More Than a Kiss (20 page)

The Marriage Proposal

Amy,
wrapped in a towel, was sitting on the toilet.  She held her head in her hands
and made soft little whimpering noises like a seasick chipmunk.  Isabel hoisted
herself up on the cabinet and stared at Amy.

"Don't
stare at me.  I can feel you staring."

"Amy,
look at me."

Amy
peeked between her fingers at Isabel.

Isabel
said, “I’m sorry.  You have to know I didn’t mean to upset Jordan.”

"I
know, I know," Amy said, burying her face in her hands.  “This whole girl
thing is so hard.  Guys are easier. A lot easier.”

“You
just think that because you didn’t care about the guys.”

“Yeah. 
You’re probably right.”

Isabel
picked at a piece of imaginary lint on her pants and said, "You know, I
did it with a girl once."

"You
did?"  Amy straightened and became all ears.  "When?  Where? 
Who?"

Isabel
waved her hand like it was nothing.  "Oh, back in college.  Some softball
player had the hots for me.  She plied me with peppermint schnapps and we got
friendly in my room."

“What
was it like?”

"Kinda
fun," Isabel said with a shrug.  "Except she wanted a relationship
and I didn't."

"I
want a relationship.  With Jordan," Amy said mournfully.

“We
can fix it.  I can explain to Jordan that you despise Chad and I was only
warning you.  It’s the truth, she has to believe it.”

“What
if she doesn’t?  I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about Chad when he came to the
restaurant.  I should have told her he was crazy and that we went out once. 
Now it looks like I was trying to cover up my relationship with him. That I was
using her to get him.”

The
doorbell rang.  Amy and Isabel both looked toward the ding-donging. 
"That'll be Chad.  You want me to get rid of him for you?" Isabel
asked.

Amy
shook her head.  "No.  I better do it or he'll never stop.  Can you let
him in while I get dressed?"

"Sure,"
Isabel said.  She hopped off the counter and was turning to the door when it
flew open.  There was a loud crunch as the doorknob punched through the wall
behind it.

Chad
stood in the doorway, snorting like a bull.
 
He
pawed the ground with one foot and looked from Amy to Isabel and back to Amy
again.  He looked psychotic with his eyes rolling around in his head and he was
still wearing the filthy hospital gown.  His hair was even more rat’s-nest-y
and there was a pungent odor surrounding him.

"What
are you doing?" Amy finally asked, wrapping her towel around her tighter. 
She felt at a distinct disadvantage standing naked with only a towel separating
herself and her dignity.

"Where
is she?" Chad snorted, looking around wildly.

"What?" 
Amy asked.  "Who?" she also asked even though she was pretty sure she
knew who he was talking about.

Isabel
put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin in the air.  "Do you mind?  We
were having a private conversation and then you just burst in and break the
wall? Why the hell did you ring the doorbell if you’re just going to barge in
anyway?"

"Do
you
mind?" Chad echoed her like they were grade school again. 
"I would like to have a private conversation with my fiancée. And I rang
the doorbell because it was the polite thing to do.”

"Fiancee?"
 Amy said.

“Can
you give us a moment, please?” Chad said.

Isabel
looked to Amy.  Amy nodded.

Isabel
poked one finger into Chad's chest and said, "One minute and that’s it.  I
got my eye on you, Bub.  You mess with Amy and I'll go Sweeny Todd all over
your ass."

"Sweeney
Todd?" Chad asked.  He lurched and slurred.  “Who’s she?  Another lesbo?”

 Isabel
continued, "You so much as look at her cross-eyed and Chad will be the
other white meat."

"What's
that mean?" he said, backing into the hallway.

Isabel
squinted in her most menacing manner and poked him a few more times, saying,
"Chad.  It's what's for dinner."

"Huh?"
he said, more confused than ever.  He put his hand on the doorframe to steady
himself.

Isabel
backed down the hallway, pointing two fingers to her eyes then pointing the two
fingers at Chad in the universal "I'm watching you" signal.

Chad
stumbled back into the bathroom.  Amy took a step back and tightened the towel around
her body again.

Chad
dramatically dropped to one knee and bowed his head as if he were waiting to be
knighted by a king.  He lifted one hand into the air.  There was a diamond ring
glittering in the palm of his hand.  He looked up at her from under his
eyebrows and smiled.

Amy
almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.  “How on earth did you get that?  In
your condition, I wouldn’t think anyone would sell you a diamond.”

“I’ve
had it.  I bought it a long time ago so I’d be ready when the girl of my dreams
came along.  Besides it was marked down during a going out of business sale. 
See, I’m fish-oily responsible too.”

“Fish-Oily?”

“Fiscally. 
I meant fiscally.”  Chad blinked away actual, honest-to-God tears. "Will
you marry me?" he whispered.  "Will you become Mrs. Chad
Dorring?"

Amy
stared wide-eyed.  Her brain simply wasn't processing this turn of events.

"I've
wanted you all along, you know," he said.  "And I can tell you want
me, too.  No matter what they're saying about you."

"Who? 
What're they saying?" she asked.

"That
you're a dyke.  But don't worry.  I told everyone you weren't."

Amy
stared at Chad’s face.  That shit-eating grin.  That simple dimple.  That
toothy smile that blinged even brighter than the diamond ring in his
outstretched palm.  Something deep inside her broke open.  She had never been
too great at math, but she could add two and two.  The stalker was Chad.  It
finally made sense.  Jordan’s stalker was Chad, not Petronella.  How stupid
could she be?  “How stupid do you think I am?” she said.

Chad
blinked.  “Excuse me?”

“You
slashed Jordan’s bike tires.  You put Bible signs in her yard.  You put poop on
her porch and lit it on fire.  You come into my house, uninvited, and make
green goopy stuff and get your finger snapped off by a lobster.  You interrupt
a perfectly romantic evening between me and my date.  And all you can say is
‘marry me?’”

“I
love you?” he said more like a question.

“You
don’t know the meaning of love.  You have never loved anybody but yourself,
Chad Dorring.  And I think you are a despicable pile of dog doody and I
wouldn’t stomp you out if you were on fire.  Now move out of my way.”

Chad
rose to his feet and stretched out both of his arms, blocking the doorway. 
“You’re not going after her.”

“Get
out of my way.”

 Chad
stood his ground.  He cleared his throat then said, “It’s either me or her.”

Amy
couldn’t believe her ears.  Was this sicko really offering her a Sophie’s
Choice moment?  Without further delay, Amy said simply, “Her.”

“You’ll
regret saying that,” Chad sputtered.

A
tiny drop of Chad’s spittle hit her in the face.  She wiped it away with the
back of her hand.  Amy had a notoriously long fuse.  But once it blew, it was
worse than an atom bomb.  She wadded up her fist and did something she had
wanted to do ever since she first laid eyes on Chad.  She socked him right
square in the butt-chin.

Chad’s
eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor.  Amy stepped over his
body and ran for the front door.

Amy Runs

Amy
ran out the front door, thinking about the movie
The Graduate
.  She felt
like she was Dustin Hoffman’s character, Benjamin Braddock.  Not the Benjamin
that slept with an older woman at the beginning of the movie.  She felt like
the Benjamin that ran after Elaine and pounded on the glass at the church and
grabbed the bride and rode off into the sunset by bus at the end of the movie. 
However, Benjamin had been wearing shoes.  He had on pants.  All Amy had on was
a towel.  She only ran as far as the corner when she stopped.  She turned and
began to limp back home.

A
car pulled up alongside her.  Great, Amy thought, just frickin’ frackin’
great.  This was exactly what she didn’t need.  She kept her eyes straight
ahead.  She didn’t want to give the driver any more ideas.

“Hop
in,” the driver said.

Amy
looked over at the car.  Isabel was behind the wheel of her Jeep, motioning for
her to get in.

“What’re
you doing?” Amy said.

“Are
we going to go get the woman you love or not?”

Amy
smiled and hopped in the car.  Isabel gestured to a gym bag in the back seat. 
“My workout clothes are in that bag.  They’re clean.  Put them on.”

“Thank
you,” Amy said.  “I’ll name my first born after you.”

“I
hope it’s not a boy,” Isabel said, “Or he’ll get beat up a lot at school.”

Amy
opened the gym bag and pulled on a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and a
T-shirt.  Isabel threw the car into D, saying, “Let’s do this thing.”  She
peeled off down the street.

Amy
looked out the back window.  "You're not going to believe this," she
said, "but Chad is running after us."

"This
whole thing about you being with a woman has sent him into hyper-drive,"
Isabel said.

Isabel
took the next corner without slowing down, leaving Chad standing in the middle
of the street waving the wedding ring up in the air.  It caught the light from
the street lamp and flashed.  He resembled a deranged Statue of Liberty.

As
they drove across town, Amy got cold feet.  “What am I going to say to Jordan? 
I mean we almost had sex and then my not-boyfriend comes over and proposes to
me.  Think how that must look to her.”

Isabel
snapped her fingers like she just had an “eureka” idea.  “I know!  You’ll tell
her the truth.”

“What,
that I got drunk and slept with him once and now he’s got this idea in his head
that we’re going to get married.”

“Don’t
forget the banana peel part,” Isabel added.

“Thanks
for reminding me,” Amy said, plucking Isabel’s phone out of her purse.

“What
are you doing?” Isabel said.

“I
should try and call her first.  Maybe she doesn’t want to see me yet.”

“You’re
not chickening out are you?”

“No,
I’m evaluating. I need to know what I’m up against.  I mean how would you feel
if this just happened to you?”

Isabel
considered it.  “Well, I’d be pretty mad because I’d feel like I’d been
played.”

“It
looks like that doesn’t it?”

Isabel
raised her eyebrows.  “Kinda,” she admitted.

“So
I don’t think going over there while she’s angry is such a good idea.”

“Okay,
I think you’re right on this one.  You should call her and see what the
temperature is.”

Amy
poised one finger over the phone’s keypad.  “If she asks me to explain, what do
I say?”

“Duh.
That Chad is a stalking madman and you’re not getting married.”

Amy
took a deep breath and called.  It went right to voice mail like she knew it
would.  She hung up.

“Text
her instead.  She won’t be able to
not
look at it,” Isabel said.  “It’s
a scientific fact.”

“Okay. 
But what do I say?”

“That
Chad is a stalking madman and you’re not getting married.”

Amy
quickly typed that in.

Only
five seconds passed before she got a return text.  It read, “Fuck you.”

“I
think she’s mad.”

“Ya
think? Ask if you can see her,” Isabel said.

“We
need to talk.  Can I see you?” Amy typed.

The
return, “Still fuck you.”

“This
isn’t good,” Amy said.

“What
now?”

“Take
me to her house.  Benjamin didn’t get Elaine by giving up.”

“Who’s
Benjamin?  Who’s Elaine?”

“Can’t
you drive any faster?”

Isabel
laughed gleefully and put the pedal to the metal.

Blue Amy II

Isabel
and Amy pulled up in front of Jordan’s house a mere two minutes and seventeen
seconds later.  The entire house was dark.  That meant Jordan was either gone,
asleep, sitting in the dark, or pretending to be gone or asleep.  “She’s gone,”
Amy said with a groan.  “She must have sensed I was on my way and left.”

“Nah,
I bet she’s in there hiding from you,” Isabel said.  “That’s what I’d do.”  She
opened the car door, got out, and peeked back inside at Amy.  “C’mon, let’s go
pound on the door until she gets sick of us and opens it.”

“You’re
going with me?”

“Of
course.  Jordan has her homies, you’re going to need yours.”

“What
do you mean?” Amy said.

“You
need a back-up.  I’ll be your muscle.”

Amy
figured her cause was already lost if all the muscle she could round up came in
the form of Isabel.  Knowing she didn’t have anything else to lose, she got out
of the car and followed Isabel.

Isabel
marched up to the front door on the balls of her toes like a professional
wrestler who was ready to throw the competition in a headlock.  In direct
contrast, Amy slunk to the front door like a dog with its tail tucked between
its legs.

Isabel
pressed the doorbell.  It played the first few notes of the “Banana Boat
Song.”  It made her think of that scene in
Beetlejuice
where the people
at the dining table danced and sang the “Banana Boat Song.”  That scene never
failed to make her laugh.  Amy suddenly realized she was smiling.  She quickly
replaced the smile with a frown.  What would Jordan think if she opened the
door and saw her with a big smile on her face?

The
door opened.  It wasn’t Jordan.  It was Edison.

“Hi,
Edison, it’s me,” Amy said in a little voice.

Edison
frowned at Isabel, then looked disapprovingly at Amy.  “You have some nerve.”

“Where
is Jordan?” Amy asked.  “I need to see her.”

“She
is at an undisclosed location that is not in this house,” Edison said, as if
she were repeating what she’d been told.  “And she doesn’t want to see you.”

“It’s
not what you think, Edison, I swear,” Amy said.

“It’s
really not,” Isabel said.

“Who’s
the cute chick?” Edison asked Amy.  “You not satisfied with humiliating Jordan
with a guy?  You have to rub her nose in another woman?”

“Rubbing
her nose in another woman” brought up all kinds of images Amy didn’t want in
her head at the moment, but she thought it prudent not to remark on the poor
choice of words.  “This is Isabel.  She’s my muscle,” Amy replied.

“You
really think I’m cute?” Isabel asked, batting her eyes.

Amy
didn’t realize women still batted their eyes.  She had thought that move went
out the same time as the word ‘coquette.’

Edison
looked her up and down.  “Another time, another place, maybe.  You sure don’t
look like anybody’s muscle.”

“I
could surprise you,” Isabel said.

“Oh
yeah?”  Edison cocked an eyebrow at Isabel.  “Give me your best shot.”

Amy
couldn’t tell if they were flirting with each other or getting ready to beat
each other up.  She also didn’t know which scenario she preferred.  “Can we get
back to my dilemma, please?”

Edison
tore her eyes away from Isabel and looked at Amy.

“Thank
you,” Amy said.  She summoned up her inner Bette Davis and said, “I am now
going to come in your house.  I am going to search the entire house.  I am
going to find Jordan and tell her my side of the story.  This is going to
happen with or without your consent.  So you might as well step aside and make
this easy on yourself.”

Edison
squinted one eye at Amy.  “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“I
do.”

Edison
opened the door wider and gestured for them to enter.  “Then be my guest.”

Ten
minutes later, Amy had searched every room in the house except Jordan’s study. 
She saved that room for last.  She walked in and turned on the light.  What she
saw froze her to the spot.  Isabel bumped into her back.

“Whoa,”
Isabel said, looking at the far wall.  “Is that what I think it is?”

Amy
was stunned.  There was a huge, blue portrait of her face painted on the wall. 
She was no expert on art, true, but even she had to admit that what the
portrait lacked in variety of color, it made up for in feeling.

“It’s
me,” Amy said.

Edison
entered the room and looked at the painting.  “She painted that the day you
stitched her up.  She had it bad for you, right from the start.  I tried to
tell her that you would end up hurting her.  It’s the first time I ever wished
I was wrong.”

Amy
turned to Edison.  “I didn’t mean to hurt her.  It wasn’t even my fault.”

“Yeah,
right.  Next thing you’re going to tell me you were the victim in all this?”

“That’s
right,” Isabel said forcefully, stepping toe to toe with Edison.  “Why don’t
you hear what she has to say before you go making judgments?”

Edison
opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed her
mouth.  She looked at the wall, studying Amy’s blue likeness.  “Okay.  I’ll
hear what she has to say.”  She stepped around Isabel and looked at Amy.  “Tell
me your side of the story.”

“That
man is… his name is Chad.  He’s a doctor at the hospital.  Chad is… living in
Chad-World.  We went out once,” Amy said.  “Only once.”

Edison
put her hands on her hips and said, “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to
the story?”

Amy
sighed.  She might as well come clean.  “There is more.”  She sat down on the
couch and said, “I got really drunk.  I had sex with him.  He threw the condom
on the floor.  I got up to go to the bathroom, slipped on it and knocked myself
unconscious.  He took me to the emergency room and to save face I told them I
slipped on a banana peel.  It turned into this big joke at the hospital.  They
all called me Banana Amy.  I’ve hated Chad ever since.  However, my hatred has
turned into a personal challenge for him.  He won’t leave me alone.”

Edison
broke into loud guffaws.  She slapped her leg and chortled, “Banana Amy?  For
real?”

It
wasn’t the reaction Amy had expected at all.  Appalled and disgusted, yes. 
Laughing and mirthful, no.

Edison
dropped onto the couch beside her, wheezing from laughter.  “A banana peel? 
That’s the best you could come up with?”  She laughed herself out while Amy and
Isabel only stared at her.  Finally, Edison collected herself and wiped her
eyes with the corner of her T-shirt.  “Okay, well, so how did you end up being
engaged to the guy?”

“Are
you sure I can’t talk to Jordan?  This is so embarrassing.  I don’t want to do
it twice,” Amy said.

“Really
and truly, she’s not here.  Irma whisked her off to some KGB safe house so she
could get away from you and get her head screwed back on straight.  Tell me the
rest of the story.”

Amy
told her about the romantic pizza lunch, the lobster, the stalking, everything.

“Really,
he had his finger bit off by a lobster?” Edison said.

Amy
and Isabel nodded their heads in unison.

“You
expect Jordan to believe all that?” Edison said.

Isabel
said, “It’s the truth!”

Amy
buried her face in her hands, hiccupped three times then began to sob.  Isabel
pulled her into her arms, held her tightly and patted her back like she was
burping a baby.  “There, there,” she cooed.  Isabel shot Edison a look that said,
“Now look what you’ve done.”

Amy
blubbered through her tears and Isabel’s bosom, “Chad’s a creep and I hate
him.  And now the love of my life thinks I’m a liar and a philanderer.”

“Philanderer
wasn’t the exact word she used,” Edison said.

Amy
sobbed louder.

“Do
something,” Isabel mouthed silently to Edison.

 “Okay,
okay,” Edison said, rising to her feet and pacing.  “We can fix this.”

“We
can?” Amy whined, looking over Isabel’s shoulder.  “How?”

Edison
stopped pacing, ran her thumbnail along her lower lip and looked thoughtful. 
“We need to do some reconnaissance.  Are you up for it?”

“Like
in a spy movie?” Isabel asked excitedly.

“Exactly,”
Edison said.

“Like
in a
James Bond
spy movie?” Isabel asked with her eyes glowing brighter.

“Exactly
like that,” Edison said.  “I get to be James Bond, of course.”

“And
I’ll be Pussy Galore,” Isabel said, jumping to her feet.

Amy
dried her tears and looked from one woman to the other.  There was something
happening between Edison and Isabel that much was evident.  It was like an
electrical charge was shooting from their eyes and fingertips to the other’s
eyes and fingertips.  Well, okay, that sounded too science-fiction-y.  It was
more like an unseen magnetic force was pulling them toward each other.

Amy
definitely felt like the third wheel in their James Bond movie.  “Who do I get
to be?” she said softly.

“Oh,
you’re Mrs. Moneypenny,” Isabel said.

Amy
frowned.  She had hoped she would get to be Octopussy.

“What
are we going to recon?” Isabel asked Edison.

“Our
suspect.  Chad, of course.  If we can find proof of Amy’s story, we’ll present
it to Jordan and she’ll have to believe her.”  Edison rubbed her palms together. 
It was obvious she lived for moments such as these.  “Come up to my lab.  I
need to gather up my gear and you all need some black clothes.”

“We’re
going on a spy mission, we’re going on a spy mission,” Isabel chanted in a singsong
voice, skipping out the door behind Edison.

“Some
muscle you are,” Amy muttered under her breath.  She slowly followed behind
them, shaking her head.  She’d never seen Isabel quite so animated.  Is that
what love looked like? If so, it was pretty ridiculous.