Sam Manty

FINGER

DANCING

AUSTIN

MACAULEY

Copyright Sam Manty The right of Sam Manty to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 84963 119 8

www.austinmacauley.com First Published (2012) Austin & Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB

Printed & Bound in Great Britain

With special thanks to my magical mother and wonderful father for their love, support and playfulness.

CHAPTER ONE

Roxi pulled into the parking area and headed for the promenade. It was mid-morning and the Sea Point beachfront was deserted. She needed to walk. The flat sea stretched towards the horizon ending in a thick navy band, which marked the end of the world. A few people sat on benches staring out at nothing. People with different lives, with open space to fill. People with time to gape at the world. Others strolled alone or with dogs. Some pedalled, others jogged, a few mothers fast-walked with prams. Cars rushed by; trucks groaned and dragged. Roxi picked up her pace. Birds were twittering and chatting without pause. The ocean bellowed a deep tummy roll and seaweed dotted the ocean like chocolate chips. She passed the tube-shaped trees, distorted by Cape South Easters, which reminded her of Marge Simpsons hair. To walk and sort, thats what she needed. A cool breeze patted her cheeks. She always went to nature when she was lost. It was the best way to sift and clear out the clutter. Soon her constant steps and the waves rhythmic rush met. Capturing her mind, she disappeared into the ocean, drawn to the hypnotic expansive sea. A wave swelled up and flicked the taste of salt on to her skin, scenting the air. She was at another crossroads in her life. Unsure and uncertain of herself. Against her brilliant mother, the eternal optimist, she would never be enough. Anyway she didnt want what her mother wanted. She even called herself a workaholic, as if that

was a good thing, a respectful, noble contribution to life. Being a workaholic meant you were off balance as far as Roxi was concerned. When did work become so important. The girls at the office were like that. Always alert and available. They loved outdoing each other. Sending out emails to clients at midnight or 5 a.m. before gym. Especially when the boss applauded them publicly. She was living in the wrong era. What was wrong with working eight hours a day? These days it was open all hours, all year round. She knew the next marketing firm would be the same drill. Even if she did manage to get another marketing job, the chances of getting a decent reference were virtually nadda. The boss would probably tell them she was useless. Shit! And now shed gone and done exactly what her mother feared. Another job, down the can. Her mother was right she had no focus. No direction. No proper commitment to anything. The problem was she couldnt do that much. She had her marketing degree and some waitressing experience. Shed dropped out of a few courses along the way... hmmm... OK she was a bit changeable. She wanted to be a social worker but her mother insisted she study psychology instead. It wasnt for her and it was better to get out sooner rather than later right? The thought of another marketing job was more depressing than waiting tables. But she knew she was stuck with marketing. There was no way she could change direction again. She was 29, and too old anyway. The rule was once you carved out your career path, you had to stay in the same profession. You were married to the job until death do you part. The world seemed so inflexible. Why werent people allowed to change their minds? Rox. Oh my God, Roxi Drax? She popped out of her pity bubble feeling a bit off balance.

The suns glare caught her off guard for a moment and she strained to see where the voice was coming from. Shading her eyes she squinted to make out the figure moving towards her and for a tiny instant, she didnt recognise him. Hed shaved all his hair off... a few years ago but she was still acclimatising. Wiggis, she screeched and ran into his arms. They hugged grizzly bear style, chests hard against each other with arms wrapped extra tight. She was so glad to see him. Wiggis her mad blast from the past friend. Thats what shed been missing. She hadnt seen him in... ooh... almost six months. It seemed to happen more and more. The older she got, the less she saw of the people she cared about. What are you doing cruising the beachfront? Dont you have a fancy marketing job or something you emailed me about? Wiggis. Its so good to see you. I know, you too. Where the fuck have you been sista? Working. Putting up with my family. The usual. You? He looked good, she preferred him with big hair but the shaved look was in, and it made him look all-rugged, a bit Bruce Willis. Im living in the Republic of Hout Bay with the woman of my dreams whos changed my life. Im in love. Hmmm, thats a story Ive heard before. This is real, Rox. I know Ive been in love before... About a billion times. He laughed... she loved that about him, his massive belting laugh. OK a billion times. But shes rich and hot and the sex is awesome. Brilliant, Wiggis. Im happy for you. So are you working? Sure Im still painting. The girlfriends loaded so Im a kept man at the moment. How cool is that? A dream come true.

I give her great head in return, so its like a mutual give and take thing. Im sure you do. OK whats with you? Nothing. Same old, right? Bullshit. No really. No ones giving me head. Nothing interesting. Same old. I know you, Rox. Anyway. Whyre you here? Arent there evil office hours? I didnt know office workers were allowed to wander about during the day. She smiled, tried to look upbeat. She knew shed lose her cool if she answered him so she held her cheesy smile in place. And... you look like youve been crying. Nah its just cold. My nose always goes all red. Why was she feeling so emotional? Shed been here before in her life but this time it felt so different. Maybe she wasnt sure if shed get back up this time. You can tell me, Rox. What? He put his arm around her and they strolled. They stopped at an empty bench and he eased her down, forcing her to sit. For a while they didnt speak, just sat and looked out at the expansive ocean. A seagull swooped down, flapped furiously and soared upwards. It was free, floating on the wind, coasting on the thermal without a care. She thought about all the people shed seen that morning, lingering along, with time on their hands. The people that sat and stared out at the beautiful world with no pressure to prove anything. With nowhere to go and no purpose in life. That was the problem, she had to prove so much. It wasnt the job, she was living a lie working there anyway. Any similar job would just end the same way. She wasnt cut out for the rat race. She didnt want to be one of the rats. It seemed like a lost battle. Everyone always wanted more. She was too timid for the world. She put on a coat of armour but inside she was threadbare.

Wiggis watched her, his soft, kind eyes... all the tenderness was making things worse. She preferred hard people, people that were emotionless and results driven. They never expected an emotional response, they were always detached, always on autopilot. She was about to erupt; she had to say something, let it out. I almost had a car accident this morning. This idiot guy in a huge jeep changed lanes and stopped dead, right in front of me. I slammed on the brakes, almost killing my car and just managed to stop in time. Then the arrogant bastard starts swearing at me. As if, its my fault. He was so aggressive. So rude. Jeez, Rox... thank goodness youre OK. What a prick. It gets better. I had to give this major presentation at work this morning. Ive been freaking out about it for weeks. Really, potentially a huge account for the firm and they put all this pressure on me to put the strategy together and win the pitch. I have no idea why they wanted me to work on the pitch. So, I work my ass off and I put together some great ideas. I was ready this morning and then this idiot pulls out in front of me. So I was late for work and by the time I got to the office I was all rattled. Then I forgot I saved the final version on my other memory stick last night, which of course I left at home. He moved closer and touched her face. Aag dont worry toots. Tomorrows another day. Just say fuck em. Thats not the worst part of it. Theres more to add to my kak day. Guess who walks into the boardroom? The prick in the jeep. Hes the client I have to present to and impress. No way. Thats like virtually impossible odds. Then the presentation Ive got on screen is the wrong one and I have to ad lib and stutter like a moron. What an utter disaster. And I know how much you love public talking as it is. Thats why I dont go for that racket. Way too much pressure in office jobs.

Wiggis, they fired me. What the... can they even do that? Just for having the wrong presentation. That sounds ludicrous. I had two prior official warnings... so they can. And theres more. Nooit, I dont think I can take any more. Well I might as well tell you everything. Last week I was a total idiot. I believed an email thing from my bank. I know all about phishing or whatever its called, but this seemed so real. They said it was some security software I needed to download. But of course it was another fraud thing and I logged on with my pin and they wiped out all my money. Im sorry I asked. Something will turn up. Dont worry. Wiggis reached for her and held her close. I cant ask my mother for help. Not again. Theres no way I can go to her. Yeah, I know. Wiggis, please promise not to say anything to anyone. About what? Any of this. I dont want anyone to know. Of course, who would I tell? Well figure something out, Rox. I agree you cant go to your mother. Shell flip if you ask her for more help. Wiggis leant against the railing and rubbed her back as she hung over the iron bars staring down at the beach. Im nothing, Wiggis. Do you realise that I still dont have a clue about life. Really Im such a big idiot. No relationship. No job. Living in a virtual squatter camp. What the hell is wrong with me? Im 29, I should have things figured out by now. Come on, Rox if youre nothing then what the hell am I? Youre the sanest person I know. Hey wait a minute. Ohhh. OK, Ive got it. I know what youre going to do. She swung to face him. He looked so excited. So sure of himself. Im gonna call, Dolores. Shes looking for new therapists.

Shit! You would be perfect. I dont know why I didnt think about this earlier. Im calling her now, just wait. He dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out an antiquated cellphone. Roxi felt a bit panicky, she didnt want him sharing her problems with someone named Dolores. No wait, wait. Whos Dolores? My chicks boss. She told me last night Dolores was desperate for more people. Theyre not answering. Ill sort things out tonight. OK. But what sort of therapist? I dont have any training. I cant do nails and stuff. He performed a drum roll ensemble with his index fingers. Ta da. Thats the beauty of this... you dont need to know a thing. You do a short course and shell train you and everything. They hugged goodbye and he promised to call her later. She had nowhere to go so she drove around for a while. Still feeling a bit shaky, she pulled to the side of the road. A woman selling the Big Issue, bashed on her window. When she saw Roxis tears, she gave her a quick miss and moved on to the next car. She was broke and jobless tra la la. There was something familiar about the flow of her life. Shed promised herself last time this happened that shed never let it happen again. Fat lot of good that did. Right on cue her mother called. For some reason her mother had a built in radar. Whenever she was at her lowest point, she made an accurately piercing appearance. Her mother said she had a heightened sense of intuition but Roxi was convinced shed planted a camera into her body. Her mother never left telephone messages explaining what she wanted. She always said something irritating, like: Roxi, its your mother, phone me at your earlier convenience. As if they were business associates or something.

And if Roxi didnt call her back, and fast, her mother would phone again. The second message was always clipped and slightly disappointed. Its your mother. Did you get my message? That was it, no hello, or goodbye, the tone perfectly pitched on the guilt dial. Again, not saying what she wanted in the frigging first place. Roxi always felt as if she was letting her mother down. Her mother was super efficient and she expected everyone to respond to life in the same way she did. Roxi had learnt that the best way to handle the telephone situation was to answer all her mothers calls the first time round, and just get the whole conversation thing over and done with. Hi Mom. Hi darling. Is everything alright? How the hell did she know? It was amazing. Every single time. Yes everythings great Mom. And with you? Yes of course. Im always fine. It was true, her mother never complained about anything, she was the last of the great stoic ones. The glass was more than half-full. Instead of complaining, she dished out the guilt. Are you sure youre alright? Your voice sounds wrong. She had to keep it together. All fine Mom, fine. Listen darling, the reason Im calling is because I want to introduce you to that boy I was talking about. Remember? At Shabbat a few weeks ago. I mentioned that Sockys son was going to be in town for a few weeks. Oh yes, OK, I remember. She didnt remember of course. Her mother had fixed her up so many times, that she secretly thought of her as her pimp, or was that pimpette? I told him all about you and your fancy new marketing job. And he wants to take you out for dinner... its this Saturday night. Isnt that lovely?

Yes, lovely. Hes a doctor; well a gynaecologist, not a GP or a surgeon but still a doctor. Should I confirm with his mother or do you want him to call you? Dinner with one of her mothers fix ups this weekend. No, she couldnt do it. She needed time to talk herself out of suicide first. Mom... the thing is Id love to meet him but I have this work thing on... this weekend. What work thing? Grrr her mother wasnt buying it, there had to be a camera somewhere. I have to go away today actually, for a week... to this conference. I was only told this morning... so... its very last minute. Today, thats not very professional of them, why didnt they tell you sooner? Well its a good thing Mom. Like a promotion in a way. The girl, who was meant to go... got fired... and now Im being sent in her place. Ooh that sounds good then darling. Climbing up the ladder. OK! So youre only away for one week. I tell you what then... Ill confirm Joe for next Saturday evening. Whew, shed done it, fobbed the great sagacious one. OK thats fine Mom. Look, I cant really talk now, I need to go and pack and stuff. Ill call you when I get back. NO, youll call me when you get there... just so I know youre there safely darling. OK. Ill try Mom. Have a safe trip and well done again. It seems as if Ive finally found you a career. Im so pleased.

CHAPTER TWO

A day later, Wiggis crossed the gleaming white tiles of his local coffee haunt and leaned against the counter. He ordered a second latte. iMali chorused the barristers. Latino music pulsated caffeine energy off the walls. The coffee shop was crazy loud that morning, but around him, addicts seemed oblivious, licking grateful foamy lips. Two tables down, he watched a couple arguing. The woman flushed with anger, looked seriously confrontational. The man avoided her and mumbled to the table. She bit into him nipping and yapping. But the man held his own refusing to respond. He loved watching people but he wasnt good at it, they always spotted him and got pissed off. He was happy he could help Roxi for a change. She was always doing things for him. When he was a kid, she saved his life more times than he could remember. Wiggis, sorry Im late? Roxi rushed in looking half asleep and dishevelled. Finally! Geez, I thought you stood me up. Here just have my coffee. Ive already had one. You look like you need it. He slid a large latte on to her side of the table. OK, so Ive sorted everything out with Dolores. You need to go on a course but its this weekend. Can you make it? And then you do another five day practical thing in a couple of weeks and then some practice hours, case studies and thats it, youre a therapist. What does the course cost? And for the billionth time what is it? All sorted. No cost. Wiggis its fine I can pay some. Youre not exactly flush

yourself. Dont worry I have suck with the head waiter so to speak. No money needed. When you start earning, you can pay me back. Anyway, Im in the moolah. I sold two paintings last week. Some lunatic saw Jesus in my work. Hey well done. Thanks so much, Wiggis. Cool, anything for you toots. So what does your girlfriend do? Shes a therapist. Ja... I know you said, but therere loads of types. Keep an open mind, Rox. Just go on the course and see what you think. If you hate it just stop, OK? No strings. Youre making me nervous, Wiggis. Its not some sex therapist thing is it? Or tantric massage? No way, dont worry... anyway youd be shit at that. I promise youll love this... youll be helping people. Really! Its good work and Dolores is brilliant at it. My girlfriends busy all the time and Dolores says its a growing market for South Africa. They increased business by 77 % last year. I dont like this. Why wont you just tell me? Because youre a prude, Rox. If I tell you, you wont go. Im not a prude. I lost my virginity at 17 remember? Younger than you were! Uhhm hold the phone, sista. You turned 18 the next day! So its misleading to say you were 17. You were more 18, which, means that you beat me by one month. And Ive certainly made up for it... unlike you. Youre just a pervert. Whats bisexual anyway? Last year you were in love with someone named Greg and now youve got some new girlfriend whos the love of your life. What are you? Its called pansexual not bi. Youve just proved my point, thats what I mean by prude, Roxi. Your outlook on life is antiquated. Youre scared shitless to take any proper risks or try anything new. But shame its not your fault. What do you mean its not my fault?

Well your mama, bless her gorgeous soul, wins the purple heart for control diva. Ever since hed known her, Roxi weighed most things against what others thought, especially her mother. When they were kids, he tried to get her to stand up to her mother. After school, whenever she tried to make a go of it and break free, something always screwed up. So these days she played it ultra subservient and conservative. He wanted to help her get brave again, to take risks or at least trust herself. He knew she hated marketing. She only did the course because she owed her mother. Her mother was amazing and he knew she wanted the best for Roxi but they were so different. Roxi was gentler, more spiritual. She wasnt cut out for the corporate world. Her mother was a head to the grindstone, old school survivor. Look, toots, the therapy business might not change your life but at least theres some hope. Who knows you might like it. Stop worrying so much, things have a way of working out. Sorry, Wiggis youre right. I should be thanking you for this, not being all negative. Tah da!!! Wiggis, to the rescue... once again. Its only because I secretly fantasise about marrying you one day. Marrying? Thats virtuous coming for you. Although, I think you need to know right off that I would never marry a bisexual. What happens if I come home and find you in bed with the gardener? Wed be married, Rox. Id be faithful to the end. So problem solved. They were interrupted by raucous pigeon squawks. A massive dark grey male pounced on to a screeching pale female, and despite her protests, he pinned her down. Look at that huge pigeon... Im sure hes raping her... right in front of us. Its disgusting. Its not rape, its spring, Rox. The love call... its all natures way... you know the birds and the bees. Talking of which, when last did you get laid? Dont be ridiculous. Im not telling you.

That long, huh? Its not right Wiggis, the females unhappy. Look at her. He laughed. The fat male pigeon had his way with the trembling female and the moment it was over, he dumped her, and flew away... probably off to stalk his next victim. So nu? He loved doing his Yiddisha granny shtick. He knew it pissed Roxi off. As a teenager, whenever he visited Roxis house, he always got her mother to teach him new Yiddish phrases. Theyd sit for hours laughing about the meaning of some of the words. He grilled her again about her sex life. She wasnt getting off the hook that easily, although he knew the answer was dismal. So how did you meet your new girlfriend? she asked. Dont change the subject, Roxi, were talking about your sex life. I heard this thing on the radio, Dr Eve, and she was saying that if you dont use your punani, it just caves in on itself. The muscles get all weak. You need to keep the natural juices flowing to ensure things are healthy down there. Dont look at me like that. Its a fact. Wiggis! She rolled her eyes. He was always so infuriating. If you need help lubricating... just let me know. The next morning, Roxi stretched out, running her hand over her ribs and hipbones. Maybe job loss and near death in a car accident helped with weight loss. She was sure there was more bone jutting out than usual and it felt good. Strips of light streamed through her yellowing curtains. She made a note to get them cleaned. Fluffs of white dust danced in a ball of light just above the frayed suede couch. She picked up her phone and checked the time. Almost, 11 a.m. That was a record sleep. Yawning, she stretched again, arching her back. Maybe shed lie in today. Just take it easy and not get frazzled about the future. What did they say? You

can only live one day at a time anyway, so what was the point of worrying about tomorrow when she was still in today? Wiggis was right. Shed always made plans in the past. Thats what life was about. If it whacked you senseless, you had to somehow get back up. On cue, her cell phone rang. She ignored the first few rings and then glanced at the screen to see who it was. Hi, Mom. Darling hows the conference? Fine, Mom. Fabulous. Where are you? In Durban, at the convention centre there. Oh how lovely. I believe its huge. Whats the weather like? Hot, humid, she guessed, wasnt Durban always hot and humid? Shed have to check the weather forecast over the next few days. Her mother was a hawk; she tracked the fine details. Listen darling the reason Im calling is my colleague Shirley, you know the one in accounts whos arranged some payments for you. Well she swore she saw you yesterday walking out of Vida in Green Point with some boy? Oh. I told her you were away of course. Of course. You apparently looked right at her and didnt acknowledge her. Thats because it wasnt me Mom. Thats what I told her. So isnt that hysterical, you must have a double. They say everyone does. Im sure yours isnt as cute as you. Mmmm. Couldnt possibly be as cute as me Mom. Listen darling. Your dates been confirmed. You need to meet at the Waterfront at 8 p.m. at that upstairs fancy fish restaurant. With the Joe Shmoe guy.

Joe Markowitz. Same difference. Whyre you so sulky? Is work getting to you? Ive got some great stress busting techniques. I was in the middle of something. OK, darling, I wont keep you. I always feel as if Im disturbing you these days. Anyway, I know youll love, Joe. Did I tell you he was a doctor? Call me when youre back in town, OK? Roxi got out of bed. There was no point lazing about after a conversation with her mother. She was always so upbeat and energetic that it took away the fun of lounging. She called Wiggis but he didnt pick up. What other kinds of therapists where there? Dolores was such an old-fashioned name. It reminded her of that singer in Bugsy Malone, or was her name Tallulah? Shed have to lie low for a few days. Shed forgotten how incestuous the Sea Point vibe was. Old and young were trained to gawk and scandalmonger, none of them missed a beat. Subtle was not an option if you lived in Sea Point. Wiggis was over for dinner. Roxi glared at him. He dipped a crab sushi roll into the small plastic soya container. His cheeks bulged out as he chewed. He looked like a chipmunk. These pieces are bigger than usual. Have you noticed? Roxi didnt eat sushi and even if she did, she was too pissed off with him to eat. Let me get this right, youre sending me on a hypnosis course? You said Id be a therapist. Hello, earth to Wiggis. Roxi paced slinging wine over the tatty carpet. He carried on chewing. Her furnished bachelor flat was in a dismal state. It wasnt natural for a person of her age to live with other peoples furniture. Everything was mismatched. A blue suede couch and a crudely painted dark green coffee table with kitsch porcelain pyramid sculptures. The white curtains were tinged

yellow and they didnt quite reach the floor. She reminded herself why shed moved out of her own gorgeous apartment. She was being sensible and enterprising. Renting out her own apartment not only paid for the crummy bedsit she was in, it also covered the instalments she still owed to her mother. Her mother insisted on a formal contract stamped by a commissioner of oaths. Yes. Hypnotherapist. Do you want the last piece of sushi? he asked. No. Ill have more wine. Well thats why I didnt tell you, Rox. Come on prove me right. Tell me Ive wasted my time convincing Dolores and youre not going on the course. Wiggis crawled to the coffee table for the wine bottle and topped up their glasses. But hypnosis, Wiggis, thats just stupid? Id rather pluck eyebrows or do waxes. Not pubic hair though, thats just as bad as being a hypnotist. When youve calmed down we can talk about it. Wiggis stretched his legs out and leaned against the couch. She didnt have a dining room table. Most her meals were eaten on the couch or lying in bed... when she had the rare guest, they ate picnic style around the coffee table. Wiggis was calm. He gazed up at her in a condescending and amused way. She wanted to kick him in the leg. So when did you become the voice of reason. Im the sane, practical one remember? Dont tell me to calm down. Youre a crazy bisexual artist. Hypnosis has made me sane darling. It helps people deal with stress. Actually everything in life. I did a session with Dolores last week and it was incredible. Aha. So thats why youre sending me? You think Im not coping, about to have a nervous breakdown. I need a job remember, not a self-help module. Its both Rox, give it a chance. You start off with selfhypnosis and then you progress to clients. She slugged down the last of her wine and carried on

pacing the dismal length of her apartment. There was no space for proper strides, every time she got going, she had to step over Wiggiss legs. She glared at him. She had an urge to jam her fingers into his eyes. The bastard was still sniggering at her. Why the hell are you laughing? I just pictured your mother. All prim and proper in her business suit. Matching shoes and bag, lipstick perfectly applied... telling some stuck up Jewish bag that her daughters a hypnotist. Ha ha so funny. My point exactly. Do you want my mother to have a heart attack? Jewish girls dont become hypnotists. Its just not done. Be brave, Roshelle Draxonovich. Fuck off, dont call me that. You know I hate my name. He yanked her towards him and gave her a sympathetic squeeze. OK look Rox. What have you got to lose right? My family for one. No offence... but what a loss. Dont judge us, Wiggis. Weve gone through a lot. I know, I know. Im crazy about your nutty family you know I am. I just wish you could get rid of some of the Jewish guilt shit and just live for you for a change. She was offended, who did he think he was criticising her family when he used to beg her to spend every weekend at her house. Her mother virtually raised him, the ungrateful pig. Excuse me. And your family? Your lifes like a scene out of the Breakfast Club. I remember a box of fags for your birthday and a swift kick up your ass. He put a hand in front of her mouth, as if to silence her. He didnt want to remember those days. They both knew her family had saved him. Rox, its a far stretch for you... I know that. You think hypnotist and you imagine some lunatic imitating a chicken on stage. Some powerful wizard guy who can make people do

things that they dont want to do. Believe me... you and the rest of the ignorant world, all have the wrong idea. Hypnosis isnt about any of that. Trust me and give it a chance. You might discover that this is what youve been looking for. We both know that marketing isnt your shtick. Youre not Jewish, Wiggis. Stop using Yiddish. Geez, you need to lighten up girl. Dont you dare say it. Dont you dare... Ill kill you... you bastard. Say what? That you need to get an emergency fannycure. A what? Neaten up down there sista. And then get laid. Its true, Rox thats exactly what you need. Solves my troubles, every time.

CHAPTER THREE

Doloress heavy bracelets jangled as she handed out nametags. She was a supersized, jovial woman whose outfit reminded Roxi of a human dream catcher. Roxi stood on her own away from the rest of them, sipping coffee in a corner of the courtyard. Just before the session was set to start, Roxi eyed out the others. Dolores asked the group to move inside and take their seats. Roxi had that first day of school feeling. Nervous yet excited. A scent of musky incense lingered and wind chimes chanted in the gentle breeze. Her mother would not approve of the decor. Porcelain angels with bits of coloured mosaic glass, a motley mishmash of draped furniture, ornate throws and fabric cloth over soft couches. Some would call it alternative, a creative space. Rosa would call it bad taste disguised as artyfarty. Roxi pushed her thumb against the palm of her left hand and circled. A nervous tick. She used to blow on her fingers as a kid or blink a lot. Jamming her thumb into her palm was less visible and people didnt ask questions. She was still a bit unsure how Wiggis had managed to get her there but she followed the rest of the group into the training room and sat down on a white plastic chair peering at the wooden slatted floor. As you know my names, Dolores and I run the Cape Town Hypnosis Training Centre. You can all hear Im American, but Ive been living in Cape Town for ten years. I first discovered hypnosis in my early teens when I had an accident. I fell from a tree bashing my front teeth right into my gums. I knocked them so hard that they totally disappeared up

into my palette. I had no front teeth until I was twenty and... those werent my own. Anyhoo, the only doctor in my small town, was a tiny skinny Indian man who used hypnosis on patients that didnt have money for the anaesthetist. Like most families in the town we were poor. I didnt know the doctor was using hypnosis at the time because he called it calming or relaxing techniques to help take the pain away and somehow, I forgot about it. It was only when I rediscovered hypnosis about twenty years later, that I realise what that Indian doctor actually did and how well it worked. Right, Dolores boomed her hands together sounding a massive clap. Everyone sat erect and alert. Now why are you all here? Lets start with you, said Dolores pointing to a pretty young blonde woman with a half ponytail. The girl looked nervous, touching her hair for a moment before speaking. Im here because Ive had some problems. Ive been dealing with them over the past year. I was in a clinic for an eating disorder and Im one year in recovery. I want to be more powerful, take ownership of myself. Just not feel so scared all the time. Welcome, said Dolores. Roxi joined the group, and nodding a welcome to the girl, who blushed and pulled her legs up, crossing them on the chair. Dolores pulled out a very low stool from under the table and perched down. It looked hard and uncomfortable. The shape of her large thighs visible through the thin orange fabric of her loose Aladdin pants. Roxi wondered if her dreadlocks were as heavy as they looked. She was wearing a bulky headband, which held the thick strands of greying hair in place. Was it true that people with dreads never brushed or washed them? Ew, it must be a fallacy. And what about you? Dolores pointed to a young guy wearing checked long shorts and a swished about haircut.

You booked so late... I had to write a nametag out for you. Yeah I know Im sorry. Im actually a journalist and weve been assigned to pick a course, any course and then write about it. OK, so what do you expect from this? Nothing really. Im keeping an open mind. Ill just see what happens. Dolores shifted on her stool. It groaned under her weight, strained and then settled. She was wearing a matching flowing orange shirt with odd symbols on the sleeves and hard leather shoes with funny points at the end like a jester. Mr Ban, tell me what are you and Mr Laurence are doing here? Dolores smiled broadly at two coloured men, who sat neatly in formal clothing. Her smile was incredible; her entire face illuminated. Believe it or not, Dolores, Im 82 years old and, Mr Laurence is in his 60s. She whacked her hands together, echoing through the room and threw her head back. You certainly dont look your age, Mr Ban. Thank you. He blushed. There was a sudden warmth in the room, and Roxi felt less frightened. She still had no idea what to tell these people and Dolores petrified her. She turned to listen to Mr Bam. The two men were dressed in suit pants and jacket with shirt, no tie. Old school men, gentle and well mannered. Well, Mr Laurence and I are both Ministers from our church. Were here today, because there is so much pain... out there, and in our community. The youth and drug problems, bad family lives, so many poor people with very little hope. We hoped that you, Dolores, could help us instil some good back into the community. Some hope so that the youth can learn how to help themselves. Start valuing the right things,

instead of drugs and technology. Dolores thanked them, lowered her head with a small bow before turning to the next person. Lets hear from you, dearie. Dolores pointed to a young gay looking guy wearing skinny jeans and a tight long sleeve white sweater. His hair swept upwards moulded into a windstorm. Roxi stared at his clear face, which was open and quite beautiful. He bounced in his chair, eagerly crossed his legs and arms and wiggled his head. Well I teach children and Ive noticed that many of them seem to slip into trance-like states when completing routine tasks like lists of math sums. I want to see if this fits into my work somehow but its very definitely also for my own growth. I do meditate and Ive done a Reiki course. I think Im just so, so ready for the next thing. I want more if you know what I mean. Dolores smiled at him. Her teeth were perfect, white porcelain tiles. Wonderful of course I understand. Its what we all need. More of everything! Strive for abundance. Thats the answer in life, sweet lovely abundance. There was one more person to go before Roxi, a Goth looking woman/girl/person thing. Her top was very low. As the girl bent down to pick up her coffee cup large white breasts with red sores flopped out. Smudged black eyeliner seeped into her freckled skin. Bob styled hair, dyed ultra black, clung wet and greasy to her forehead. She tucked a stubby leg under her knee and rubbed her nose. Im an addict. Rosa would say her accent was from the wrong side of the track. What sort of an addict? asked Dolores. Everyone in the room held their breath. Everything. Crack cocaine, and heroin.

Roxis mouth gaped... she was stuck in rehab, with a room full of lunatics. Dolores welcomed the drug addict without flinching and turned to face her. Roxis heart pounded, she wasnt good at performing or public speaking. She always froze up. Let the world end now, she prayed. Roxi, why are you here? She clammed up. Her voice, the slightest whisper, I dont know. Dolores sprung out of her low chair and rushed to the whiteboard at the front of the class. In massive black letters she wrote: I dont know And then she underlined the words. People! she bellowed, sounding excited that Roxi had blundered so that she could do her little trick. I dont know does NOT exist in this room. She moved back to her low chair and collapsed down. So, why are you here, Roxi? She hated confrontation, and still couldnt think what to say. I think... maybe I want to be a hypnotist? She shrugged hoping it was the right answer. Or at least enough of an answer, to get Dolores off her back. It seemed not. Dolores gave her an icy look. Girl, why are you asking me? That was a question, not an answer. I ask the questions in this room, not you. So ask yourself... do you or dont you want to be hypnotherapist? Roxi could feel herself trembling. It wasnt fair, why was Dolores embarrassing her so much? I do, she answered, as if taking her marriage vows. The next morning Roxi woke up feeling rejuvenated. She stood munching breakfast at the open window of her apartment dripping sweet pineapple on to the stainless steel window ledge. In the far distance she could just make out the sea, a

smidge of blue. Her window mostly looking out on to other peoples windows. Oh and a row of air-conditioning units. Not a very attractive view but there was a tree to the one side with thick branches that looked like outstretched arms. She didnt feel like driving today, preferred to stroll. She loved the feel of the warm sun hot on her back. As she ambled, she swept her palm against silky purple flowers planted on the sidewalk. She hummed touching textures along the way, fingers gliding over gate poles, brushing against leaves and pretty flowers. Curious passers-by gazed at her but avoided full eye contact. She didnt know where she was heading until she reached the beach. Flicking off her sandals, she stepped down the concrete stairs. The day was warm, the flat sea was grey and tranquil. On the beach, she sucked in the salty air and exhaled, releasing a long, exalted sigh. She swayed to the breeze, closing her eyes, rocking to the rhythm of the oceans grumbling swish. Collapsing she spread out her legs and arms, digging her toes into the warm sand. Eyes closed, she remembered what Dolores taught them in class. Her body felt heavy, yet her mind was light. She inhaled deeply counting backwards 300, 299, 298, she exhaled again, sucking breath into her body, 297, 296. Fluttery colours travelled around in wild circles, swirling and toppling. She found herself back in her tunnel of patched colours, orange clouds, misty and lucid, a mix of red and yellow watercolours. She floated away lingering inside a vivid cave, and then she soared, pulled deeper and deeper up into the sky. She disappeared to her perfect place, her world of abundance and then a voice told her it was time to come back. Starting at one. And then two. Gently nudging, arousing her, telling her to return. The voice told her to open her eyes on the count of three. Her body felt so relaxed she wondered if she would ever

be able to open her eyes again. She wanted to stay there forever. But on three, her eyes flicked open. The voice... which, she now realised was her own voice counted four, and then five. She sucked in a breath, gasped for air, fully awake and alert. Happy tears streamed. Amazement that such a place existed for her. She knew she would enter it easily now, her dreamy, tranquil, clear space. Her wonderful space of dreams, her passage to the possible. And she was grateful. Later, at the coffee shop down her road for lunch, she spotted a gorgeous hunky man parking his Harley. He was a groomed gypsy type with long dark hair and light coffee eyes. He sat at one of the outside tables on the pavement, perched on a high red stool. Through the cafe window she could see small fragments of him. A part of his arm, tanned and muscular. Then his mouth. His lips were parted pink and moist. One of his legs tapped rapidly. Then it stopped, and started again. He was wearing light blue jeans, a black leather jacket and heavy biker boots. He tousled his long brown hair and glanced her way. Her heart leaped as their eyes fluttered, making contact. Posing for her, he licked a finger and turned a page of the newspaper. He scratched his chest and slowly rubbed a hand over his thigh. She wondered if hed really seen her, was there eye contact? Then he stood up abruptly and grabbed his helmet. He walked away and got on to his bike without glancing back. She was so disappointed. He was meant to look back! She remembered a word from English class, mamihlapinatapai. Something about two people seeing each

other from across the room. Their eyes meet. They both want an interaction but neither of them has the courage to do anything about it. It was Saturday night. Roxi found the upstairs fish restaurant at the Waterfront and headed for the ladies. Freeing her hair, she shoved the stretched elastic band into her handbag. A tall blonde with massive solid breasts strode out of a cubicle. She puckered in front of the mirror, applying lipstick in two assured sharp strokes. Fluffing her hair, she flicked twice and stepped back to get the full effect. Roxi smeared a bit of pink lip gloss and fled. She waited at the bar sipping a glass of sparkling water. The blonde catwalked out of the bathroom wiggling and jiggling. Roxi. Im so sorry I was waiting at our table. I didnt realise you were sitting at the bar? The voice was high-pitched male and the hand on her shoulder felt clammy. She turned and forced a smile. Wow. Your mother was right. Youre gorgeous. Joe took her hand and kissed a knuckle. Shall we? Our tables at the window. We can see the whole harbour. Boy, Ive missed Cape Town. Joburg is a great place, you make a lot more money but ultimately I want to move back here. He pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit down, before he sat. Are you the quiet type, a bit shy? She shrugged. No, not usually. Im fine with that. My last girlfriend. Could she talk your ear off and kibitz. On and on. Im telling you I couldnt get a word in. Should we get some vino? Yes, great. He ordered wine and the seared salmon for both of them. He rambled on about work and gynaecological procedures. You wont believe the advances. My father, God rest his

soul, was a gynie... you should see some of the instruments they used in his day. Scary stuff. She was petrified hed ask about her last pap smear results, so she smiled and nodded keeping up her end of the conversation. Im fascinated by the vagina, the intricate complexity, all those folds and layers. I mean all vaginas are similar, sure, but theyre really unique, like a fingerprint. Dont you think? She didnt want to talk about vaginas so she pointed to a massive yacht, anchored in the harbour. Imagine owning one of those. He perked up, grinning like a kid with his first erection. Actually! He paused, swirling the wine in his glass. Im saving for one of those babies. He gave her a sexy look, rubbing his tongue over the top row of his teeth. I might even have it by the end of the year. Stick with me kid and Ill take you sailing. She rolled her eyes... she didnt mean to but she couldnt help herself. Wow Joe, the vagina business must be lucrative. He got the message and carried on yakking about his dream yacht and she managed to half listen. What sort of women went for gynaecologists? She needed to do a survey. The waiter filled her glass and asked if they wanted another bottle. She took a quick peek at her watch. Oops, Joe noticed, but he carried on talking. He was onto the Palestinian occupation now and Israels bad rap. She excused herself and squeezed past tables on the way to the restroom. Why did she let her mother talk her into this? Mind you, the last date was even worse. The guy was a financial guru and spent the evening scaring the crap out of her. He wrote out long equations on a serviette and predicted shed end up a bag lady. She glanced at the bar and saw him... Harley man. Oh, my God. He was looking right at her. She gave him a warped smile and a vague wave. She managed to swagger into the

bathroom and whacked into the glass door. Shit. Oh shit he must think shes a total freak. Did he wink at her? Or maybe he just blinked? That was the problem with waiters doing the wine top-ups she couldnt monitor how much wine shed slugged back and she always drank too much, when she was anxious or bored stiff. She had no idea what had just happened. Did he smile at her? Mr Harley was definitely the man of her dreams. She had to make an impact; she needed this man to want her. She decided to do a sexy number. Mimicking blonde woman, she cupped and lifted her breasts, puckered her lips and strode out of the bathroom a la catwalk, one gorgeous luscious leg directly in front of the other, wiggling and jiggling her shoulders and butt simultaneously all the way to Joes table. Before sitting, she gazed at the bar with a long sideways sultry pose... and saw that Harley man had gone. You look strange. Is your back sore? Joe asked. She couldnt stand another minute with this man. How rude hed already gobbled up all his fish. She plonked heavily into her seat and clanged her knife and fork together. No wonder youre so thin... small appetite hey. She kept glancing at the bar, hoping Harley man would reappear. So tell me something about you Roxi. Your mom says youre in advertising; that must be interesting? Well, marketing actually. Oh right. I never did know the difference. So what clients are you working on? Im so sorry Joe. I didnt want to say anything earlier but Im not feeling that well. Do you mind if we get the bill? He walked her to her car and thankfully didnt try and hold her hand or do anything stupid. She felt a bit bad. He was a nice guy, just boring... and after seeing Harley man. They stopped in front of her car. Joe looked solemn. Im not sure if youre really feeling ill or if Im the cause of it, he cackled. But Id really like to see you again, Roxi.

Would you give me a chance? A roaring purr erupted as Harley man reversed out of an alleyway. On tiptoes he angled his bike into the parking bay adjacent. He thrust down his left foot pumping his bike into action. Heat from the exhaust warmed her leg as he passed. God I hate those things. What polluters, Joe said pulling her towards him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she could feel the heat of his crotch. Her eyes travelled to Harley man who was watching her. He revved his bike, wrenching out hot masculine exhaust fumes as he rode away. He was beautiful, a wild dark stallion. She fantasised. Imagined being alone with him in a dark Parisian alleyway. Her thighs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her. She could feel the hard concrete wall rubbing against her back. Oh, yes, she moaned with pleasure as he... Ugh what the... Joe shoved his fat tongue into her mouth. His teeth bashed against hers. He grabbed her ass and pressed into her, thrusting madly. She was sure her poodle used to hump her teddy in the same way. She started gagging. His jaw was wide open. His tongue, elongated and as stiff as a surfboard, hit the back of her throat. Sorry, sorry, Roxi. Youre just so gorgeous. I see so much cunt every day and I cant touch any of it. Its natural. Im a man. Speechless, she slammed her car door and drove away. Her jeans moist with his semen.