Chapter VII

“Welcome everyone to the first talk radio airing of Steady Machine, I’m your host Frankie Bloom and I’d like to talk about many things this lovely afternoon. As you sit there in your cars going ten miles an hour trying to make it home to your loved ones or, your dog, I want to take you on a journey that will not only leave you enlightened but optimistic that maybe one day these damn construction workers will get it right and add more lanes to the highway.”

I could see out of the corner of my eye Mr. Young smirking as I queued the gag reel and couldn’t help but exhale a major sigh of relief. I’d really did it.

“Anyways as I was saying –“ Shit, what was I saying?

I paused a brief moment and I could feel my heart stop beating. I’d forgotten my opener. My opener that I’d practiced on for months on end; in my car, in the shower, with Chloe, hell I could say it in my sleep but now, with that insignificant second of distraction I’d forgotten every last word in that damn five minute paragraph.

“Uh,” I fumbled around my counter for my cards, where the hell did I put them?! Darting my eyes from left to right I could feel the sweat building up on my forehead, my heart had regained energy and was now pulsating at ample speed in my ear drums. Mr. Young’s smirk had vanished.

“Oh!” THERE! Under the damn ashtray I’d picked up from the floor was my note cards, instinctively I gathered them in my hands and read the opener.

“Right, so, as I was saying, starting with the first topic of course folks, it’s the hell you just crawled out from and will return bright and early back to tomorrow: Work!” I slap the applause button.

“That’s right, I wanna know right now all those evil thoughts and aggressions you hide and desperately tried to cover up about your job. Wither it be about your Boss, your co-workers, or just your position I wanna hear it! Ninth caller of course gets the hourly giveaway prize this radio station is well known which today is two smokin’ hot tickets to see the greasy haired grunge band, Pearl Jam playing this Saturday at Shredder’s Pub.

I don’t wanna keep you guys waiting any longer with the tunes so let’s start the kick off of your ungodly long wait with some heavy stuff. Take it away boys!” I started up the first song of the playlist and shut off my microphone. Within seconds Mr. Young catapulted through the door.

“Blooming! Wonderful! You almost didn’t fuck up! I always knew you had it in you boy!”

I couldn’t muster enough strength to say anything so my gratitude for him not coming in here and strangling me to death was a smile across my exhausted face. Mr. Young returned it with a pat on my shoulder.

I get up from my chair and head to the restroom trying to calm my nerves, doing my passion shouldn’t be this stressful. As I approach the water fountain I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen, it’s Chloe.

“Hey, Beautiful.” I greet her with a calm tone but I wanted to scream the words at the top of my lungs.

“You did wonderful, Baby!” Chloe exclaimed back to me “I heard every word and you didn’t miss a single one! Why was there a pause though might I ask?” I could see the grin on her face in my mind.

“Well my love,” I began coyly “as a disc jockey I have to also add suspense to my dialogue, I constantly have to keep my audience waiting for more.”

“Oh is that so?” she retorts back to me.

“Yes my darling, it’s a dirty job, someone’s gotta do it.”

“I’m pretty sure you used this exact conversation with me when we first started dating. Only it wasn’t an audience it was just me.” I could hear her fighting back the urge to laugh.

“You know, I believe you’re right. But look at that. It worked.” I confess.

“Yes my darling, it sure did.”

Chapter VI

I remember the moment I held my daughter in my arms for the very first time. It was a sunny Wednesday a quarter pass noon that day. Chloe had just endured close to 16 hours in labor, me on the other hand, had endured an elaborate verbally abusive car ride and was about ready to believe that she was never really pregnant this entire time until the doctor announced enthusiastically “Just one more push Chloe and you’re a mama!”

            Of course then, upon hearing my daughter take her first breath and cried out to the world announcing her existence that my legs felt unable to support my body any longer. Droplets of sweat began to formulate across my forehead and my salvia retreated from my mouth leaving me helpless. There was no one else there that could be the –

            “Here you are Papa!” proclaimed our doctor as she handed my child over to me.

            It all happened so slowly in my mind. My daughter’s lips opening and closing, her eyes shut so tightly, her legs and arms swatting the air around her. All of this happening in such detail while her body nearing my trembling hands. And then, she was a part of me. I felt her life connect with my very own. Once our daughter settled down from crying I imperceptibly walked over to Chloe trying my hardest not to disturb her and we both peered at our beloved creation.

            Chloe glanced up at me, her hair damped from labor and eyes dazed with exhaustion “What shall we name her, honey?”

            I kiss her on the forehead and glanced back down at my daughter. Every event in my life that ever made me question if my existence was of any real meaning or purpose, anytime I felt the clouds of despair sailing above me were all now irrelevant and consisted of little to no depth in my life now. All I felt every time I looked down upon her was…

            “Joy.”

Chapter V

I was just finishing up my cigarette on my break when Mr. Young burst through the door.

“God damn it Blooming! Get your ass back inside here now; you’re on the air in five god damn minutes!”

“Shit!” I exhaled my smoke and flicked my bud into the street. With a shuffle of my shoulders to adjust my jacket I rushed back inside.

“Here.” Mr. Young opened the door for me and a blast of warm air calmed my nerves.

I couldn’t believe I was about to have my first show of Steady Machine. I had worked on the topics for weeks now to discuss on air. The written jokes and forced sarcasm just in case things became too dead with my first special guest, the famous Wionna Ryder. I had requested for Courtney Love but Mr. Young almost had a heart attack screaming about budgets and asking who the hell I thought I was.

“Thanks” I mumbled as I squeezed past him.

“What?!” he screamed at me. By then I was use to Mr. Young never saying anything at a decent volume.

“I said thanks” I answered back a little louder this time.

“Jesus Blooming speak up! You’re a talk show host for god sakes!” and he shut the door on me before I could say anything back.

I sat down in my chair, it was so worn in from previous visitors that the cushion was pretty much unnoticeable. There was an ashtray already set on my table right next to my headphones.

I remember thinking; this is it. This is my fifteen minutes of fame. I’m the only one responsible for messing this up.

I picked up the headphones and slowly placed them onto my head. It was like stepping into a whole new universe. Everything I saw around me moved at a much hindered pace. The trees blowing outside of my window moved in blurs. The cars passing by looked stagnate and worthless.

“BLOOMING!”

Mr. Young’s voice startled me so bad I jumped knocking the ashtray off my desk. Luckily it was empty as it tumbled to the carpet.

“wh-wha-yes!” it was all I could manage to get out of me.

Mr. Young was speaking into the microphone in the studio which I was hearing loudly from my headphones “I know you’re excited but get it together kid! We need to do a mic check and we gotta do it fast. There is only so much traffic report people want to hear while stuck in traffic. Gimme somethin’”

I looked at him dumbfounded.

“Blooming. Talk into the damn microphone.”

“Oh. Uh.” I was speechless, for the first time in years. Well, not including my moments with Chloe. I leaned into the microphone “Testing?”

“Beautiful.” Mr. Young sighs “Lets get this over with. You’re on your own from here until the end Blooming. If you need any sort of help just wave, we’ll standby and make sure you sound some what likeable.”

“Thanks?”

As Mr. Young started the countdown with his fingers there were not sounds coming from his voice, well at least in my mind there were not, only his tiny pointy fingers folding into his palm until only his index remained.

This was it.

Chapter IV

Chloe told me one early Sunday morning as we lay in bed together that she wanted a baby. I remember it so well, the sun was slowly shining through our bedroom windows adjacent to our bed and it made her lavender scented skin sparkle like diamonds. She had bed hair that looked like a stylist first touched it up. She had a look in her eyes that was calm with a slight hint of urgency. I was petrified.

I rolled over to her slowly with a lying grin on my face, searching my mind for the nicest way to say no. The silence remained instead, and she got the answer in it.

She got up from the bed so abruptly that by the time her side of the covers settled down she was slamming the door to our bathroom.

I stood outside the door for nearly an hour telling her endlessly how sorry I was, how I wasn’t ready to be a father, how I thought she wasn’t ready to be a mother and how I reasoned we weren’t ready to be parents.

Then came the silence again. Followed by tears.

When she finally opened the door, I was sitting on the end of the bed in defeat.  I looked up at her and my mouth fell open. She was standing at the doorway, naked. Crying. Beautiful.

“Do you really think that?” she whispered to me.

“I. I don’t know what I think.” I answered.

Chloe gradually walked closer to me, with every step I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Her hair flowing. Her eyes puffy. She leaned down to me, her face now inches from mine. Her lips plump and red.

We made love that whole Sunday. Three weeks later Chloe missed her period and was pregnant.

Chapter III

Fast forward ten years later; I am working an internship at my local radio station. I spent the last four years of my life and thousands of my father’s money to get a piece of paper that says I have a Bachelor’s in some bullshit career to end up busting my ass, for free, at this asshole’s company.

Boy bands and illegal women wearing legal women’s clothing have replaced Nirvana. I have been reduced to cutting my hair, shaving, wearing a tie, driving a Volkswagen and conforming into a Yuppie. This is just the beginning of growing up. My boss, Dan, is this five foot three inches mid balding man, who subjects me to staring down at him literally. Every morning I ask that prick if I can get a time slot to broadcast a talk show I’d been creating in my mind that had to do with absolutely nothing, it would just be me basically discussing, along with callers and special guests, about daily life issues and of course our wonderful government. Nevertheless, every morning, I get the same answer from this piece of shit delusional authority Smurf.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me Blooming? No one would waste their time in their car listening to a damn thing you say out of that sordid voice of yours.”

“You don’t understand Dan-“

“It’s Mr. Young to you punk.”

“Sorry, Mr. Young, you don’t understand Radio is changing, people want to hear more talk and less of the same songs being played every other hour if they’re lucky.”

“Look Blooming. Times are changing, but not in that perspective. The average American spends maybe ten to fifteen mintues in their in route to whatever destination they are heading. No one, except teenagers who have nothing better to do than waste their parent’s hard-earned money on gas, has time to listen to some ‘dude’ whine about paying his taxes!”

“But there is always rush hour! Adults who have to sit in traffic and listen to ‘Hit me baby one more time’ more than once need someone in those dying hours to help them laugh and understand exactly what they are going through!”

Of course it always ends the same, him walking down the narrow hallway collecting forms from other interns, eventually arriving at his door and before slamming it upon my face, he turns, rolls his eyes in annoyance and glares “No!”

I never quit though. I never backed down, and in time, Dan had no other choice but to give me my air time, mainly because of the fact I wrote a very detailed letter to “The Man” explaining my points and that I’d worked at his shitty radio station for almost five years and it was either keep me or lose me.

I called my radio talk show “Steady Machine” after a favorite song of mine at the time, which now with age; I can no longer recall the band name. But I had my air time, and a daily special guest.

Chapter II

Before I get ahead of myself lets first go back to a brighter memory in my life. I had just turned 16, Nirvana was my favorite band and I was a Mainstream man in denial. My father had bought me a car, it was below a piece of shit, but I named her Millionaire because every time I drove her, that’s exactly how she made me feel. And that’s how I met my wife for the first time.

It was a usual rainy night and I was heading home from an old friends house, how funny it is that as years pass names fade along with it, Millionaire was on her last ride that night, she broke down about eight miles from my father’s house. I was already in no rush to get home since I was pass my curfew anyways, so I said my goodbyes to her and strolled the rest of the way. And that’s when she drove up. Well, more like, zoomed passed.

Her brakes flashed and then she reversed back to me. Rolling down her window, I remember it like it was yesterday. Everything stood still, even the rain falling on me. You never forget the moment you see the love of your life, is as if you’ve never seen the world before, and every tiny item you once thought was amazing is in competition to the one you’re captivated by now.

I can’t remember though, how long I stood there gazing like a total moron at her before she said hello.

“Need a ride?” she offered.

I grinned my shy smile that I’d grown accustom to over the years, I was never a man of many words just unnoticeable facial expressions and nodded.

She unlocked her door and the car light glowed onto her soft skin, it was almost like an ore surrounding her. Her brown hair glistening, her green eyes breath taking, and the smell of lavender that just never left my nose since then exploded from every inch of her.

Her name was Chloe and she was a year younger than I was. She was my all and I made it my goal to call her mine that very night. Of course, she had no idea of this in the five minutes we had just met, and because I had not said a word to her the whole car ride to my house except to tell her where to turn at and stop.

“Sweet dreams” she told me as I exited her truck.

I managed to mutter a yeah and closed her door. Walking up my front porch, I could still hear the engine of her truck behind me. I turned around to look at her once more, even in the rain I could make her out as clear as day.

“Frank!” I yelled to her.

I waited in the silence I heard her yell, “Chloe!” and she drove off.