Session Seven:
Mequi sat quietly in his seat, staring vaguely out the window as cherry blossom petals drifted down like pink snow. Just as the petals drifted so did his mind. He could not focus. He had canceled all of his appointments for the day. The only that he had permitted to visit was Chance. He knew he had to keep Chance coming every week.
Sighing sadly, he let his eyes close. He hated his black suit. His brown one or his gray one were much better in his mind, but the black one always made him depressed. Today, he was especially depressed. He did not like wearing this suit to begin with, but hated that he had to wear it for this particular occasion.
“Mequi.” Chance’s voice caused Mequi’s eyes to slide open, but even the sight of his favorite person did not make Mequi’s mood change in the least bit. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Mequi murmured as he stared into the wavering eyes of Chance. “Please, take a seat.”
“Did you…” Chance hesitantly spoke as he sat down. He wore a yellow, navy blue, and white basketball uniform and his hair had been done into a ponytail. Sweat still ran down his skin. “Did you call Vienza?”
“Did you know?” Mequi asked, his voice choked. “Did you know?”
“I knew afterwards.” Chance murmured. “That’s why, I think, I felt an urgency. I’m sorry.”
“No.” Mequi sighed slowly. “Don’t be. He was glad to get a chance to talk to me. He was impressed with how well my life turned out, but also sad that it turned out as bad as it did…he sounded so frail…to hear his voice like that…I could not even get to his house in time…”
Mequi swallowed hard, his throat thick. Even though he tried his hardest to keep it at bay, a tear still escaped down his cheek.
“The funeral was pretty.” Mequi whispered, his eyes moist as he looked back out the window. “It was the perfect time of year for it too…God…I just can’t believe he’s dead.”
Chance furrowed his brows as he looked at his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Who would have known that leukemia would kill him?” Mequi could feel himself choking up on his words. “But, I guess, that could happen to anyone…maybe, even me…”
“Mequi…” Chance timidly looked back up at Mequi. “Are you…do you want me to…”
“The funeral was today.” Mequi sighed, returning his gaze to Chance. “I’m sorry. I just came from it a couple of hours ago and I’ve been sitting here brooding over it since. I apologize if I’m emotional…”
Chance stood and went to Mequi’s side. Hesitantly, he put his arms around the man and embraced him. Mequi’s heart sped up instantly as his face was buried into Chance’s chest, but he could hear that Chance’s heart was racing faster than his own. Uncertainly, he put his own arms around the young man and then his grip tightened.
“I’m sorry.” Chance’s tears came freely as he did not try to chain them. “I’m sorry! This is all my fault!”
“No!” Mequi shoved the young man to arm’s length. “No! If you had not been here than I would never have called him and he would have died without ever knowing what I thought of him!”
Confusion played through Mequi’s mind a moment later, his eyes darkened and his mind blank save for the warmth and heart-throbbing that pulsated through him. Heat surrounded him, soothing him, and something seemed to fill him with a new and reviving feeling.
Then he was opening his eyes.
“Mequi…” Chance whispered, his cheeks a brilliant red. “What the hell…”
The therapist’s heart jumped up into his throat as he suddenly realized what had just happened.
“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!” Mequi yelped, his hands releasing Chance and his body trembling as his cheeks lit with embarrassment. “Sumimasen! Sumimasen! Watashi wa…uh…I…I’m so sorry!”
“Shut up.” Chance laughed partially. “It’s my fault. I hugged you.”
“But I kissed you!” Mequi’s throat felt thicker then as realization truly struck him. “I’m so sorry!”
Chance sighed as he sat down on the coffee table in front of the therapist. “Forget it already. Do you want me to continue from last week?”
Mequi ran his trembling hands through his hair. “Chance…tell me…how did you know that Vienza had died?”
“I saw it in the papers.” Chance replied with a smile. “And, no, I didn’t take a trip back into your past. I only know up until the day before I called you for therapy. Worst of all, I only know what happens in your life and what you know. I didn’t even know what was going on with Vienza at the same time as you were growing up…I’m sorry…if I had known…I would have told you.”
“It’s all right.” Mequi sighed. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wouldn’t have called him. It would have hurt too much. Please, continue.”
Chance swallowed hard as he moved to the couch and lied down on it. “Um…well, I left off with Vienza walking out the door and you telling your parents that you hated them…after that your relationship with them completely disintegrated. You obeyed, but you felt no love towards them and they failed to show any more affection towards you. It was as if you and your parents were complete strangers…and the gap between you and them only grew as you grew older…life with Mr. Jim Burkhart as your teacher was dry…”
~~*~~
“Turn to page forty-two of your arithmetic book.” Jim ordered in an empty desert-like tone. His beady-black eyes peered down at Mequi as if he was a lesser being as the boy did as he was told.
Mr. Burkhart had a rectangular face with wrinkles that made him look lumpy. His nose was the size of a baseball and his hair was merely a few frazzled white strands upon his balding head. Still, though he lacked his youthful hair, it was obvious that the hair had merely migrated to the man’s eyebrows, which were as bushy as fox tails and as white as dandruff. His face was contorted into a consistent frown that made Mequi want to jump up and grab the man’s cheeks in order to force him to smile, but he could only sit there and do what Jim asked of him.
Silently, he thought back to when Vienza had taught him. He remembered that, though strict, the man would always make sure that Mequi was enjoying his studies and also ensured that the boy was not suffering from pure boredom.
Mr. Burkhart was determined to kill Mequi with boredom.
I wonder if anyone has ever died from boredom? Mequi thought as he began to write down the problems that Mr. Burkhart wanted him to look over.
Abruptly, Mequi’s thoughts reverted over to his father. A year and a half had passed since he had sent his father a thank you letter for his Christmas present and he had never heard a reply. He wanted to get in contact with his father and talk to him, but he knew that both Barbara and John were against it and he also knew that his father lived in Japan so the chances of “accidentally” meeting him were so slim that he knew it was impossible.
Tears began to fill the boy’s eyes, but he blinked them away. He had to focus on his work. If he focused on his schoolwork than he would not think about the painful things, like Vienza and Tohru.
~~*~~
A knock sounded on the door and Mequi perked up.
“Come in!” He called as he stood, wishing they had not been interrupted.
The door opened and the landlord peeked in. “Mequi, go home.”
“I have a client.” Mequi stated, motioning towards Chance.
The landlord glanced at the young man and frowned slightly. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi.” Chance greeted as cheerfully as he could, but it was obvious that the man did not like him in the least bit. “I’m Chance Kelly.”
“I know.” The landlord half-growled, half-snorted. “I’ve heard about you from some people around here. Okay, go home when you can, Mequi.”
With that, the man shut the door.
“Who was that?” Chance asked, his voice curious and his eyes genuine.
“That’s my landlord, Quentin West.” Mequi replied as he shoved himself into his seat. “He’s a crotchety old man who worries too much about others. He always takes everything to the next level even on a tiny bit of fact.”
Mequi’s brows pinched as he looked at Chance with sudden confusion. “But I’m surprised you don’t know who he is. If you know all about my past up to the point of before you called me then you should know who he is.”
Chance thought about that for a moment. “No, because your landlord was originally Sean Pastor, but he had been talking about passing that on, remember?”
“And that happened after you called me.” Mequi suddenly put in. “Right. You have a better memory of life than I do!”
“That’s okay.” Chance let out a sigh. “You’ve been stressed lately.”
“Yeah…” Mequi also sighed and then looked at the sorrowful look upon Chance’s face. “How’s your life been?”
“Busy.” Chance murmured, staring down at the ground. “After “living” your life, coming to my own hectic one was really difficult. It’s taking me time to get up to speed.”
“Ah…” Mequi smiled slightly. “So, you really don’t remember much about your life, do you?”
“I’m remembering more as time goes along.” Chance grinned broadly as he stared into Mequi’s eyes. “I’m getting better.”
“That’s good.” Mequi was shocked with the earnest interest in his voice. He had never really cared so much about someone before…not since…
“I should go.” Chance sighed as he stood. “My time is up anyway…”
“Already?” Mequi stood quickly, glancing at the time to find Chance’s statement true.
“Were you enjoying yourself so much…” Chance asked in a slight hush. “That the time drifted faster than you expected?”
Mequi’s heart began to race at Chance’s words as he stared into the porcelain features of the young man. He had never felt so strange before.
“Chance…” Mequi whispered. “I…”
Chance started towards the door. “I know! I know! Talk to you soon, Mequi!”
“Chance!” Mequi yelped, but Chance had already disappeared through the door.
Self-hate filled Mequi’s chest as he realized that he had looked down a mere second before Chance had started through the doorway. He had refused to look at the sight of Chance leaving him through a doorway.
“I’m not over Vienza…” He whispered to himself. “I’ll never be over Vienza…”