Layce Gardner - More Than a Kiss

“Edison, maybe you should make Amy another martini,” Jordan said handing over the empty glass.

“I’ll make you one, too.”

“I don’t drink martinis,” Jordan said.

“Okaaaaay,” Edison said, tromping back up to the house.

Jordan’s stomach rumbled. She was starving and had to eat soon. Maybe she could fix Amy dinner and light some candles and Amy wouldn’t be able to see what the house looked like in the candlelight. It might even be romantic.

Edison returned with two martinis. She handed them both to Amy. “Just in case you need another one.” She cocked her head in Jordan’s direction.

“Thank you. I’m feeling a little better. I think the vodka is making the buzzing noise in my head go away,” Amy said.

Edison sat in a nearby lawn chair. Jordan looked at Edison and tried to communicate something with her eyes. Edison shook her head like she didn’t understand. Jordan used her head to gesture toward the house. Edison raised her eyebrows in a questioning expression. Amy watched the entire exchange.

“What are you two doing?” Amy asked.

Jordan stuttered, “Uh… Oh, Edison, aren’t you going to be late?”

“Late?” Edison said. “For what?”

“You know… that thing.”

“Thing?”

“Yes, that thing ,” Jordan said forcefully. “That thing you do every week at this exact same time.”

Finally, it dawned on Edison that Jordan wanted her to leave. “Oh! That thing.” Edison rose to her feet. “I better hurry. Bye, Amy.”

“Are you sure you have to rush off?” Amy said.

“Well,” Edison wavered, starting to sit back down. “I could maybe stay for…”

Jordan quickly interrupted, “No, you can’t stay, you have to go. You know how they get when you’re late.”

Edison hopped back up. “Right. They get really…”

“Mad,” Jordan filled in.

“Sad,” Edison said at the same time.

“I mean sad,” Jordan said.

“Mad,” Edison said at the same time. “Sad and mad.” As an afterthought, she threw in, “And glad.”

“Please don’t rhyme anymore. I’ve had all the rhyming I can take for one day,” Amy said while massaging her temples.

Edison laughed nervously and took several steps backwards. “So, goodbye!” She turned and trotted off toward the house, leaving Jordan and Amy alone.

Jordan chuckled and said, “Edison is brilliant, but sometimes a little dense.”

“You really care for her, though,” Amy said. “And she cares for you.”

“Yeah,” Jordan said. “I’m pretty lucky to have her for a friend.”

“Jeremy and Isabel are the closest friends I’ve ever had. Med school was so competitive that it was dangerous to get too close to anybody.” She sipped her martini.

“How about at work?” Jordan said. She sipped Amy’s other martini.

“We’re all friendly, but not friends, you know? There’s still some climbing to do if you want to be head of a department or position yourself to get into a cushy clinic. So people don’t let each other get too close.”

“Are you still climbing?” Jordan wasn’t sure how Amy felt about her career. What if having a girlfriend jeopardized her plans?

Amy responded, “The only other place I would consider working is Urgent Care. I like hands-on. I’m not interested in becoming the next director of Human Services and Surgery. I leave that to people like Chad. Even Jeremy just wants to help people. That’s why we can be friends. He wants to eventually go overseas and do that Third World thing. I couldn’t take the food.”

Jordan’s smile widened. She leaned in and kissed Amy lightly on the lips. “So having a girlfriend isn’t going to mess up your life plan?”

“No, silly.”

Jordan made her monumental decision. If Amy was willing to share her life with Jordan then a remodeled house that was stuck in the nightmare stage shouldn’t stop her. “Would you like to come inside? If you promise to ignore the shambles of remodeling, I promise to not blindfold you. I can make us something to eat.”

At the mention of eating, Amy’s stomach growled loudly. She giggled. “I think that was a definite yes.”

“Okay,” Jordan said, draining the last of the martini. “Just remember the house is a work in progress.”

“Aren’t we all,” Amy said.

Pizza Sauce

Once inside the house Amy was truly awed. The grand central staircase, albeit, in need of refinishing, spoke of women in long, flowing dresses descending to be embraced in their lovers’ arms only to be carried back up the stairs in a fit of unbridled passion. The stained glass windows on the first landing were still intact and the light that filtered through made the front hall look enchanting.

“This is the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen,” Amy said reverently.

“That’s the living room,” Jordan said and pointed in its general direction. “Dining room is over there,” she pointed again. “The second floor has four bedrooms. One is Irma’s unless she’s moved into Petronella’s already. And the other is Edison’s. Two unoccupied. The third floor is Edison’s laboratory and we won’t talk about that and the attic is my studio with a bed. Someday, I’ll have a master suite.”

“I’m only going to let you get away with cutting the tour short because I’m starving,” Amy said.

“The kitchen is this way,” Jordan said.

The once grand kitchen looked like a post-earthquake scene from a 1970’s disaster movie. Amy half-expected Charlton Heston to jump out of the pantry, with a torn and blood splattered shirt, and yell, “Ladies first!” while tossing them out of the burning building.

Amy looked at the bright side. “It’s like starting out with a clean slate. This kitchen can become anything you desire.”

Jordan liked Amy’s optimism. “The stove still functions. We just have to keep to simple fare. I thought we’d have pizza. Of course, pizza isn't the only thing I can cook, you know," Jordan said, opening a box and taking out a frozen pepperoni pizza.

Amy was amazed that Jordan could find her way to the stove much less use it. The cabinets were on the floor, the counters were nothing but makeshift plywood on sawhorses and the stove was shoehorned half inside the pantry, making fully opening its door an impossibility. No wonder she was only cooking a pizza, it was the only thing she could slide in the oven. And even to accomplish that she had to hold the pizza vertically and insert it like a coin into a vending machine.

"Oh?" Amy said. "Are you a good cook? Because I have to be honest, I’m horrible. I even burn Ramen noodles."

"Frozen pizza is my specialty," Jordan said, wiping her hands on a dishrag. "But hot dogs are my culinary masterpiece."

Amy laughed.

Jordan said with an ultra-solemn expression, "I'm serious, why are you laughing? I can make hot dogs dozens of ways. Boiled, baked, fried, charred, sliced, diced, on a stick, deep-fried, battered…”

"Okay, okay, I get the picture."

"I'm like the Forrest Gump of hot dogs."

Amy said, "I wasn't laughing at your culinary skills. I’m laughing at your nose."

"My nose?"

Amy hooked one finger into the collar of Jordan's shirt and tugged her closer. "Uh huh. You have a tiny bit of pizza sauce on the end of your nose."

"Are you flirting with me?" Jordan said, tugging Amy’s hips closer to her own.

"No," Amy said. "This is flirting with you." She stood on her toes and lightly kissed Jordan. The kiss heated up and Jordan pressed into Amy, backing her into the fridge, which was sitting in the middle of the floor.

"Oomph," Amy said, conking her head against the fridge.

Jordan laughed.

Amy rubbed the back of her head. "Oh, you think it's funny?" she asked.