Emma Knows All Page 2

  "I'm not thinking about him anymore," Em said. "I've given up knowing the answer. Any of those answers, actually. Sometimes you have to let the past be unresolved."

  "Good for you," said Frank. "Although that means I went through a lot of trouble on your behalf for no good reason. I got the tape you wanted." Pulling open his drawer, he held a cassette from within. "One late-night broadcast featuring deejay Emmagene Benton taking song requests from lonely listeners all across the southern California border."

  "I can't believe you were that thoughtful," said Em.

  "I'm a thoughtful kind of guy." Frank's smile slid into place, breaking the last of Em's composure in a blush. "I think you've known me long enough to know it's true." The little bit of humor in his voice — it was always there, making it hard for her to know when he was being serious.

  "Well, thank you," she said, touched. How had it ever occurred to him to go through that kind of effort on her part? And for something which seemed as pointless as her personal curiosity? "It's the thought that counts, and that was incredible of you to do."

  "I knew how much time you spent thinking about it," said Frank, tossing it in the drawer again. "Change your mind about looking for him, and you can pick it up from me. I'll hold onto it for you."

  "Thanks," she said again, warmly. "But I think I should stick with distance." The urge to hold the tape in her hands crossed her mind, fleetingly — she tried to imagine the sound of her voice on it, the voices of the late-night callers, and all the love songs and classic rock anthems which must've been on her play list that night. Charles hadn't requested a song, so she had played the first thing that came to her after their conversation — what was it? Nothing cheesy. She would have picked something less on-the-nose.

  She had thought about trying to find Charles. Seven years was a long time to think about a single caller. The voice she couldn't reach — that was how she remembered him: the aching, hollow voice whose pain had been too deep for words. Once, she'd even considered having a private investigator try to trace the number that had phoned the radio station that night, since a part of her had always longed to know if or how its owner found his way out of the heartache.

  But there were so many unhappy voices on the line back in those days, it wasn't fair to care more about Charles than the others. And not every caller had been a lonely heart left wide awake in the wee, small hours. Some had simply been drunk and desperate for fifteen seconds of fame. A lot of others had just been bored night shift workers who wanted to hear their favorite song.

  "Here's to the past being left behind," said Frank, raising his glass. "Unless you play that tape on tomorrow's show, that is."

  Em's blush for Frank's thoughtfulness finally receded. "Not necessary," she said. "I already did an appeal, remember? I mentioned it in a couple of magazine interviews, and in that interview on Helping and Healing. And to no avail. He probably found a very sympathetic ear somewhere else, who helped him to a perfectly healthy relationship afterwards."

  "Some very creepy people did respond to your remarks," Frank reminded her. "I had no idea that many perverts and freaks call late-night programs with song requests."

  "Ugh. The hazard of being a pseudo-celebrity making a public appeal," shivered Em, thinking of the weird letters delivered to her via the station's address. "Anyway, tomorrow's show is already booked with a guest before the call-in, so there's no time for personal business."

  Frank's pencil had been scribbling on the back of his page, ending with a drawing that reminded her of a doodle before he shuffled the page aside. "Who is it?" he asked.

  "Some relationship guru who Lucas wants in the spotlight. Ferris, I think."

  Frank glanced up. "Are you serious?"

  Em had been toying with the idea of asking what he thought of her writing — the loose pages she had typed now and then, and had given to Frank to see if he found potential in them — when his words snapped her back to their conversation. "Yes," she said. "Have you heard of him? Isabel said something about him being a psychologist, I think."

  "Of course I have," laughed Frank. "And you have, too. You've just forgotten. Dr. Colin Ferris, author of Ye Old Gentleman's Guide to Pursing Girls in Medieval Fashion."

  It was a split-second before Em's brain connected his joke with the real version. "Oh — I know, of course. We saw the poster for his book signing in the store a couple of months ago."

  "I can't wait to hear his segment," said Frank. "This should be fun. I'll have to change my radio station from that easy listening one."

  "Truly?"

  "Of course. I'm kidding. I listen to your show every day." Frank polished off his wine and reached for a fresh page so they could start brainstorming chapters for his book.

  Chapter Two

  Psychologist and author Colin Ferris was the living representation of his author photo, the one Em had looked up before bed the previous night — that is to say, serious, uptight, and extremely stiff. And to think she'd been assuming it was simply the black-and-white aspect that made a potentially attractive figure look so imposing on his book jacket.

  He was already seated in the broadcast booth when Em arrived at the studio ten minutes before the show. The curse of a flat tire had left her stranded on the freeway until a tow truck and her cab arrived. She could feel her hair escaping its various pins and barrettes as she dropped her clutch and blazer on the desk and slid into her hostess chair.

  "Hi," she said, endeavoring to hide her breathlessness as she extended her hand. "I'm Doctor Emma, nice to meet you, sorry I'm late." She motioned to Isabel, whose expression was extremely exasperated for some reason. "Your radio headset is there, if you'll just pop that on, we'll be on the air shortly."

  He shook her hand. Limply, she noticed, although his fingers felt strong in her grip. "Thank you, Miss Benton." His voice was curt. He obeyed her request.

  Isabel's introduction purred soothingly over the air waves as the 'on air' light glowed red. "Good afternoon, listeners, and welcome to Heart Therapy with Doctor Emma, where we discuss love and relationships in an open and honest forum. The number is one eight hundred H-O-N-E-S-T-Y, and, remember, first-time callers have priority as always. Now, here's your host Doctor Emma."

  "Thank you, Isabel. Before we take your calls, listeners, we have a special guest to introduce in the studio today. Eminent psychologist and author Colin Ferris —"

  "Doctor Ferris." he interrupted. "If you would."

  She glanced at Isabel, whose expression was giving nothing away rather than laugh, probably. "Doctor Ferris," corrected Em, "whose book Relationship Realities: Dating Truths for Modern Men with Traditional Manners is currently number five on the Self-Help Bestseller's List. Throughout today's show, we'll be talking with him about the response of both fans and critics to his work." She flashed Doctor Ferris a smile, albeit an inauthentic one. "It's a pleasure to have you on the show."

  "Thank you, Miss Benton," he answered.

  Emma mouthed Isabel from behind the booth's glass. Doctor Emma. If Doctor Ferris saw her, there was no sign of it. Isabel gave up.

  "Our listeners are looking forward to knowing more about what's behind your best-selling advice volume, Colin ..."

  "Again, it's Doctor Ferris."

  "Please, don't feel the need to be formal on our show."

  "I'd rather be formal, if you'll permit it. I prefer to be addressed by my actual title when discussing my work. My background in this field is an academic one, after all — I have a Ph.D in psychology and a Masters in social therapy."

  Rude. Cold. Arrogant. These words were supplanted by one single definition in Em's mind: snob. If Em and Isabel were staring at him like a Martian unable to grasp simple Earth manners, he didn't seem to care. He straightened his tie, then cleared his throat away from the mic.

  "Let's get right to the phones." There was a touch of ice in Em's voice, which melted only beneath the instinct that radio hosts should sound calm and controlled at all times. "Who do we have on the lin
e, Isabel?"

  "We're making an exception to the rules today, Doctor Emma, so Claire from Omaha is on the line."

  Claire Bates was a regular caller — lonely and talkative, well-past middle age, working from home so she could care for her elderly mother with senile dementia, she was the show's self-proclaimed biggest fan. Izzy clearly sensed a softball was needed for the first round, a buffer between the cold guest and the new callers.

  "Welcome to the show, Claire."

  "Oh, Doctor Emma, thank you for having me! You know how much I love your show — me and Mom, when she's having her good days. There are more bad days than good days now, but, still, we keep on, faithful every afternoon here in Omaha."

  "Tell us how you've been, Claire. Last time we talked, you were still struggling to cope with the effects of your mother's advancing symptoms and the isolation you felt as a single woman and caregiver. Are you still feeling burdened by those issues? Or did the outlet for your feelings we talked about last time finally help?"

  "Oh, it helped, Doctor Emma. I did just what you said and wrote all of those things down. Boy, it took a lot of paper! But afterwards, I felt a lot clearer, like I'd just said them all aloud and they just went 'poof' up in the air. Since then, I've been having a lot fewer of those little dark episodes of loneliness we talked about —"

  "Do you think you're ready for the support group we've talked about before?" From the corner of her eye, Em was watching her guest. Doctor Ferris gazed with boredom across the studio. Wood and bored go together, her mind impishly suggested.

  "I don't know about that. It's so hard to go out, you know. And dating would be impossible. Even when the home health aid is here, I still feel funny about leaving Mother. But I'm trying to go out to the grocery store once a week. And to the library sometimes — you know, to drop off Mother's magazines. Those darn subscriptions never run out! But she loves them so much ... and I go to the recycling center once a month..."

  "Well, keep trying, Claire," Em intervened at this point, since it would take Claire forever to recite her list of small errands. "It's important for you to have a life, too. And we look forward to hearing more about your progress on our upcoming 'Relationships in Review' broadcast."

  "Thank you so much for saying so, Doctor Emma. I guess it just means everything to me to have you and all the listeners pulling for me while I'm struggling. Just me and Mother trying to make it day after day..."

  "Thanks for calling, Claire. And keep trying with those changes." Isabel had mercifully cut Claire off, much to Em's relief. Sometimes those calls lasted too long, and threatened to lose the rest of her listening audience. "Who do we have next?"

  "We have Harriet from Seattle, a first-time caller. Welcome to Heart Therapy, Harriet, you're on with Doctor Emma."

  "Am I on the air?" A nervous voice chimed over the line.

  "Yes, you are, Harriet. Don't be nervous. Tell us about your issue."

  "Um...I'm single, see? I've ... I've always been single. And I — I just feel like I can't be anymore, you know what I mean? I'm twenty-six, and practically nobody has ever noticed me —"

  "Loneliness is a hard battle, Harriet. It's brave of you to admit it, since most sufferers hide it. And by 'most sufferers' I mean 'most people on the planet.' So you're not alone in this."

  Something in the misery of this girl's voice was making Em think of long-ago Charles. Charles, lovelorn and unreachable, still haunting her a little in moments like this.

  "I don't have anyone to talk to. I mean, everyone I know's in a relationship, or just came out of one. They just don't understand what it's like, Doctor Emma. What it's like to feel unloveable."

  "I'm sure you're not unloveable, Harriet."

  "But I feel like I might be. Like since it's never happened, there's nothing about me that would make somebody else happy..."

  "That's not true."

  "I don't know..."

  "Well, I do, Harriet —"

  "Excuse me, Miss Benton, pardon my intrusion on your apparent advice to this caller, but it is impossible for you to know that. In a less-than-literal sense of that nonexistent word you've both been using, I'm sure you're aware that it isn't impossible for someone to be 'unloveable' in terms of how surrounding people view them."

  It was Doctor Ferris's voice on the air. He had signaled for Isabel to let him join in, although Em knew this was the last thing Isabel expected him to say afterwards, given the expression on her producer's face. Their eyes met for a second, during which moment she read the cluelessness in Isabel's.

  Em recovered herself almost instantly. "What Doctor Ferris means, Harriet," she said, quickly, "is that some people in society are less accepting of others' flaws —"

  "I don't know..." Harriet sounded doubtful. "I think ..."

  "What I meant is, the presence of self pity and low self-esteem in this caller could create a chemical and psychological aversion in others. We're programmed as a species to detect and avoid those qualities when we form social bonds."

  "Are you saying that I really do repel the people around me? Like, repel men?" The girl's voice on the line sounded upset now.

  "Harriet, I'm sure you have many wonderful qualities, and people in your life who appreciate them," Em said, firmly. "I think you're selling yourself short when it comes to the possibility of relationships, and that, yes, would definitely cause possible romantic partners to turn shy around you —"

  "Which is a polite way of saying that you are possibly the obstacle to your happiness, caller, and it won't be changed by someone telling you to imagine it away." Her annoying guest was on the air again. She glanced at Izzy's face, where an equally disbelieving pair of eyes met her own. Where did he get off saying this to her caller?

  "Excuse me, Doctor Ferris, but your opinion isn't the one Harriet phoned in to hear."

  "I'm only trying to offer this caller some advice with an actual basis in human psychology and relationships, which I feel is grounded in the reality of what she's facing." He pronounced this matter-of-factly.

  Em's swift, cutthroat motions for Izzy to kill his mic had come through with the producer's thumbs up. "Doctor Ferris's opinion of your situation and my own are very different, Harriet. So let me assure you that I think confidence will help you more than anything. And more than just imagining it, let's commit you to believing in yourself as a valuable person."

  A long pause. A noisy exhale of breath on the line. "Well...okay. I guess I can try." From the sound of Harriet's voice, she wouldn't be trying hard anytime soon.

  "You can do this for me, Harriet. And for everybody who thinks they're insignificant, but has so much more to offer. Look deep inside and find that part of you, Harriet, and hold onto it. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Thank you so much for calling. After the break, we'll hear from our next caller, and stay tuned for our special interview segment in the second half."

  Izzy had cued the commercial from her booth, the 'on air' light momentarily dark. Em pulled off her headphones. "You're not on the air for another half hour, Doctor Ferris. Feel free to tour the station in the meantime. Get some coffee. Browse the magazines in the lobby for awhile."

  "Would this be because I spoke to your caller?" Colin Ferris's features had shifted in what Em could only assume was a change of emotion — not that there was much sign of it in that wooden expression.

  "Guests typically don't participate in our call-in segment. So let's just say it's for the best that you find something else to do, all right?" Em's smile wasn't sincere with these words. "So leave now, if you don't mind. Or, if you prefer, you can sit here in boredom and silence for the next twenty or so minutes."

  "All right." He crossed his arms and settled more comfortably in his chair, gazing at the wall again.

  She could make him leave. But that didn't seem worth it. With a quiet sigh of her own, Em slipped her headphones on again. The corner of her eye was still trained on her bored guest. If it wasn't for that stony frown, he might almost be good-lo
oking. Even so, she'd rather stare at the potted ficus tree in the corner.

  "And we're back. Who's our next caller, Isabel?"

  "Nathan from Muncie is on the line, Doctor Emma."

  For the next twenty minutes, Colin Ferris was mercifully silent. After the mid-show break, Isabel gave her the signal. The red light blinked to life again, and Em drew a deep breath.

  "Listeners who tuned in for the first half of the show know we have a special guest in the studio today. Doctor Colin Ferris, author of the best-selling self-help book Relationship Realities: Dating Truths for Modern Men with Traditional Manners. Thanks so much for being here today, Doctor Ferris."

  "It's a pleasure, Miss Benton." Nothing in his voice suggested this was true. From the booth, Em saw Isabel roll her eyes with despair over the fourth 'Miss Benton' uttered on the air.

  "Please, tell us about your work."

  "There's not a great deal to say. It's a frank and honest essay on modern romantic relationships and the challenges for men who are traditionally-inclined on the subject of dating."

  "Traditionally-inclined. That means ...old-fashioned, I assume?"

  Colin Ferris's tone was dry. "The guide is geared towards men who prefer traditional aspects of chivalry common in relationships of the past. Certain public and private gestures of thoughtfulness, or certain acts of respect towards their romantic partner. In other words, gentlemen."

  At this point, she couldn't imagine Doctor Ferris as an expert on politeness or chivalry — not that it mattered, since it wasn't her place to judge his qualifications, was it? "Your book has certainly drawn more than enough fans since its release ... and its fair share of critics. What do you say to those who argue that your book is a throwback to male chauvinism — or the nicer ones who simply say it's a nice thought, but unrealistic?"

  She had looked up a handful of reviews the previous night also, reading some of its critics' more scathing comments. A return to the era of coats spread on muddy streets and handkerchiefs presented by ladies.... Every male chauvinist's guide to putting women on pedestals.... Advice for a dying breed of humanity — one not far removed from the Neanderthal in terms of how it defines gender roles in relationships. She'd made a note to herself to read it someday — but that day could wait after meeting the author, she decided.