The following story is for adults only.
Chapter Two – In Her Own Words
(The following is transcribed verbatim from tape. I have added my own observations, as well as my own voice from the transcription, in parentheses.)
(When I returned, she was studying the titles of the books in one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. "Here's the tea," I said)
If there was a fire, and you only had enough time to save one of these books, which one would it be?
(The question caught me entirely off guard, but I answered honestly. "This one." I took down the autographed copy of James Thurber's "Carnival" and handed it to her. She'd obviously never seen the book before, thumbed through it for a minute or two and smiled at a couple of the cartoons. The first intimacy between us was a literary one.)
I wanted to talk to you today after class.
("I know. I wanted to talk to you, too." 30-second pause as we sat down and sipped our tea.)
I don't know if you noticed that I dressed a little differently today ... (Pause as she took in my smiling nod). This was the next-to-last class in the course, and I was hoping you'd ask me out. My suite-mates and I had a little too much to drink last night, and ....
("Suite-mates?")
In the dorm. There are four bedrooms around a living area. Eight of us in a suite. Evelyn got a case of beer from a guy she's dating who owns a store. We were drinking and talking, and they were kidding me because I never date anyone. Well, I told them there was this guy in my writing class I was hoping would ask me out, and they sort of turned the whole evening into a "let's dress up Brenda" project. Sue did my hair, the skirt and blouse are from Tommi, Jill lent me one of her bras. You know. (A shrug.) At any rate, this morning they all put on the finishing touches and pushed me out the door.
But before I could get a chance to say hi to you, Bill Thornegate started talking to me, and I didn't know how to end the conversation without seeming rude. Then, after class, James Briggs started talking to me before I could walk over to you. It infuriated me. I couldn't believe it when I saw you walking away! I called after you, but I guess you didn't hear me.
("No, I'm sorry. I didn't. I wish I had.")
Well, I guess I was a little rude with James then. It just made me so mad! I told him no, I didn't want out with him! And then, while I was standing there ready to cry, Bill came back up to me and asked me if I wanted to go get some lunch. I was standing on the steps of the Lit building, looking across the street at the Pink Pig Diner, and I made up a lie. I told him that I already had a lunch date, and I turned my back on him and walked over and right into the diner.
I felt miserable. I didn't know what I was going to tell the other girls, and I knew they were going to give me the third-degree. I really just wanted to be alone, so I walked all the way to the back of the dining area and sat down in a booth facing the wall. I ordered a Diet Coke, and just sat there. But not much more than a few minutes had gone by before HE was there.
He seemed polite enough. He asked if he could sit with me, but before I could respond, he'd slid into the seat opposite me. He had a cup of coffee. He reached his hand across the table to shake, and I just instinctively shook it while he introduced himself. He said he was "Menlo the Great." (Pause as she thought a moment.) Come to think of it, I didn't know his first name until he introduced himself to you here. I longed to tell him that I wanted to be alone, but he never gave me a chance ... he talked constantly, never pausing, unless he'd asked me a question. I felt very uncomfortable at first. I mean, he was a stranger; and he was a lot older than I am. In his thirties, I'd guess.
(I didn't interrupt to tell her that I was in MY thirties.)
He told me he was a professional hypnotist, and I guess I was a little interested in that, despite myself. He talked on a little about his act at the Student Center Theater, and how it was a little unpredictable being on stage with a bunch of college students, because they could be sort of impulsive. He paused then, and I asked him if he'd ever had anyone on his stage he couldn't hypnotize. I think it's what he wanted me to ask, because he seemed to relax then, and he spoke as if he was lecturing a student. I couldn't believe I'd encouraged him to get into a more intimate conversation, when what I really wanted him to do was leave me alone!
He told me that he studied the audience before he went on stage, and he could sort of tell which people would make good subjects. As he said this, he pulled a pocket watch out of his front pocket, and snapped it open and glanced at it. "Great," he said, as he shut it again. "Lots of time before I have to worry about my act. It's great to know you have lots of time." But as he kept talking, instead of putting the watch away again, he just sort of held it loosely in his hands. He likes to gesture a lot, and he'd transfer the watch from one hand to the other, but it stayed pretty much in the same place, just above the table.
He told me that he could easily hypnotize about eighty-percent of the men who came up on his stage; at least, those that weren't actively trying to resist him. Ah, he said; but he could hypnotize 100 percent of the women. He said that he wasn't trying to sound sexist or anything, but women had a different mindset than men, and he claimed that he could "tune in" to their basic emotional needs; that he seemed to be able to sense what he needed to say to put them at ease and get them started down the path toward a deep trance.
As he said this, I tried to keep eye contact with him, but I found I couldn't do it. His eyes ... there's something very ... disturbing about them. His pupils are too big, and too dark. Very black. I felt really uneasy looking at him, so I just let my eyes stay on the watch as he held it. It was very shiny, and it seemed to catch the light perfectly, almost flash from time to time. It had a thin gold chain, but he didn't hold it by the chain. He just sort of held it like it was ... nothing very important. It was just something to be holding while he talked on and on.
He told me that he could especially spot a "Natural." A Natural was a woman who could be placed under hypnotic control very, very easily, and very, very deeply. The thing that made her a Natural was that she was much happier in a hypnotized state than she was awake. He had to take certain precautions, or she literally might never wake up. He'd never met a "Natural" man. He told me that he's looked, but he's only found women with that trait. About one-in-a-thousand, he said. They're rare, and very special.
He told me that the Natural appears to be very intelligent, but that's a little deceiving. She always makes good grades, but she has to work for it. She usually studies very, very hard, and spends long hours in the library and at her desk. I think I nodded at that. I knew just what he meant. I have to study almost all the time to get good grades. Then he went on to say that Naturals are always a little tired because of that. They never really get enough sleep at night. I know what he meant by that, too. I'm tired a lot.