It could happen (3)
I sit in the studio, flipping through the day’s prep while waiting for the last set of commercials to irritate loyal listeners everywhere. My producer prompts me at the 30-second mark, gives me the thumbs up, and quietly leaves. Many OAPs I know depend on their producers like a crutch, but I never have developed that habit. I preferred to cocoon myself from everyone around. I feel a deep connection to the people who faithfully listen in when I’m on, and being alone reinforces the sense of intimacy I seek to project – and imagine I receive in return. The station managers pretty much let me do my own thing, as long as I abide loosely to their notions of broadcasting and, let’s face it, as long as the audience likes it. That translates into advertising revenue for them, so everybody’s happy.
My feelings about working in radio vary from time to time, usually depending on what I’m going through. It’s a great feeling to play love songs for hours and talk about the beauty of being in love when you are actually in love, or at least steadfastly optimistic. But when you’re going through a nasty break-up, or pretty much at the point where you want to give up on love altogether…the word “chore” becomes an understatement. How do you inspire people with words you don’t even believe yourself? How do you give hope when you yourself are hope-less? Talk about the blind leading the blind. Sometimes, though, I find that my feelings change in the course of a show as my melancholy mood lifts. The words of the songs I carefully select to heal others in turn begin a gentle ministration…proclaiming the possibilities of a future that belies the past. I love music. I try not to think about the sordid mess the singers make of their love lives…after all, the same could be said of me.
Today is one of those days when I love my work…meaning it feels nothing like work to me. I have at my fingertips the means to express my thoughts to – hopefully – millions of people. And to one person in particular.
******
“…Your heart’s been broken so many times there’s barely enough pieces left to call it a heart. And it’s worse when you are, or at least think you are, the one to blame for your own loneliness. Isn’t it amazing that through all of that, something can and sometimes does happen that gets you dreaming again…feeling again…Something happens…someone shows up…and like Melissa, you want to be in love…”
I take off my headphones and turned the monitors up…letting the words of this indescribably beautiful song hold me in their embrace. The chorus had brought me to tears many times. Frustration…fear…loneliness…But today, all I felt was hope.
In front of total strangers won't you kiss me
Flowers for no reason but you miss me
Oh…. I wanna be in love
You're standing on the doorstep in the rain
Cos you couldn't wait to see me once again
Oh oh I want to be in love
******
I smile to myself as I make my way out of the studio. I am a relentless perfectionist in my craft…my own worst critic. And even I had to admit this had been a good show. I know it’s good when I my unrehearsed words spring from inside of me. Today, I got as good as I hope I gave, and I am grateful.
“Good one, Danny!” My producer, Sandra smiles at me.
“Thanks…it felt good.” I smile back. Another person who’s judgment I trust.
“So…that Melissa thing…anything you want to share?” her eyes twinkle with mischief. I am not surprised. She’s worked with me for years, even switching stations at my request, and knows me pretty well by now. I used to have a mini-crush on her…and I am glad I never acted on it. I guess you could call her my longest-running relationship. Friendship is a relationship.
“Come on Sandra…I just got caught up in the music. Don’t start reading anything into it. At least,” I wink at her, “not yet.”
“I’m going to need a few more details than that eventually, you know.” She laughs. “Go on…get out of here, “Melissa”…your guest’s been waiting for ever.” She walk away before I fully grasp the fact that I have a visitor. I head over to the station’s OAP lounge, a cozy little set-up furnished to stroke our egos, and yet provide practical comfort to compensate for crazy working hours.
******
I walk in to find her staring intently at the who’s who pictures of the station’s “star” presenters, prominently displayed and covering an entire wall. My pulse quickens, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. Must appear casual. Must not be too intense. Must not kiss her. Hell, must not rip off her clothes and take her right there. But God, she is beautiful.
“Jill?” She turns to me with a smile…and what a smile it is. “This is…a surprise.”
“Good or bad?” she teases.
“Oh, definitely good. Great. I mean…” I falter.
“I know what you mean.” A pause. I’m at a loss for words here, people. Pretty ironic, considering what I do. So I look at the picture she was staring at…and she follows my gaze back to it.
“I had no idea that’s what the infamous John Doe looked like. I must say it’s almost a let down…doesn’t fit his voice…or his rhetoric.” I try to see my colleague through her eyes. A smallish man with an aggressive and controversial bent.
“Well, you know…he’s really a sweetheart. Every station needs a bad guy since Howard Stern…it’s all an act.” She moves over to my picture. I had initially resisted having one put up…I didn’t want to lose my anonymity. If I want people to recognize me visually, I’d simply move over to television.
“Now you,” she turns back to me, raising a hand to my cheek, “You definitely look the way you sound. Especially the way you sounded today.” I give in and take her hand, moving it to my lips and kissing her fingers gently. She takes a sharp breath, and her eyes widen.
“And how exactly do I sound?” I caress her fingers, sliding them through mine. She drops her eyes, seemingly embarrassed.
“Oh…you know.”
“Tell me.”
She looks up…and I see the desire in her eyes. I think she can see it in mine.
“Sexy….sweet…”
“Hmm…like you said…it’s my job to sound sexy. Could be I’m another John Doe.” She laughs then. The intensity of the moment we just shared lightens up. A little.
“Are you, er, done for the night?”
“Yes…why? I ask, curious.
“I thought we could go have a drink or something. If you’re not too tired.”
“Tired? Lady, I’ll have you know I just finished 3 hours of talking and playing music…I’m wrecked.” She looks disappointed for a second, and then realizes I am teasing her.
“Well, ha-ha. Get your stuff and let’s go, John”
“Nothing to get…I’m all yours.” I smile “There is something, though.”
“What?” she tilts her head as she asks me this, making my job a whole lot easier. I lean forward and press my lips to hers. Jill’s arms slide around me, clutching me to her. Our tongues meet for the first time, and I suddenly want to lay down and cry…Her hands roam across my back before settling on my neck. She tastes like my future.
When we pull apart, I look down into her eyes.
“Hi. I’m glad you came.”
