Mixed List

“Well, there is a new nonfiction book out that I need, but I couldn't find it at any local bookstore,” she tells me, “Ethical Hypnosis and the Damaged Mind, by the respected Canadian research neurologist, Doctor Elizabeth Hess. It's relevant.”

“It sounds like exactly the kind of book you need to keep moving forward,” I nod in answer.

“She has done some studies. It isn't anything on the level of what I am planning to do in my career, of course, obviously,” she continues, “but her work could be essential to building the understanding of the mind that lets me do those studies.”

“I checked her bibliography. This is her only work dealing with hypnosis,” she adds, “so I don't know what to expect of it.” Given the woman is a Canadian, with a Doctorate, and respected, though? It's fair to hope for something helpful for Amy.

“All right, we'll look for that, first, then, and hope the library has it,” I nod, “and if not, you can ask them to order one for you. Libraries have better contacts than bookstores. Worst case scenario, I'll look for it online and I'll try to get it for you.”

“You're always so sweet and supportive,” Amy smiles at me, sliding her fingers into mine, to hold hands with me for just a few heartbeats. She squeezes my hand, as we head for the nonfiction section, first, since our leisure reading is just easier.

Libraries almost always have interesting fiction stories. Recently-published nonfiction books on a highly particular topic? Quite a bit harder to bet the library will have, unless Amy has a friend at the library who ordered it for her on principle.

It wouldn't be hard to believe. Amy has a few friends, outside of our neighbourhood, including a few I've never met. As we make our way to the nonfiction section, I follow dutifully, so I can help her look. She finds the aisle, and we start to search.

I drop down, so she won't have to crawl or crouch-walk to check the books on the lower shelves. Amy remains standing as she walks down the aisle, trailing her fingers across binders as she searches. She frowns down at me when we hit the end.

“Damn,” she sighs, looking down the aisle, “They don't have one of those rolling ladder things.” She turns and looks at me and I crouch down in front of her and get on my hands and knees. I look over my shoulder at her, jerking my head a little.

“Am I high enough that you'd be able to reach the top shelves?” I ask. Amy giggles in amusement, but she doesn't hesitate to step up on my ass and then stand on my back. I can feel her rising up on her toes, to peer up at the aisle's highest shelf.

“I can only just barely see it,” she says down to me, “but it isn't on the top two shelves here. Can you move forward a bit?” I bite my lip and grunt an answer with some determination. I push my back higher, moving awkwardly on hands and feet.

It's more than a little ungainly, and Amy wobbles a little on my back before steadying herself. She snaps her fingers for me to stop and I freeze, and feel her shift to scan the next section of the aisle's upper shelves. “Hmm, it seems they don'-”

“Ahem,” a man's voice clearing his throat, “Excuse me, what are you doing?” Amy jerks and hops down off me and turns, grabbing my hair and yanking me up. I yelp softly, more startled than pained, turning to look at the man addressing us.

“I was helping my friend look for a book,” I answer, “I would've thought that obvious what with her standing on my back on the balls of her feet, staring at books.” The man stares at me with a deadpan expression for a moment, before it cracks.

“Yes, well, okay, that bit was rather obvious, now that you mention it,” the man smirks, “albeit I don't know any boy that I've ever met that was willing to let a friend use him as a stepstool. What book are you searching for, exactly, young lady?”

“Ethical Hypnosis and the Damaged Mind, by Doctor Elizabeth Hess, of Mississauga, Ontario,” she replies, “I was hoping to find it, but it doesn't seem they have it in ... and I'll have you know, he's my best friend, and I'd be his step-stool, if needed!”

“All right, all right, young madam, I meant no offence to your friend,” he holds his hands up, apologetically, “but as for the book, sadly, no, I am afraid we have no books on that topic of any kind in stock at the moment. We had a recent incident.”

“Someone attempted to set fire to the library, and left anti-hypnotic rhetoric painted along one of the walls,” the librarian tells us, “we removed all of our hypnosis-related nonfiction books and sent them to our local storehouse for safekeeping.”

“I can check the system, however, to see if the book you are searching for is on the list,” he offers, “I could have them send it back, specifically, and call you to come pick it up, if we have it. You could also make a book purchase request, if desired.”

“Thank you,” Amy nods, “I would appreciate that. Please, lead the way.” The librarian glances between us, then nods, then turns and leads the way, as asked, to a computer station that isn't in view of the library's front doors, offering us privacy.

“May I enquire as to your interest in the topic of hypnosis, young miss ... ?” the librarian asks, as he starts tapping on the computer.

“Amy Goodheart. It is my life's aspiration to be a professional hypnotist,” she answers, motioning toward me, “My parents are ... coming to terms with it. Out of my family, only my elder brother supported me. Nico's always supported me, in full.”

“Little shock you're the best of friends, then, I suppose,” he muses, glancing at me, then back to Amy, “Support is terribly important, in virtually everything. If you don't have it ... things can become exponentially harder than they need to be.”

Author's Note:
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