The Ex Talk(65)

“Now it’s a problem, though,” I say. “Because I really want it to happen again.”

“Is there a reason it can’t? Or that it shouldn’t?” TJ asks.

Ameena points at him. “What he said.”

“Because the whole conceit of the show is that we’re not dating? And besides, maybe I only like him because I’m not supposed to. Maybe that’s what makes it exciting.”

“People can get back together,” TJ says. “The listeners might even love that.”

“I thought about that,” I admit. Fleetingly, on the ride home, while working on my second hangnail. “But things are going too well with the show to jeopardize it. Doing anything with Dominic . . . being a real couple. I can’t see how it wouldn’t mess shit up. Unless—unless we somehow managed to keep it casual.”

Casual—the thing that Dominic doesn’t do. And given my history, there’s a risk I’d cling, and he’s only twenty-four. Simple relationship statistics, many of which fill up my computer’s search history—hazard of hosting a dating show—indicate he wouldn’t be clinging back.

“And you’re good at it.” Ameena frowns, tucking a strand of her long dark hair behind one ear. “This might be a stupid question, but is there any chance the two of you could come clean?”

“No. It would be a disaster. We’ve already hooked a couple sponsors, and Kent hinted that we might—” I swallow, trying not to get my hopes up. “That we might have a chance at PodCon.”

TJ lets out a low whistle. “Shit, that’s huge. You think you can get Marc Maron’s autograph for me?”

Ameena whacks his arm with a circle skirt. “You haven’t talked about someone like this in a while,” she says quietly. “I know the whole thing is inconvenient, but you’re already pretending to be exes. It sounds like a lot to keep pretending you feel differently about him on top of all that.” There’s something in her voice that sounds a little like judgment.

“It’s my career,” I say, harder edged than I intend. “I can’t just throw it all away for a guy.”

“You’re right,” she says, her words threaded with frustration, and though TJ and I try our best to distract her with vintage dresses, she’s aloof the rest of the afternoon.



* * *



—

Steve is waiting at the door when I get home. Even after being with him all weekend, I’ve begun to look forward to his you didn’t abandon me excitement. He’ll run circles around the living room, and it takes a few laps for him to slow down enough for me to pet him.

I settle into the couch, scratching his ears, and it doesn’t sink in until I’ve been there for a while that I’m no longer eager for background noise. Some new pillows I bought last weekend add a spot of brightness to the room, and I even unpacked the moment I got home, throwing my dirty clothes in the washing machine. Not to mention having Steve’s stuff everywhere makes the place feel more lived-in, less sterile. Suddenly, I don’t hate being here.

Maybe I really was lonely.

Of course, that makes me think of Dominic. It aches when I picture him in his own apartment eating alone, drinking alone, watching TV alone. Climbing into bed and sleeping alone after two nights next to me.

Determined not to think about last night, I throw myself into researching our upcoming episodes. We’re planning one about jazzing up dating profiles, one about gender ratios in major cities, one about dating as a single parent, all with guests who are experts in their fields. I have to focus on the show. Like I told Ameena, I can’t risk my job after finally getting the chance to be on the air.

For three and a half more months, at least, according to my initial handshake with Dominic. Deep down, of course I’m hoping he loves the show enough to want to keep it up longer, especially if we get bigger sponsorship opportunities.

And yet the more I look through my notes, the more I find myself drawn to the one show that hasn’t been approved yet. I’ve done enough research to know that no topic in the dating landscape is truly unexplored. We’re just one of many, many podcasts that have traversed it. But what has always made radio so special to me is its ability to turn something intangible into something personal. To let someone tell a story only they can.

This grief show wouldn’t be breakthrough radio, I know that—but it would be mine.





23




“Why are there dildos in the newsroom?”

Marlene Harrison-Yates is waiting by my desk on Monday morning, hovering over a box of sex toys that seemingly appeared there overnight. There are matching boxes on Dominic’s and Ruthie’s desks.

“That is an excellent question,” I say, pushing the box out of the way to make room for my coffee and nearly knocking over Dominic’s master’s jar in the process.

“Sponsors,” Ruthie says, peeking up from her desk. “Well, hopeful sponsors. They sent this stuff so you’d, um, try it out”—she chokes on a laugh—“and then, if you like it, talk about it on the show.”

It’s not just sex toys. There’s also a lube-of-the-month subscription box, a pair of shoes made almost entirely from corn, and a set of organic bedsheets. I’m pretty sure we can’t talk about half this stuff on NPR.