The Magic of Us

Chapter One

Hurrying into the studio, already late, I tossed my bag and coat onto the nearest chair. I kicked off my shoes without a second thought, and they hit the wall with a soft thud.

“Easy there, tiger!” Ravi’s voice carried through the intercom from the sound booth. “We’ve already had to replace three mics this month thanks to your flying UGGs.”

I called over my shoulder at him while pantomiming, “No, see? My aim’s getting better. They completely sailed over the desk this time and hit the wall. All good.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his coffee mug, the words Probably Vodka emblazoned on the front, before taking a long, intentional sip.

I tried desperately to calm my sweat-kinked blowout and slid the familiar headphones over my ears, the soothing static hum drowning out the rest of the world.

“Okay, El, system’s all checked. You’re live in five. Remember, watch your time with the callers during the first segment. We’ve got a hard break at ten past for a sponsor mention and commercial.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it,” I said, adjusting the microphone, and racked the deck of index cards on the desk with a satisfying tap.

I shuffled through quickly to review my show notes and some of the random ideas I’d jotted down in the margins.

As I traced my fingers over the switchboard while I skimmed, the red light illuminated, catching my eye, and I reordered my thoughts just before it flashed three times, signaling my cue. Ravi pointed over to me.

“Hello, my loyal listeners! Whew, it has been a morning. First, my coffee machine met its untimely demise, taking my will to function right along with it. And though Keurigs aren’t the most environmentally friendly, as you know, I’m a single pringle who just wants one damn cup, not a whole pot.

But today it decided no coffee for me. Miserable and jarring start to the morning, I can assure you that.

So I do this lumbering-style zombie walk all the way to the 4 train, only to find out it’s a crawling local instead of an express and packed tighter than my prepandemic skinny jeans.

And because the universe is apparently a two-bit comedian, those very jeans decided to split right up the ass as I stepped onto the platform. ”

I stood up, folded in half, and flashed the damage to Ravi. He cracked a wide smile (wider than my own crack), rolled his eyes at me for the second time that morning, and shook his head like I was some kind of walking disaster, which today was fair.

“So naturally, with my best Hanky Panky panties out on full blast, I got catcalled and ogled across six blocks and two avenues. Just another day in the glamorous life of yours truly, Elliot West, host of Love Is a Four-Letter Word.”

Ravi hit play on the show’s clubby techno intro music, then shot me a quick nod when it was time to take over again.

Glancing at the bullet points on my first note card, I was already preparing for the pulsing energy of the show ahead, hot opinions flying, tempers flaring, and callers ready to turn the high holy day of “love” into an all-out battleground.

“Good morning, everyone. So glad you’re tuning in.

Tomorrow, as you all know, is Valentine’s Day—the Hallmark holiday of all Hallmark holidays.

So to celebrate or not to celebrate? That is the question.

And I’ve got your answer, ladies. I say: No.

Hard pass. You can keep your overpriced roses, overcooked filet mignon, and overstuffed animals the size of my first studio apartment.

I mean, is it really a gesture of love if a pop-up ad from has to remind you to do it?

Maybe it’s just me, but I’d sure as hell prefer a handpicked bouquet of dandelions given to me on some random Tuesday than the bells and whistles of yet another capitalistic expectation.

“But what about all of you? Are you buying into the grand illusion of candlelit dinners and heart-shaped tubs? Are you being fooled by the gestures of glittering jewelry that will no doubt turn your finger or neck green? What will you be doing, or not doing, tomorrow night or this weekend to celebrate? Let me know and give me a call at 1-800-844-5683. That’s 1-800-UGH-Love. ”

Within seconds, the switchboard lit up like a Christmas tree. I cracked my knuckles and hit the button for the first caller. “Morning! You’re on the air. So are you dialing in to defend the so-called magic of Valentine’s Day, or do you also see it as a glorified cash grab?”

“Hi, am I on the air?” the voice asked, popping slightly through the line.

“Yes, this is Elliot West, and you’re on Love Is a Four-Letter Word. What’s your name and where are you calling from?”

“Melanie, calling from right outside Yonkers.”

“Hi, Melanie from right outside Yonkers. So which is it? Magic? Or cash grab?”

“Definitely a cash grab,” Melanie answered. “I mean, fifty bucks for a bouquet that’ll be dead in three days? No thanks.”

“Exactly! A thoughtful gesture shouldn’t need to be wrapped in cellophane and bows. Sometimes it’s the little things that mean the most. Am I right?”

“A hundred percent. I’d love it if my boyfriend would just make me my morning cup of tea without me having to ask or remind him how I take it.”

“And you’re worth that. It’s never about the price, it’s about the thought behind it.

Valentine’s Day, though . . . feels like it’s turned thoughtfulness into a box to check, doesn’t it.

Thanks for calling, Melanie.” I pressed the next line.

“Hello, you’re on Love Is a Four-Letter Word.

What’s your name and where are you calling from? ”

“This is Gwen calling from Jersey City.”

“Hey, Gwen from JC! What’s your take?”

“So I think I have to disagree with you. I actually like Valentine’s Day. I mean, sure, it’s commercial, but so are birthdays and Christmas. At least this holiday celebrates love.”

“Yeah, I’ll take my chances with birthdays. You can’t always count on people, but you can always count on cake.”

“Very true,” Gwen giggled, “buuuuut can cake hold your hand in a crowd, wipe away your tears when you’re sad, or cuddle up next to you on the couch while you’re watching Netflix on a Saturday night?”

“Guuurl, if it could, I’d already be Mrs. Duncan Hines, that’s for damn sure.” I barked out a laugh and readjusted in my chair. “Thanks so much for dialing in.” Glancing down at the switchboard, I pressed for the next line. “This is Elliot West, you’re on the air.”

“Hey, Elliot. This is Tia. Longtime listener, first-time caller.”

“Love that! So tell me, Tia, how do you weigh in on this hot topic?”

“I have to agree with Gwen. Valentine’s Day gets a bad rap, but I think it’s kind of nice. I mean, I’m in a new relationship, and the guy actually planned something. Like, real effort. Dinner, a play, the whole thing. What’s wrong with a day that reminds people to be a little extra thoughtful?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know . . . maybe because you shouldn’t need a calendar alarm to remind you to go the extra mile. Shouldn’t that be, like, table stakes for a relationship?”

“But life can get really hectic, you know? Sometimes you need something like a holiday to snap you out of autopilot and make you stop and appreciate what you have. That shouldn’t make the effort count any less, though.”

“You make a fair point, but I still would argue that if you’re only romantic when a holiday tells you to be, that’s not love, that’s seasonal programming.

And if he needs Cupid to serve as his very own personal assistant, maybe it’s time to think about whether or not you want to take this relationship any further.

I speak from personal experience here, and trust me, better you figure that out now before you get in too deep.

” I glanced up at Ravi, who was giving me the signal to wrap it up.

“Thanks, Tia, for calling in. We need to go to a quick commercial break. More Love Is a Four-Letter Word when we return.”

Pushing the headphones back over my head, I sipped from my water bottle while the show’s outro music played.

Shuffling through the stack of ad copy, I pulled out the ones Ravi had earmarked for today’s show.

I cleared my throat with a quick cough, slipped the headphones back over my ears, and pulled the mic to my face.

“Today’s episode is brought to you by Grubhub, the only thing in your life that shows up and always leaves you satisfied, and by Airbnb: Escape everything, including your bad decisions.

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Ravi brought his Probably Vodka mug to his lips and, with a twirl of his finger, signaled we were back to the show.

“If you’re just joining us on your morning commute, carpooling the kiddos to school, or tuning in during your Pilates workout, we’re deep in debate over here about the ‘virtues’—and yes, I am using air quotes—of Valentine’s Day.

Waste of time, or worth the hassle? Our last few callers seemed pro-Cupid, but let me throw some stats your way. ”