mad

Dr. Sam McIntyre steps out of the elevator early in the morning at the Robert E. Walden Institute. He is six feet, four inches, black hair, blue-eyes and lean. He walks to the nurses’ station. Carol, a pretty Chinese Psych R.N., is at the desk.

Sam asks with a friendly voice, “Hi, Carol. How are things--pretty quiet?”

Carol looks up sleepily and smiles. “Hi, Sam. Things are okay and I’m out of here in half an hour. That is, if the next shift decides to be on time.” She pauses. “It’s sort of early for you isn’t it?”

“Sort of.”

“Weren’t you out on a hot date late last night?” Carol asks teasingly.

Sam smirks, “It wasn’t a hot date; it was a blind date Dr. Erikson talked me into.”

Laughing, Carol says, “If you weren’t such a workaholic, I’d give you a chance.”

Winking at Carol, “Your husband keeps telling me that you’re way too good for me.”

She is still smiling. “He’s right,” she stops. “I suppose you got a call from your service about the new patient that came in last night.”

Sam looks for the new patient’s chart. “Yep.”

“Gee, the great Dr. Sam McIntyre doesn’t often do the grunt work. Did you run out of residents to torture?” Sam smiles at Carol and she continues, “Do you know why you’ve been assigned?”

“I decided to take this one. There weren’t any problems were there?”

“She’s been very quiet. But she hasn’t gotten any sleep, and there were no orders for meds,” Carol said. “She’s been sitting and writing or looking out of the Dayroom window most of the night.”

Sam looks up from her chart. “What room is she assigned to?”

“457.” Sam starts to turn in that direction. “But you won’t find her there. She’s still in the Dayroom.”

Sam takes the chart and walks away from the desk. “Thanks, Carol.”

Sam enters the Dayroom and stops just inside the door. Acelyn is standing tall and straight; she is five feet four inches tall, looking out the window, her back to the room. Sam watches her. The morning sun streams in. Acelyn has long strawberry blonde hair that falls straight and thick to her waist. She is about 35. She is wearing a crisp white cotton nightgown.

The room is simple. There are several couches near the walls and several tables with chairs scattered about. An old upright piano is against one wall. The room is empty, except for Acelyn. There are iron bars over heavy screens on the windows.

Sam looks from the chart to Acelyn. Just at that moment the sun shifts and fills the room. Sam can see her form silhouetted through her gown. He catches himself looking at her, then looks back at the chart. Sam slowly walks up behind her. He softly calls her name. Acelyn doesn’t stir. Sam sees a notebook lying on the window sill. Acelyn’s hand is resting on the book. Sam is drawn to her long slender fingers.