More Than a Kiss

The Ice Queen Cometh, Continued

From the safety of under the table, Jordan stared at the pointy toes of Petronella's high heels and listened to the conversation between her and Edison.

Petronella: Hello, Jordan’s little friend.

Edison: Hello, Dr. Bleeker. You look like an ice sculpture today and I mean that in the nicest way possible.

Petronella: Where is Jordan?

Edison: I'm fine, thank you for asking. How are you?

Petronella's right toe tapped three times.

Petronella: I have no fooling-around time. Where is Jordan?

Edison: Okay, I give up, where is she?

Petronella: I need to speak with her. It is urgent. There is an upcoming event that I would like to invite her to attend.

(Petronella did not speak in contractions. As an admitted member of the bourgeois, she considered contractions too lower class.)

Edison: I'll be happy to give her the message. Will there be anything else?

Petronella: No.

Petronella's shoes walked away.

Edison: You have a nice day, too. And by 'have a nice day' I mean go fuck yourself.

Suddenly, Petronella stopped.

"Oh, shit, oh, no," Edison said in a whisper to Jordan. "The Ice Queen is talking to Amy."

Jordan peeked over the top of the table and watched helplessly as Petronella blocked Amy's path and said something to her. Amy tilted her head. Petronella spoke again and pointed at Amy's feet.

After Petronella walked away, Amy looked down at her feet. She raised a shoe. There was toilet paper stuck to her heel. She tried to step it off with her other shoe. It got caught on that shoe. She tried to kick it off. Finally after several electric slide dance moves, Amy succeeded in ridding herself of both the toilet paper and her dignity.

Edison lifted the edge of the tablecloth and looked down at Jordan. "You can come out now."

Jordan shook her head. "Huh uh. It could be a trick. Go follow Petronella and make sure she got in her car and drove away."

Edison nodded. "Good idea."

"And make sure she isn't just driving around the block either."

Just as Edison was about to walk away, Amy's feet appeared. “Where’s Jordan?”

“She’s under the table. I’ll be right back,” Edison said.

Amy squatted down and looked at Jordan under the table. "Are you hiding?"

Jordan fake-laughed. "Hiding? Me hiding? Don't be ridiculous."

"Then what are you doing under the table?"

About a billion answers to that question flitted through Jordan's mind: She was looking for a lost contact. Retrieving a dropped fork. Checking the cleanliness of the floor. Looking for gum under the table. Doing a study on the shoes of people in Portland cafes. Jordan reached into her grab bag of answers and pulled one out at random, and it just so happened to be partly true. "I was, uh, scared."

Amy's face softened. She crawled on all fours under the table and sat next to Jordan. "What are you scared of?"

Jordan said in a tiny voice, "I'm scared you don't know this a date. You know a date-date. With me."

"I know it's a date-date," Amy said.

"Really?"

Amy nodded.

Jordan asked, "And you're not weirded out or anything? You know, being on a date-date with a real live lesbian?"

Amy shrugged. "I'd be more weirded out if you weren't real or alive."

Jordan smiled. "How do you think it's going so far? For a first date, I mean."

"I think…"Amy said, "I think I want you to kiss me."

Jordan held her breath, closed her eyes and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips were only a fraction from Amy's when a waitress holding a basket of sandwich, chips and pickles in each hand, peeked under the table. "Who had the extra mayo?"

Kissi interruptus.