"Every analysis of modern dating has its critics. Of course, I expected more than my fair share, given the nature of the subject. It would be dishonest of me to deny it."
"We're all about honesty on this show, Doctor Ferris."
"Yes," he answered dryly. "And empathy, it would seem. Which brings us back to the caller from earlier."
"Does it?" Em's voice was slightly curt. "I hardly think so."
"Far be it from me to question your show's sympathetic ear, but don't you think, in this case, it would be more helpful to suggest a long-term therapist for that young woman? She sounds ill-equipped to comprehend the reasons behind her emotional distress."
"I often recommend counselors and support groups to listeners," answered Em. "I'm sure listeners are more aware than you, Doctor Ferris, that my advice to Harriet wasn't meant as a cure, but as a starting point for change."
"Change into what, Miss Benton?"
"I think Doctor Emma is trying to make the point that this show is about taking the first step," intervened Izzy, helpfully. She offered Em a conspiratorial smile.
"Not to offend you or your producer, Miss Benton, but I think the first step for this young woman, given her apparent emotional denial, may demand something bigger than her public confession over the radio. Fifteen seconds of shame, as critics call it."
"Are you saying that everyone who asks for help from a radio therapist is making a cheap cry for attention?" she shot back.
He seemed startled. For a fraction of a second, uncomfortable. "No, not at all," he answered. "I'm questioning the odds of callers helping themselves more than the desire for it. Questioning how realistic it is that many of them have the strength to actually help themselves after publicly exposing their problems."
It was Em's turn for a moment of shock. "A reassuring voice matters when someone is struggling, Doctor Ferris. Are you arguing with that?"
Don't be angry, she told herself. She tried to imagine what listeners would think about hearing her voice grow more passionate by the second.
"Are you arguing with the idea that it makes sense for your caller to be realistic about her own limitations or weaknesses?" he countered. "I'm not suggesting she doesn't deserve to feel better —"
"Feeling better is sometimes all it takes for someone to face circumstances and change their life. Or face problems that seem too big to handle at first glance."
"Let's be honest about it — honesty is the point of your show, after all." Sarcasm dripped from the last half of this sentence. "That young woman's problem was expressed in a handful of sentences, all of which indicated she was desperately looking for validation from the world — she's clinging to a straw in a cruel world of indifference, without understanding the real reasons she's struggling."
Em bristled. "She's not asking me, or any other radio therapist, to make that call for her yet. She simply wants reassurance that the answer is out there, and that she will find it when she's ready."
"Which you gave her, regardless of whether she's capable of understanding it, or helping herself."
"And you're aware of her circumstances? Her strengths and limitations? Which is why your advice is so much more qualified than mine?" Emma challenged.
"I didn't offer her advice, only statements on possible personality types, which any qualified therapist would assess. And I'm using the term 'therapist' in its traditional sense, not as a substitute for the word 'host,' for which it seems a popular substitute in radio these days."
"There's no reason to be subtle. I don't pretend to have a degree, Doctor Ferris. Only a gift for listening to people's problems on their own terms, which, apparently, escapes some licensed counselors."
"Meaning me?"
"Meaning you and dozens of others who are practicing in the field." Her voice rose, despite her usual self-control. "Don't you agree that feeling connected to someone who offers help — as opposed to affronted by them — makes people more open?"
"I made no assumptions about your degree, Miss Benton. I'm not a — practicing therapist." Doctor Ferris cleared his throat with this statement. "As my biography clearly states, my career was largely academic before the book."
"I think that's fairly obvious without reading your bio," answered Em, sweetly. "But I'm sure listeners will understand that being able to write about relationships is different from talking to others about them. Or having one yourself, for that matter. Are you in a relationship?" she added, glancing at Doctor Ferris with this question.
She could see Izzy grin behind the glass, a thumbs up for 'good shot' in response to this remark.
"No. I'm not." His voice was brusque. "My career's pace doesn't allow me to have that sort of ... of personal connection."
"Yet, you've written a book telling others how to make that connection?"
"Experience is hardly a qualifying reason to counsel others. By that token, unless you've experienced the full range of human relationships and their failures, you are unqualified to help them."
"Me, personally? Or everyone? Because I've never made that claim about experience."
"So what claim do you make that qualifies you, Miss Benton?" He raised his eyebrows mildly as he gazed at her.
"I think my listeners could better answer that question than me, Doctor Ferris. I would hate to say anything that would give my audience the impression that I have a sense of self-importance."
Doctor Ferris was going to retaliate — but Isabel had already cut him off. From the corner of her eye, Em could see his consternation when he realized his attempt at reply wasn't being aired.
"Thank you for your insights, and for taking the time to stop by today, Doctor Ferris. We look forward to your next book." Em's voice had returned to its normal broadcast tones. "That's all we have time for today. You've been listening to Heart Therapy, and I'm Doctor Emma, wishing you all the best in pursuit of a positive, modern relationship."
"And we're clear," announced Isabel.
Em pulled off her headphones. Beside her, Colin Ferris did the same as he rose. "Miss Benton —" he began.
Em was shrugging on her blazer, gathering her shoulder bag — anything to seem busy until the moment her so-called 'guest' was out of sight. She left the room and entered the sound booth, closing the door behind her.
"What was that?" asked Isabel.
"I don't know. Maybe he's just a colossal snob, or — or a male chauvinist." Her mind flew to the critics' snarkier comments.
"And if it wasn't for all those cold fish stares, he'd be sexy," said Isabel, gazing through the glass.
"Sexy?" echoed Em. "I don't think so." She wrinkled her nose as she followed Izzy's stare. Maybe it was possible if you could completely overlook his manners. A well-formed jaw, a muscular physique, a shock of dark hair — no, it wasn't enough. The shape of his features might as well be points on an iceberg.
"Well, he's not Frank, but still..." Isabel smiled. "But after ripping our show, I hope his would-be critics call him a toad next time."
On the other side of the glass, Doctor Ferris was standing awkwardly in the studio. Not leaving, Em noted. Maybe he thought there was something more to this process. The adulation of fans gathering outside the studio, for instance.
"He's not leaving, so I'll go show him the door," said Em, shouldering her bag. The lights on the caller's board were ablaze like Christmas.
"Oh, yeah," Isabel grinned mischievously. "It's been that way since the exchange started getting dicey. Half are your supporters, half are newcomers who think every radio therapist is a hack cashing in on desperate losers."
"Great," said Em. "Have them call back tomorrow and leave their therapists' numbers so I can hand them out to future callers." She closed the sound booth door behind her.
"The show is over, Doctor Ferris, so you're free to go. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that." Her smile was flat as she faced him. His hands were tucked in his pockets, his tie straightened from the loosened knot of a moment before. Loosened in the midst of their debate
? Em couldn't remember — or imagine it was likely, either.
He cleared his throat noisily before speaking. "I should apologize if my approach seemed curt to you," he said, frowning. "Or maybe 'forward' is a better description. And for the discomfort or embarrassment you might have experienced from my remarks."
Now that he was on the threshold and obviously in the act of leaving, she should make an effort. An apology was an apology after all. She softened ever so slightly. "Apology accepted," Em answered. "Some people simply have differences."
"Nevertheless, it's disconcerting, I have no doubt, to have an actual therapist challenge your response on your show," he said.
Em's smile froze for a fraction of a second. Did he actually just say that — insult her like that — on purpose? She didn't let the smile disappear from her face afterwards.
"Don't worry, Doctor Ferris. When face to face with embarrassing things, I always choose to laugh at them directly. And, to that end —" Here, Em's speech ended as she leaned closer to him and let out a peal of mocking laughter before closing the studio door between them.
"What an insufferable prig," she muttered.
Chapter Three
There were three messages on Em's phone the next morning. One from Isabel, telling her that the exchange had made their rival station's deejay duo's local recap show, Radio Rewind. One from her mother, desperate to relate some piece of distressing news and demanding Em phone her back immediately. And one from Bill Lucas's assistant, telling her to come to his office before lunchtime.
"Doctor Emma! Good show yesterday — the phones rang off the hook. Off the hook! People couldn't stop talking about it. About you, about the whole tension between you —"
"I'm sorry about that, sir," Em answered. "Believe me, I know how it must have sounded."
She was seated across from the beaming radio station manager. Isabel was also present for this meeting, along with a couple of public relations reps from the station.
"It sounded fantastic!" Lucas clapped his hands together, as if applauding her. "Bravo, Doctor Emma! We want conversation; we want people talking about your show. And that's why everybody wants the two of you back together again."
"What?" Em replied. She was startled by this reply.
"You. Him. Together on your show, or a separate format. Debating what therapy truly is. It'll be brilliant, just ask your producer. The two of you together are like ice and fire. Maybe that's what we should call it."
"I think that one might be taken already, sir," answered Isabel from her position near the doorway. She hid a smile with these words.
"All right, then. Something else. Doesn't matter what, so long as it's the two of you and sparks flying in the heat of debate."
"What? No. No, sir. My show is — isn't a format for that kind of thing —" began Em in protest. "Surely the station realizes that our everyday audience would be marginalized by fewer call-in opportunities."
Doctor Colin Ferris invading her show? Sitting in the studio with her week after week — and for how long? Em could feel her heart sink through the floor, as if horror had taken the form of rocks piled within it.
"It doesn't have to be Heart Therapy. No, maybe we'll team up with one of our media partners for this. Some news program, some debate show on WMZ. What's the name of that TV show — the current affairs one where all those politicians debate each other?" He glanced at one of the P.R. reps.
"In the Moment," piped up the female rep in glasses.
"That's the one, yes. The two of you, the host to moderate, and a whole hour to keep the audience glued to their seats with fascination. We'll make it — what? Three weeks for the whole project? Six? I like six."
Over a month of misery spent defending her work from his opinion! How could she survive it?
"Or, better yet, helping someone specific. Helping Harriet." Bill Lucas was still talking, she realized. He glanced at one of the reps. "Wasn't that the caller from yesterday afternoon? Harriet, the lonely girl from Seattle?" The murmurs of agreement in response halted Em's miserable train of thought.
"She's local, she's in trouble, she wants a guy. Perfect. Who better to help her than Seattle's number-one relationship therapist and a best-selling author of a book on guys and dating rules?"
"Wonderful idea, sir," the male rep in the tie was talking now. "I think that may be the best part of the whole campaign yet."
"You two will work with her. Fix her love life, help her soul search and find that perfect mate, or whatever. Like matchmakers fixing up Cinderella, only you're giving her an emotional makeover instead. Starting on the first — that'll give the producers a week to fix things up, build a website, et cetera...during which time you can push the thing on your show. Create anticipation."
Em found her voice again. "He'll never agree," she said. "Doctor Ferris is extremely uncomfortable on the air. And he would really, really hate the idea of getting stuck with me again."
"No problem there," answered Lucas. "He's already signed on for this. We were just waiting for you."
When she emerged from Lucas's office, her heart was pounding. Lucas hadn't noticed her distress, thank heavens, which had been increasing the longer she listened to this idea take form.
No, no, no. Surely there was some way to stop this from happening. It didn't seem possible that the same person who had sat in her broadcast booth yesterday would actually say 'yes' to this proposal.
Isabel emerged behind her. "It was the easiest way out, Em," she said. "I did not want to hand over our show, and this was the only compromise Lucas would accept."
"That doesn't make it any easier," Em answered. "You know that, right?"
"Think of it as great public relations," answered Isabel. "A great boost for the show. I know you can hold your own against this guy. Sympathy will be with you, anyway, since he's got all the charm of a goblin king."
"Six weeks, Iz! There's no way I can endure that. It's just so ... so frustrating that no one would listen. I just can't do it, Isabel." Em turned away and began walking — blindly, although it was in the general direction of the studio elevator and escape from the building.
"So what are you going to do?"
"Get out of it somehow."
"How?"
"I don't know. I'll think of something. Anything will do right now."
The phone in her hand buzzed with an incoming tweet. On the screen, Isabel's name, and a phone number below. The number for Colin Ferris.
"There's his number," said Isabel. "Call him and maybe you can talk him out of it."
"I intend to." Em began punching the numbers on her phone's keypad.
"Doctor Ferris? This is Emma Benton — I'm sure you remember me. We need to talk."
*****
He was waiting for her at the restaurant. A noisier spot than Em would normally pick, but it was the closest lunch spot to the station. He looked out of place in his suit and tie — did he ever wear anything else? — as he sat at a table for two in the middle of the skylight dining area.
She exhaled deeply, then approached. "Doctor Ferris," she said, sliding into the chair across from him.
"I was surprised by this invitation —" he began, but Em didn't let him finish.
"Look, doctor, I won't waste your time. I asked to meet you here because I want to change your mind about agreeing to this — this ludicrous suggestion by the station to pit us against each other on the air again."
Behind those square-framed glasses, she saw a flicker of surprise in the dark eyes. "You do," he stated, flatly. "I would have thought the suggestion would have appealed to you."
"Well, it doesn't," she answered. "I have to confess, I'm astonished you actually agreed to do it. Did you? Or did I misunderstand my boss?"
"I did," he answered, calmly.
"Then you want us to be paired up for some kind of matchmaking contest?" Em's voice couldn't contain either her disgust or astonishment.
"No. Of course not," he answered, sounding equally revolted for a spli
t-second. "I think it's a horrible idea. But I can't refuse. My agent insists. I'm not the easiest client to engage in public relations, so I'm rather limited now on what I can refuse."
That he regretted refusing less repulsive ideas than this one was evident in his voice. Em, however, didn't soften towards him in response.
"You hate the idea also, I gather?" he asked, dryly.
"Hate is a strong word. But maybe not strong enough." A shadow of a grin on Em's face before she grew serious again. "No, it's better than cheapening my show with a gimmick. But the thought of us paired up together for six weeks, like the psychology version of What Not to Wear..."
"Six weeks? I thought it was eight. Thank God." Her lunch companion's stony expression relaxed slightly.
"Feeling better?"
"A little, Miss Benton."
"You really should stop calling me that." Em hesitated. "Enough with the formalities. Since we're going to be working together for awhile, you should call me something else."
"I'm not calling you 'Doctor Emma,'" he answered, with a slight grimace.
"Fine." She shrugged. "Emma is good, or Emmy —" She saw him blench again at this second suggestion, "Or Emma," she concluded, politely — if by a thread.
"Emma, then," he answered.
"And I'll call you Colin. Is that all right?"
With a twinge of pain, she thought of an old joke of her father's, about calling him any name in the book, just don't call him her mother's husband. Maybe Doctor Ferris found it insulting, to have a quack-psychiatry radio therapist call him by his first name. If so, he showed no sign of it this time.
"Of course," he answered. "Apparently, we're colleagues now." He said it in a tone of voice that made it sound like a bad joke. "In that spirit, Emma, I think we're in agreement on three subjects. First, that this project is barbaric. Second, that we're hardly qualified to be meddling in this young woman's love life. Third, that we both want to get through this as quickly and gracefully as possible, for the sake of our respective careers."
Emma Knows All Page 3