Photo by Erik Odiin on Unsplash
It’s half an hour until wine time on Saturday afternoon and I’m in the sunroom desperate to finish the last few pages of Liane Moriarity’s The Hypnotist’s Love Story.
I’ve loved this book. Learned from it, too.
In fact, I plan to hypnotize Robert tonight when we go to bed. My goal is to convince him to rub my feet. They’re hideous, and I’ve seen pedicurists blanch at the sight of my misshapen toes and multiple missing nails, but still.
Diamonds and foot rubs are a girl’s best friends.
I’m so absorbed, I hear nothing. See nothing but the words on the page. I’ve got to get to the end before I’m late for cocktail hour and Robert starts wondering if I’m running a fever.
I flip to the second to last page barely able to breathe. Here it comes, the finale, the answer to my many questions. But suddenly, the sound of scuffling interrupts my reverie.
I turn and behind me, on the lanai, are my neighbors Chris and Charity.
Charity looks startled. Chris is staring intently into the backyard. I wave for them to come in, but they stand there.
No one moves so I step outside.
“What’s up?” I ask, as their 16-year-old son Joel rounds the corner and announces, “Mr. McCord just texted that there’s a bear by the pool!”
How can there be a bear by the pool? The backyard is completely fenced in.
But if there is a bear by the pool, this could be the perfect opportunity to try my new hypnotherapy skills!
I could put the bear in a trance!
We could shoot it with a tranquilizer dart — surely somebody around here has a tranquilizer dart!
And then the authorities could come and take the bear home to, well, wherever the bear lives!
I’m clutching my book to my chest, completely absorbed in my brilliant idea, when suddenly it dawns on me: I should be worried about Robert — aka Mr. McCord. He’s at the pool with a bear!
Me: Is Robert ok?
Chris and Charity say nothing. Joel shrugs.
Me: Ok, here’s the plan. I’m going to hypnotize the bear —
Joel, cutting me off: Hypnotize the —
Me, holding out the book: Yes. I read this book. I can do it!
The three of them look at me like I launched into wine time early.
Me, looking at Chris: Once the bear is in a trance, we’re going to need a tranquilizer dart. Who’s got one?
Charity, giving me the fish-eye: A tranquilizer dart? and then, turning to Chris: Give me that phone!
Chris hands over his phone.
Charity looks at it once, then twice, and laughs.
“Chris,” she says, “there’s beer by the pool! Beer, not bear!”
“Oops. Read it too fast,” Chris smiles sheepishly.
“He’s dyslexic,” Charity offers.
“I’m disappointed,” I confess.
Chris and Joel look at me like are you kidding? and take off to the pool.
“That book’s gone to your head,” Charity says when they’re out of earshot.
“Yeah well, I was hoping it would go to my feet,” I reply.
“Not gonna happen,” she laughs, knowing immediately what I had in mind.
She was there when the pedicurist saw my feet and they practically had to call the paramedics.
“You’re gonna need a whole lot more than hypnotism to get Rob to rub those puppies!”
A girl can dream, right?
And a girl can go finish her book. Which is what I did, snapping it closed just as Robert got out the corkscrew.
Crazy as it sounds, I’d still like to test my hypnotherapy skills.
And I know a lovely but traumatized nail tech who might even let me.