More Than a Kiss (3 page)

Mustaches and Mistakes

Completely
unaware that she had chocolate smeared above her upper lip, Amy opened the door
to the waiting room, looked out over the huddled masses and called out,
"Ms. Edison?  Is there a Ms. Edison here?"

Edison
waved her hand in the air
a la
Arnold Horshack, saying, "Ooh, ooh,
ooh! Tell me she'll live."

Jordan's
description had been right on target except she wasn’t wearing glasses.

"She'll
live," Amy said, shaking Edison's hand.  "Thanks to that superior
taping job of yours.  It was extremely difficult to remove."

Edison
stared at Amy's chocolate mustache and mistakenly thought it was a real
mustache.  After all, the chocolate matched Amy’s hair color.  Edison’s mistake
was understandable.  She’d not worn her glasses. Edison thought Amy would be
really pretty if she practiced hair removal.

Amy
mistakenly thought Edison must be hard of hearing or maybe even deaf since she
was obviously staring at her lips and trying to lip-read.  So, Amy talked very,
very loudly and made sure to enunciate crisply.  "I. Am. Pleased. To.
Meet. You. Edison."

Edison
thought maybe Amy was not only hairy, but also
deaf
and that was why she so carefully said her words and had no volume control. 
Edison raised her volume to match Amy's, "It is so wonderful that you were
able to become a doctor!"

"Thank
you!" Amy shouted back.

Edison
continued shouting, "I think it's wonderful to see people overcome their
circumstances and fulfill their dreams!"

"I
agree!”

"So
are you going to be able to put Humpty Dumpty together again?"

"Huh?"

"Jordan's
cut hand?" Edison said, making elaborate cutting gestures with her own
hand.

Amy
added some sewing gestures to her next sentence so Edison could understand
better.  "Oh, yes, I can put it back together, but it will take a while. 
I did not want you to worry!"

"Can
I watch?  I find gore fascinating!"  She stared intently at Amy’s lips
like a bird dog awaiting a signal.

Amy
nodded enthusiastically.  "I don't see why not!  You can help to distract
her while I sew her up!"

"If
I know Jordan, you've already distracted her plenty!"

When
Amy looked puzzled, Edison explained, "Jordan always notices the pretty
ones!"

Amy
led Edison down the hallway and since Edison was deaf and walking behind her,
Amy didn't bother to keep her thoughts inside her head.  "Wow.  Here I am
being called pretty again.  Twice within five minutes.  Must be some kind of
record.  Or maybe it's just a thing with lesbians.  She said Jordan noticed
pretty women.  That means Jordan must be some kind of playgirl.  And the way
Edison said it was even more telling – like she was jealous.  Is Edison her
girlfriend?  A better question is why am I even thinking about all this?  I
would have been safer and saner with Mrs. Markus' mood mole."

Edison
said, "What's a mood mole?"

Amy
froze.  "You heard me say that?"

"Sure,"
Edison said, "You're the one who's deaf, not me."

"I'm
not deaf," Amy said.

"You're
not?"

Amy
shook her head.  "So if you're not deaf, why were you staring at my
lips?"

Edison
shuffled her feet.  "I'm sorry, I know it's rude, but I've never seen a
woman with a mustache before."  Afraid of offending Amy, she quickly
amended her words.  "I mean, I've seen mustaches on women before, but not
a nice, thick mustache like yours."

Amy
wiped her upper lip.  "It's chocolate," Amy said.  She licked her
finger to prove her point.

"Oh,"
Edison said, relieved.  "Thank God, 'cause that was really scary
looking."

Amy
licked her upper lip.  "All gone?"

Edison
nodded.  "Yep.  Oh, and Jordan’s not a playgirl."

Amy
pushed open the curtain to Jordan’s cubicle, saying, “Good to know.”

The Sex Eye

Jordan
had spent her interlude away from Amy giving some serious thought to the
dilemma of asking Amy out.  Using all her superhuman lesbian powers, she had
deduced that Amy was straight, but interested.  Jordan knew that she would have
to tread carefully.  She would have to entice Amy without being overbearing. 
She would have to be coy without being standoffish.  The next few minutes would
have to play out like a delicate surgery.

Jordan's
thoughts were interrupted when Amy led Edison inside the cubicle.  "What
the hell are you doing here?" she asked.

"I'm
your doctor," Amy said.  “Don’t you remember me?”

"Not
you.  Her," Jordan said, pointing with her good hand.

"I'm
your distraction," Edison said, peering down at the cut hand.  "Now
that it's not bleeding it looks good in an awful kind of way."

"Has
the medicine taken effect?" Amy asked.

"Well,
I can't feel my hand anymore.  It's like it's not even a part of me,"
Jordan said.

Amy
sat in the rolling chair in front of her. "That means it's working."

Edison
hovered over Amy's shoulder, fascinated with the procedure.  Jordan whispered
to

Amy,
"I can't believe you let her come in here."

Edison
leaned over even further, sticking her nose between the injured hand and Amy. 
"The doc asked me to distract you," Edison said.

"Actually,
right now, you're distracting
me
," Amy said.

"Oh,
sorry.  I'll wait over here.  Tell me when you want me to distract." 
Edison moved to the far side of the room and leaned against the wall.

Jordan
realized that Edison being in the room with them had changed the energy.  What
had been there before, if indeed it had been and wasn't just a figment of her
imagination, was completely different now.  The room felt deflated, flat and…
solid.  That was it.  Before it was fluid and liquid and moving, now it was
solid and heavy.

"You
never answered my question," Jordan said to Amy.

"What
question?"

"Why
you became a doctor?"

"The
usual reasons, I guess," Amy said.  She put Jordan's hand on a small
table.  She moved the instrument tray closer and brought over a lamp.  She
studied her task under the bright light.

"What?
You're not sure of her abilities?  She looks pretty competent to me,"
Edison said.

"I
have the utmost confidence in… what's your first name?" Jordan asked.

"Amy."

"Can
I call you that?"

"Yes." 
Amy looked up at her.  "You may not want to watch this part."

"I
want to watch," Edison said.

"No,"
Jordan and Amy said in unison.  They looked at each other and laughed.

"I
promise I won't move and I won't throw up or anything," Edison whined.

"Okay,"
Amy relented, "but don't hover.  And stand behind her, not me."

Edison
gleefully took up position behind Jordan and watched over her shoulder.

"Story
time, Amy," Jordan said.  "Distract me with the tale of why you
became a doctor."

As
Amy stitched she gave her stock answer, "I became a doctor because the
human body has always fascinated me."

"It
fascinates me, too," Edison said.

"You're
only interested in certain parts," Jordan said.

Edison
giggled.

“So,
Jordan, what do you do?” Amy asked.

“She’s
a writer.  She writes children’s books.  And illustrates them, too,” Edison
answered for her.  Edison leaned in closer.  "Is that stringy
white-looking thing the tendon?  Amazing.  You can sew it together like that? 
Wow."

"I
can't listen to a play-by-play with color commentary," Jordan said.

"Will
that black thread be in her hand forever?"

Amy
shook her head.  "It'll dissolve over time."

"Amazing."

"You
can help her with changing the dressing, I hope?" Amy asked Edison.

"I'd
love to!" Edison said a bit too enthusiastically.

"You're
putting her in charge of the nursing? It was all her fault this happened in the
first place," Jordan said.

"Well,
in that case," Amy said, "she has to work off that karmic debt.  Or
in her next life she'll have to do it all over again."

"Hmmm…
I'm not sure I want a doctor who believes in reincarnation.  Somehow it seems
to go against the entire reason for making this life last," Jordan
reasoned.

"I
want to be your nurse!  You know how much I love looking at wounds and
stuff," Edison said.  "Maybe I can get one of those sexy nurse
outfits.  With the little apron and feather duster."

"You're
thinking of a French maid costume," Jordan said.

"Oh,"
Edison said.  "You're right.  What do nurses wear?"

"Scrubs,"
Amy said.  "They're not very sexy either."  Turning her attention
back to Jordan, she said, "I'll write you a script for Vicodin.  Enough to
get you through a week."

"Don't
bother.  She won't take them," Edison said.

"You
know," Jordan said sarcastically to Edison, "it's truly amazing that
I could conduct my life before you came along."

Amy
had trouble keeping up with these two.  They were like Ab Fab but without the
accents.  "You two sound like an old married couple.”

"We're
not married," Jordan said.  "In fact, after this, we may not even be
friends."

Edison
laughed.  "She doesn't really mean that."

Amy
was still not sure what their relationship was, so she cast her fishing line
out even further by asking, "So, you two aren't a couple?"

Edison
answered, "Nope.  We tried the girlfriend thing, but she said I was too
bossy which is true, so now I’m her roommate.  It really was for the best.  We
wouldn't have lasted.  I would've punched every girl who gave her the sex eye
and would probably be serving time right now."

"The
sex eye?" Amy asked.

"You
know," Edison explained, "when a girl looks at you like
I-Really-Want-to-Get-Nasty-With-You without the preliminaries."

"Preliminaries?"

"Yeah,"
Edison said.  "The part where you do dinner or drinks and show each other
pictures of your fur kids and tell cute stories about your cat where you
personify him with dialogue.  You speak in a high voice like you imagine a cat
would.”  Edison demonstrated in a squeaky voice, “My name is Mittens and my
owners torture me.  They dine on fresh kill whilst they make me eat dried
tasteless cereal.  They dangle things in front of me and yank it away.”  She
continues in her own voice, “Then you make sure that you each have a frequent
mover card for U-Haul."  Edison paused dramatically.  "Then you get
nasty."

Jordan
chuckled.  "Not necessarily in that order."

"Oh,"
Amy said.  "What if you don't have a cat?"

Edison's
eyes widened.  She put her hands on the sides of her face like the kid in the
Home
Alone
posters.  "Surely, you jest!"

Jordan
said, "Every lesbian has a cat."

"Really?"
Amy asked.  "Is that like an unwritten rule?"

"No,
it's written down," Edison said.  "It's in the rule book."

Amy
laughed as she dressed Jordan's hand.  "Okay, now about the Vicodin.  Sure
you won't change your mind?  It's going to hurt plenty when the shots wear
off."

Jordan
said, "No drugs for me.  I prefer a nice glass of Pinot Gris and a couple
of Aleve."

"She's
got a wine cellar in her house," Edison explained.  "The place is
enormous.  An old four-story Victorian or three-story with an attic, which
makes it a four-story.  We’re restoring it to its original grandeur only
better."

"Tell
me you didn't fall out of the fourth story window," Amy said.

"I
didn't fall out of the fourth story window," Jordan said with a straight
face.

"She
did, too," Edison said.

Amy
shook her head.  "Unbelievable.  It's a miracle you don't have any broken
bones."

Jordan
said, "I know how to fall.  You ever hear of those stories about babies
falling from ten story buildings and not getting anything but a couple of
bruises?  It's because they go limp.  That's the secret.  Just go limp and
bounce.”

Amy
smiled.

Jordan
smiled.

Edison
frowned.

Amy
turned her back to the two and scooped extra gauze and tape into a baggie. 
Jordan quickly motioned for Edison to leave.  Edison opened the door, but
before she could walk away, Amy stopped her by saying, "Edison?"

Edison
turned.  Amy handed her the bandage supplies. "That's enough for a couple
of days.  You should go by a drugstore and stock up on more."

Edison
nodded.  "Thanks, Doc."   Edison looked at Jordan and spoke stiffly
like a really bad soap opera actor, "I'll just go get the car and bring it
around to the entrance, Jordan.  You shouldn't be walking on that… hand." 
She left.

"So,"
Jordan said, standing.  "I guess that's it then."

Amy
said, "I'd like to see you again."

"I'd
like to see you again, too," Jordan said.

"What
I meant was I'd like to see your hand.  In two weeks. I can take the stitches
out then."

"Oh." 
Jordan blushed.  "Of course that's what you meant.  But, you know,
wherever my hand goes, so do I.  So you'll probably see me again, too."

Amy
smiled.  "That would be expected.  Here's my card.  You can call during
work hours to make an appointment, okay? Or call anytime.  It doesn't have to
be during work hours.  For the appointment."

"Okay
then, it's a date.  I mean it's not really a date.  I know that.  But it is a
date.  Of sorts."

Amy
laughed.  "I know what you meant."

"Okay. 
I'll call then.  I mean tomorrow.  Whenever.  I'll call."  Jordan headed
for the door before she embarrassed herself further.  She was halfway out the
door before she turned back around.  "So, you never said… Do you have a
cat?"

"Not
yet," Amy smiled, "But I'm thinking about getting one."

Jordan
grinned and turned to go, but at that moment, Jeremy rounded the corner and
they smacked into each other.

He
took his time looking Jordan up and down before muttering, "Excuse
me."

Jordan
smiled awkwardly at him, waved goodbye to Amy with her bandaged hand – which
looked more like she was erasing a chalkboard than waving – and headed down the
hallway.

Jeremy
turned to Amy, waggled his eyebrows
a la
Groucho Marx and said, "I
think she likes me, don't you?"

"What're
you still doing here?  I thought you were leaving."

He
pooched out his lower lip in a bad imitation of a pouty child.  "If I
didn't know better I'd think you didn't want me around."

Amy
felt the electrical charge that Jordan had infused her with draining away. 
"Sorry," she said.  "I'm tired.  How was Mrs. Markus'
mole?"

"You
were right about the diagnosis.  I intentionally made her angry and it turned
red."

Amy
laughed.

Jeremy
continued, "And then I intentionally stopped by hoping to help you out
with the hottie."

"Hottie. 
That's so derogatory.  I don't understand why women like you."

"Touchy
touchy.  You're the only woman I know who doesn’t throw herself at my
feet."

Amy
looked at him smugly.  "Yeah, well, I didn't see Miss Hottie throwing
herself anywhere in your direction."

He
feigned hurt by clasping his hand over his chest as if he'd been shot in the
heart.  Then he laughed.  "She's probably a lesbian."

"As
a matter of fact she is," Amy said.  "And she was flirting with
me."

Jeremy
eyes widened.  "Really?"  He clasped his hands in front of his chest,
begging, "If you two go on a date can I come too?  I promise to be real
quiet and just watch."

Amy
rolled her eyes and stalked out the door.  She was halfway down the hallway
when Jeremy poked his head out the doorway and called after her, "Just
kidding!"  He added under his breath, "But not really."