20. Scars
Sailor Raspberry
567 Words
Mamoru reclined into the chair, movements awkward and eyes nervous. His therapist, whom he hasn't visited since last June, sat across from him, legs crossed.
"So, Mr. Chiba," he began, coughing slightly. "I see that you have requested a visit. Though, you didn't state why over the phone. Would you care to explain?"
He scratched at his head, avoiding the doctor's gaze. Suddenly, he regretted coming. "I think I changed my mind. I don't really need to be here. Sorry for wasting your time." Mamoru made a move to scurry from the chair, but the hoarse sound of someone clearing his throat stopped him.
"Sit please, Mamoru-kun."
He obeyed, flopping back down and shifting uneasily.
The therapist flipped through his clipboard, before unhooking a stack of paper. "Let's just start with a few exercises, okay?" He revealed the first sheet. "These are inkblots. All you have to simply do is tell me what you see."
Mamoru nodded, entwining his fingers and chewing on his cheek for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he studied the picture. "It's a... a..." he paused, stunned, as the black ink shifted, until all he saw was the perky face of Usagi. He blinked hard, swallowed back the lump in his throat. "It's a picnic basket," he mumbled through dry lips. "You know, the one you use when you're on a picnic?"
"Mhm," the doctor scribbled something down. "How about this, then?"
He inhaled deeply, dared to look at the paper. Usagi smiled back at him, eyes twinkling.
"Okay," he breathed, reaching over and snatching the papers from the doctor. Little Usagi's were sent tumbling to the floor. "Doc, listen, I think I'm scarred."
"Scarred?" He adjusted his spectacles, poised his pen against a pad of paper. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"Well, you see, there's this girl... klutzy as can be... and I think she did something to me. Like, whenever I see her, my heart beats faster. And all I can think about is her smile, her eyes, the way her cheeks turn red when she's angry..." He paused, clucked his tongue for a minute. Then suddenly, he jumped to the edge of the seat. "My theory is that she performed some sort of black magic on me. She's bewitched me until all I can think about is her. And I don't think I can handle it, because every time she's near me, all I can smell is strawberries, and all I can see is her golden hair, her legs, her body, her, her, her!" He jumped up. "And no matter what I do, I can't get rid of her! She's always there, even when she isn't. She's like a bad habit, Doc! She's a witch! I bet I even have a scar where she injected me with her evil potions!" Mamoru began pacing, arms knotted behind his back. "I bet I've got tons of scars! A load of them from where she poisoned me! Oh my god! What am I doing here? I have to report this to the police!"
The doctor laughed, cutting off Mamoru's rambling. Pushing his clipboard onto his desk, he motioned for the patient to sit back down. Smiling, he said, "I don't think she's scarred you with magic, Mamoru. In fact, I don't think she has anything to do with your problem." He stopped and patted Mamoru's knee. "Congratulations kid, you've fallen in love."