80. The Hypnotist

While I was drawing this, a man pulled up in a big black car, exited the car, and then stood on the sidewalk in front of me and said, ‘Wow, this is a really nice street.’
I told him yes, it is, and then the man said wow again.
‘Such beautiful trees, so quiet,’ said the man, who was very tall, dressed in a white shirt, black pants and shoes and carrying a large, brown paper bag.
‘You should see some of the streets on the other side of Olympic,’ I told him. ‘Gorgeous trees and very quiet.’
‘Uh huh,’ said the man. ‘Where are you from, what’s that accent?’
I told him Australia and he told me he thought so, and that he had lived in Australia for a time.
‘I lived in Glen Waverly,’ he told me, ‘and Clayton.’
The man then went on to name a couple of other familiar places and I sat there in the dappled light, in the heat, listening to him, nodding my head, wilting in my jeans and tee shirt.
‘Where are you from?’ I asked him.
‘Beirut,’ he told me, ‘but we went to Australia for a while and then we came here.’
‘Nice,’ I said.
Then the man told me he works for an alarm company, as a salesman.
Then he told me he had another business that he was trying to get off the ground. ‘I am a hypnotherapist,’ the man said.
‘Really?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he said, going on to tell me about a man whom he had just cured of smoking. ‘I specialise in smoking and I love when I have successes.’
Then I told the man something that I could see thrilled him.
‘I trained as a hypnotist,’ I said, ‘and I have some very good friends who are hypnotherapists.’
‘Ooooohhhh!’ cried the man, holding his hand out toward me. ‘This is great! What is your name?’
I told him my name, and he told me his, and we shook hands and smiled at each other, bonding over hypnosis.
‘Are you a hypnotherapist or a hypnotist?’ I asked him.
‘Hypnosis is for the stage,’ he told me, waving his hand. ‘But when you add some training it becomes therapy.’
Then he told me he had certification and told me who he had trained with in the United Kingdom.
I told him who I had trained with and then he told me I should start working as a hypnotist.
‘They’re slow in the US for this, but last night I spent three hours on a smoking client and I love it,’ he said. ‘I love the connection with people.’
I told him this was the reason I trained, too, that I loved working with people and helping them out.
Then he told me again that I should start working and I told him I love it but have trouble with confidence.
‘Maybe I should get some sessions from you,’ I told him, smiling up at him from where I sat. ‘To help me out with my low self-confidence.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you my card. You know, I was going to park down the street but I said to myself no, I will park here and now I’ve met you,’ said the man, handing me his card.
‘Yeh,’ I said, ‘it’s a lucky meeting.’
‘Nothing happens for nothing,’ said the hypnotherapist, smiling and reaching out to shake my hand again. ‘Everything happens for something.’