"God, this summer was so boring."
"Only because you made it boring," Vivian, my best friend, fired back.
There was some truth to what she said but that didn't stop me from glaring at her pointedly. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm teeelling yoooou," she sang into her wine glass, taking another sip.
"I'm not going to listen to that stupid tape," I grumbled.
"You should. It changed my life."
"Viv, I love you, but you've been a huge slut long before you ever hypnotized"—I put as much disdain as I could muster into the word—"yourself."
"Maybe but at least now I feel good about it."
Both of us laughed.
Altogether, it was not a bad evening. We were two bottles of wine in, a nice and fruity blackberry mix, and I already texted my husband Kyle that I would crash on Vivian's couch. A girl's night in, so to speak, with the best part being that neither of us had to get all dressed up. Just pajamas, candles, and plenty of snacks.
"Seriously though, Charlie, you should at least make an attempt to live it up a little," Vivian persisted.
"Why do I need to change when I'm happy?"
"You spent the last hour whining about how boring your summer was. Does being bored make you happy?"
Once again, she had a point.
Earlier that year, my son graduated from high school and he insisted on moving into a dorm. If the drive to college hadn't been forty-five minutes, I would have insisted he commute. Ever since, the house had been unbearably quiet during the day. I never realized just how much of a mess teenage boys made until he was gone.
The downside of suddenly having more spare time on my hands than I knew what to do with was that I didn't really have a hobby unless you counted housework and watching TV.
Vivian, on the other hand, always said there weren't enough hours in the day. We were both thirty-nine and had been best friends since Kindergarten. What made us such good friends was how different we were. She was the party animal, I was the "responsible" one. She dragged me out to parties and I made her do her taxes. We never got bored of each other.
"Yeah, well, I can't just go to a bar and have a one night stand with a random guy whose name I don't know but he said I had a cute butt so I let him do anal."
Vivian giggled. "That was totally worth it. And I'm not saying you should become me, I'm not even saying you shouldn't be yourself, I'm just saying that you should admit to yourself you're not happy and have the guts to do something about it."
"And you think hypnosis is going to help with that?"
"Can't hurt to try."
"Oh please, just admit it's all bullshit and you just want to punk me."
"Sounds like you're just afraid it might work and I turn you into my little puppet slave."
"I'm not afraid, I just don't believe in nonsense."
***
My head hurt and no amount of water or cereal, regardless of how delicious it was, seemed to fix it. Still, a little pain was worth the fun evening. We chatted well into the night and caught up on every current event, both important and unimportant ones.
But for the life of me, I couldn't remember how she talked into taking that damn CD. I completely forgot about it until I was back home and got my phone out of the purse, which had been dropped unceremoniously on the floor beside the entrance earlier that morning.
A part of me had already forgotten that CDs even existed.
The cover consisted of a blue background with just the picture of a woman, from the torso up, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Dr. Sorensen's Female Empowerment. The woman looked rather young to be a doctor, in my opinion. She had too-blonde hair, done up in an anachronistic bun and wore a white lab coat. It didn't exactly instill confidence in her ability to hypnotize strangers.
If I had anything better to do, I would have just tossed the case back into the purse but my husband wouldn't be back until late that evening and I already did laundry and got the shopping done the day before.
Sighing, I made my way upstairs and pulled down the attic ladder. I knew that somewhere among all of our old and useless belongings there was a CD player. It took me fifteen minutes but I found the Discmaster 3000 tucked in between stuffed toys and a plastic bin of random Lego bricks. It was Kyle's old player that had been a gift from his company and never worked quite well. It had a hook to strap onto your belt but the lightest touch made it skip.
It required four batteries but to my surprise, it turned on. Fortunately, it came with a set of headphones, the old style with a thin metal band that went over your head, because I doubted I had any corded ones in the house.
I popped in the CD and hit play.
"Welcome, my name is Doctor Sorensen," a firm, but at the same time pleasant, voice greeted me. Her accent was something Scandinavian but I couldn't quite place the country. "Before we begin, you should make yourself as comfortable as possible. It can be your couch or your bed, somewhere where you feel like you can relax."
I hit pause. At the moment, I didn't feel very relaxed at all. I hadn't showered yet and my skin still felt icky from dried booze sweat.
Half an hour later, squeaky clean and wrapped in a very soft, warm purple bathrobe, I made myself comfortable on the living room couch. It was an unusually long fabric-covered three-seater with armrests that were the perfect height for my head. I grabbed the TV watching blanket and made myself warm and comfortable.
"Please hit pause now and make sure you get into a comfortable position," the recording continued.
"Way ahead of you, bitch," I said with smug satisfaction.
"The first step is to take stock of your body. Close your eyes and try to picture yourself. Start with the crown of your head. You have a scalp and underneath that is a skull. I want you to try and relax that."
If I hadn't been so comfortable, I would have gotten up. The scent of my rosemary body wash was nice and my feet were toasty warm. I sighed and closed my eyes.
One by one, Dr. Sorensen worked her way through the body, from the top of the head down to each individual toe. She wanted me to relax everything and, to her credit, it did feel nice to just lie there and actively try to relax. I could still move, if I wanted to, I just didn't want to.
"Now that you are relaxed, it is time to relax your inner self. Forget about the world around you, it does not matter. Only you matter. It is your body and it is your life, not anyone else's."
Next came a whole bunch of motivational speeches that already felt familiar, since I've heard variations hundreds of times before. You can do anything you want, you are in control, blah, blah blah. Still, Dr. Sorensen's mellifluous voice had a calming effect on me and my mind started to tune out the individual words, focusing on her tone.
***
With a start, I woke up. Something buzzed in my ears.
"...your son. Fuck—kcccccchh—your son. Fuck—kcccccchh—your son. Fuck—"
For a moment, I was wondering if my eyes weren't working. I tried opening them again before seeing the faint glow of numbers underneath the TV. It was dark. Almost seven o'clock.
"Kcccccchh—your son. Fuck—"
The damn player was skipping. I slapped it.
"Forget about your husband, your daughter, your son," Dr. Sorensen said in an intense tone. "Fuck the world. Put yourself on the throne of your own queendom."
I turned it off and took the headphones off. The CD was only sixty minutes long but I slept for around five hours. What a complete waste of a day that had been, the opposite of the intended effect.
I threw aside the blanket and saw that at some point during my nap, my bathrobe had come loose. The flaps had slid completely off to the side, leaving my entire lower body naked. I swung my legs out of bed and tied the belt around me again.
