More Than a Kiss

Date or Date-Date?

As Jordan sat scrunched in the back seat, listening to Edison and Amy chatter, she began to wonder if this was a real date in the conventional sense that the word “date” implied. Meaning: two people sharing a meal, a couple of hours together, with romantic intentions. Maybe Amy didn't know it was a date. Maybe she thought it was friends going to lunch together. Maybe she thought they were going to talk about girl things and tandem eat sandwiches. How could Jordan let Amy know that she considered their mutual sandwich eating a date-date and not just a date without scaring her off? Then again, if it did scare Amy off didn't that mean she didn't want to date-date? And wouldn't it be better to find that out on the date before it became a date-date?

Jordan was working herself into a headache. This was exactly why she didn't date-date. Irma was so much easier. She wished she had taken Amy up on that Vicodin offer. Then she could pop one right now and relax.

Edison scored a parking spot right in front of The Original Dinerant, which was a miracle in itself. Jordan even had enough change to plug the parking meter for two hours. Another miracle. They got a table right away, a window seat – yet another miracle.

“Wow. This place is really cool. It’s like retro,” Amy said. She pointed to the staircase. Where does that go?”

Jordan and Edison looked around as if seeing it for the first time. They always ate here so they no longer realized the grooviness of the place.

“There’s a lounge upstairs with couches and a floating fireplace. It’s pretty awesome,” Edison said.

Edison led the way upstairs, giving a tour of the couches and floating fireplace like she was the owner of the place. Jordan sat at a table and studied the menu while Edison chatted up her date. She hoped Amy couldn’t see her seething behind the menu.

Ten minutes later, Jordan and Amy had both ordered a turkey sandwich with baked chips and extra pickles. Jordan took their turkey symbiosis to be an omen of their compatibility. She was silently pleased that Edison ordered breakfast.

Jordan caught Edison's eye and made head motions away from the table. Finally, Edison figured out what Jordan was trying to communicate in charades. She stood and said, "Well, ladies, if you'll excuse me now."

"Where are you going?" Amy asked.

"Um…" Edison said. "Um…"

Jordan jumped in with: "She likes to eat alone.”

“I do?” Edison said. She quickly changed her question to a statement, “Yes, I do.”

“I’ll tell our waitress to send your crème brulee French toast up to the lounge," Jordan said.

"Why?" Amy asked.

"She has an eating disorder. That’s why she’s having breakfast instead of lunch at lunchtime," Jordan said.

"Oh no, but lots of people order breakfast food for lunch," Amy said, concerned.

"Not an eating disorder per se," Edison said. "More like an eating… phobia."

"You're afraid to eat?" Amy asked.

"With other people," Jordan answered for her.

"It's called masticaphobia," Edison said.

"Never heard of it, but I’m not a psychologist," Amy said. "If it would make you more comfortable we can leave. I don't want you to feel like…"

Jordan interrupted, "Stay, Ed. Sit down and eat with us." She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Please."

"Okay, I’ll try to overcome my fear of sandwiches and people eating sandwiches." Edison smiled tightly and sat back down.

Jordan sighed. It was obvious Amy wanted Edison to stay. A horrible thought struck her. What if Amy discovered that she liked Edison better? Ed was cute and very approachable. Jordan tuned back in to their conversation just in time to hear Amy ask Edison, "So what do you do for a living?"

Edison put her chin in her hand, looked at Amy and asked, "Well… Do you like toys?"

Jordan cleared her throat and kicked Edison under the table. "Ow!" Edison said and promptly kicked Jordan back, but Amy dove into her answer without missing a beat.

"Well, depends on the toy, I guess. I loved Barbies when I was a kid. I had maybe twenty Barbies and a dream house and a pink convertible. Tons of clothes for them and a cute little pink suitcase to carry them in. The problem was I had this puppy, his name was Humphrey, and he liked to chew on my Barbies whenever I left them on the floor, which was most of the time. So all my Barbies ended up with chewed off hands, gnawed feet, missing hair, teeth marks all over them. That's when I got the idea to be a doctor. I know that sounds stupid, but I turned the dream house into an operating room and surgically removed the chewed parts of the Barbies with steak knives. I made prosthetic devices for their missing limbs out of bent paper clips."

"Then we have a lot in common," Edison said. "I make prosthetic devices, too."

Jordan coughed loudly. Amy looked at her quizzically then asked Edison, "What kind of prosthetics do you make?"

Edison smiled. "Well… Do you like adult toys?"

"You mean like chess?" Amy asked.

"I love chess!" Jordan said much too quickly and way too loudly.

Edison ignored her and continued, "I mean like sex toys."

"Oh," Amy said. She took a sip of water, and said “Oh,” a second time.

Jordan interrupted, "Ed, that's not appropriate lunch conversation."

"She asked what I did for a living," Edison said. "I’m giving her an honest answer." She turned back to Amy and said bluntly, "I make sex toys."

"Oh," Amy said.

"I'm an inventor," Edison explained. "That's why they call me Edison."

Jordan explained further, "She invents sex toys. She has several patents on file."

Edison sat up straighter and said proudly, "Dildoes are my specialty. I've invented The Corndog, The Muffin Mucker, and The Plunger. Just to name a few."

"I see you’ve chosen very descriptive names," Amy said.

After a long silence during which they all looked at their menus even though they'd already placed their order, Amy said, "I need to go to the rest room. I'll be right back."

Jordan watched Amy walk into the ladies’ room before she turned and whapped Edison on top of the head with her menu.

"Ow!"