I wanted to stop smoking.

I was eight weeks pregnant, blissfully happy and scared witless. And I smoked. I smoked when I got out of bed in the morning. I smoked through breakfast. I smoked while driving to work, as much as possible during work hours, on the way home, before and after supper, throughout the evening, even in bed....

I smoked fifty cigarettes every single day. I needed to quit.

The doctor checked my weight, dates, blood pressure. “It’s due on 18 March,” he said. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes. How do I stop smoking?”

“Well, you’ve got a great reason. Some people find that hypnotherapy works. ”

“I’ve wondered about that. Do you know any good hypnotists?”

He pulled out a leaflet. “I’ve sent people to Vernon Lopez. He lives nearby. Why don’t you give him a call?”

Two days later I went to see Vernon.

“So, what do you know about hypnotherapy?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid,” I replied.

“All I will do is put you into a relaxed state where I can make suggestions to your subconscious mind which will reinforce your natural self-control when you’re fully awake. What do you need help with?”

“I’m pregnant, and I need to stop smoking.”

“Hmmm,” he said. “Tricky. I normally recommend six sessions over three weeks, and I imagine you’ll want to start immediately?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Well, I’m off on vacation tomorrow for two weeks, which isn’t very useful. I think you should give my colleague, Suzanne Isaacs, a call. She’s not far away, and she’s really very good.”

The next day, when I’d finished work, I rang Suzanne.

“I’d love to help you,” she said. “The only problem is, I’m off on vacation tomorrow. But why don’t you call Peter Brockelstein? He’s really very good.”

Sighing, I called Peter.

“I’d love to help you,” he said. “The only trouble is, I’ve just got back from vacation, and I’m not taking any appointments for the rest of the week. But I can book you in for next Monday if you like?”

We arranged a reservation. Then he said, “Do you truly want to give up smoking?”

“Well, I’m in two minds about it,” I admitted. “I’ve been smoking for fifteen years, and I still enjoy it. But I know it’s bad for me, and I’ve got to stop for the baby.”

“In that case, I can’t help you,” he said.

“What?!!”

“I can’t possibly help you if you don’t truly want to give up. I’ve had people with advanced lung cancer, crawling on their hands and knees, begging me to help them. I’ll help you when you truly want to stop. But not before.”

“Forget it,” I snarled, and slammed down the phone.

That was nineteen years ago. My daughter has grown into a beautiful young lady. And in all that time, since I hung up on Peter Brockelstein, I haven’t smoked a single cigarette. So he was really very good, and amazingly cheap...

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...