He hated waiting in that office. It smelled of industrial sized air freshener, some flowery-citrusy scent that made his stomach turn. There was always moder jazz playing, grinding at his nerves and the magazines were all women's or parenting ones. He tossed one aside after one look. "50 New Sex Moves That He'll Love!"
Please. As if a magazine could really know.
"Peter. Doctor Merrit will see you now," the receptionist said, blushing a bit as they made eye contact. She was pretty and young, maybe 3 years his senior at most. He had no interest in her, but he always made sure to compliment her blouse or something when he came in. Then she tended to give him preference in his appointments.
He walked back and into the office, closing the door behind him and sitting in the leather arm chair he always sat in. The same armchair he had sat in for the past 5 years.
"Ah, Pete. Good to see you," Dr. Merrit said, turning in his computer chair, "I suppose your mother finally convinced you to come back. How long has it been, 2 months?"
"Of course she convinced me. It's this or she stops paying for my schooling," he responded. Dr. Merrit wrote, god how he hated the writing.
"I see," Dr. Merrit said easily, "Now tell me, Pete. Have you been dreaming of Narnia still?"
"My name is Peter," he replied through gritted teeth, "And no. I can't dream when you have me on this damn medication."
"That's good, Peter," he said, his fingers steepling beneath his chin, "This is progress. The dreams have stopped with the aid of the medication. Your mother also said you only had one outburst when you were home for the holidays. She said that Lucy seemed to have triggered it?"
"My mother calls it an outburst when I defend my little sister's sanity," he said coldly. Dr, Merrit pulled off his glasses, rubbing his eyes.
"She said that you had tried speaking to her of this "Narnia" in private," he said, "And that when Lucy denied it, you verbally attacked your mother."
"Lucy denied it because she's afraid of being in trouble!" he spat, "She doesn't want to be like me, the pariah. Edmund is the smartest out of all of us. As soon as Mum started saying about shrinks and doctors, he never spoke of it again."
"Because he realized how unhealthy it was. Peter, you're a twenty three year old man who believes in a magic land in a wardrobe ruled by a talking lion. That is not psychologically healthy."
Peter folded his hands in his lap, sullenly silent. He didn't want to talk about it anymore.
"Your mother called with some concern about another situation," Dr. Merrit said, looking over his notes, "She said that you and your sister seem to have some odd tension between the two of you."
"Me and Lucy get along very well," he replied curtly.
"Not with Lucy, with Susan."
"I don't want to talk about Susan."
"Fine," Merrit said, holding up his hands in surrender, "Your mother says that you got to church quite a lot. She said you go to every service they offer- adding up to five days a week?"
"I feel closer to Aslan there," he said quietly.
"Aslan?"
"The talking lion," he sneered, "The one who doesn't exist."
"Have you ever considered that Aslan is your way of coping with the lack of a father figure in your life?" Merrit asked, "I mean, your stepfather has never been consistent; between his service and his teaching and not having your birth father around; it's natural to cling to an all seeing father figure. You chose this lion you call Aslan. Most people choose to cling to God."
"How do you know Aslan isn't God?" he demanded, "Oh wait, that's right. Me and my siblings just happened to have a shared hallucination."
"No, you and Lucy share similar features in your delusions. Susan and Edmund have never showed signs of the same affliction."
"Susan can't remember. It hurts her because she knows she isn't allowed to go back," he replied, "And Edmund remembers. Like I said- he's just smart enough to never say anything unless he's sure no one is listening."
"Why isn't Susan allowed back in Narnia, Peter?" he asked, looking deeply interested.
"Neither of us are. Aslan said that we both learned what we had to learn there," he replied, his voice low, "And then I heard Aslan in my sleep. She's no longer a friend to Narnia."
"Why isn't she a friend to Narnia?"
"I don't know," he snapped, "Maybe because she's so interested in her make-up and idiot boys and parties."
"Because she's a sinner?"
"I never said that," he said, glaring at him.
"So sinners aren't allowed in Narnia," he said, "Tell me, Peter. Are you a sinner? Why is it that only you and Susan have been "banished"?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he repeated. Dr. Merrit sighed, looking up at the clock and back to him, "Well, our time is up for today. How does next week sound, same time?" he asked, holding out a card. Peter took it, snorting. "It's been a jolly good time, Doc."