More Than a Kiss

First Kiss

Amy parked her new Smart car right in front of the Portland Art Museum, marveling over how it could fit anywhere. It was bright yellow and cute to boot. She loved how it complimented her new Tardis-blue Converse high-top sneakers. She had also followed Isabel’s gypsy advice and purchased a dozen do-rags to wear while at work. She felt they gave her flair.

Amy hurried up the museum steps, her mind blank, her heart pounding, her body tingly. She was so deliriously happy at the prospect of spending the afternoon with Jordan that she didn't even feel tired or sleepy; she felt exhilarated.

She was barely inside the lobby when Jordan appeared in front of her. She was wearing a pair of baggy plaid shorts (she had shaved legs, thank God) and a plain white T-shirt. She had on sandals and her toenails were painted red. She was adorable.

"I hope I'm not late," Amy said for want of anything more original to say.

"C'mon," Jordan said, taking her by the hand and pulling her toward the escalator.

"What's the rush?"

"No rush. I just want you to see what I found."

Jordan pulled her up the escalator, taking the steps two at a time, and down the wide hallway. She pulled Amy into a room and stepped directly in front of her. "Close your eyes.”

"We're in a museum," Amy said, "I thought the whole idea was to see things."

"You will, you will, trust me. Close your eyes."

Amy did as told. Jordan took her hands and slowly walked her forward. Then Jordan’s hands were on Amy's shoulders and pressing gently down. She whispered, "Sit."

Amy sat. She felt Jordan sit beside her.

"Okay, now you can open your eyes.”

Amy opened her eyes. She saw a large painting, covering most of the wall. It was whirls upon swirls of bright, thick paint. Bold strokes of every color imaginable. A mass of writhing, curving, serpentine vividness.

"What do you see?" Jordan asked.

Amy looked at Jordan. "Is this a trick question?"

Jordan shook her head. "No, not at all. I'm just wondering what you see."

Amy looked back at the painting. She tilted her head to the right. "I don't know. It's interesting in a messy kind of way."

"Keep looking."

She looked at Jordan. Jordan was clearly enraptured with the painting.

Amy looked at it again, determined to see something. She tilted her head to the left. She still couldn't discern any shapes, any type of anything. She thought it looked like a colorful tornado. Or maybe a bunch of different paints being flushed down a toilet. Or a rainbow caught in a whirlpool.

She looked back at Jordan and studied her profile as she gazed at the painting. Amy asked, "What do you see?"

Jordan took her time answering, "Ecstasy. Surprise. Gratitude. Joy. Elation. Happiness."

"All that?"

"And more. So much more."

"Hunh," Amy said. Clearly she wasn't up to snuff on modern art. She looked back to the painting and tried to see what Jordan had described. "But those are feelings."

"True."

"So, you're telling me that you're seeing emotions when you look at this painting?" Amy asked.

Jordan looked at Amy and smiled. "That's what art does. It shows you emotions."

“Oh.”

"Close your eyes again," Jordan said.

Amy closed her eyes, wondering where Jordan was going to take her this time. But instead of taking her by the hand, Jordan kissed her.

Amy savored the feel of Jordan's lips on hers – the tingling, ecstatic, joyful sensation of a simple kiss.

"You can open your eyes now," Jordan said.

Amy did. She followed Jordan's gaze back to the painting. And this time, the colors swelled to life. They danced and twirled across the canvas. And she felt it. The feeling was tiny at first, no more than a pinprick. It centered in her chest then grew larger and larger. It was warm. Was she glowing? She felt as if she were lit from the inside like one of those paper Chinese lanterns.

Amy didn’t know how to describe it. She had no words for this feeling. It was more. More. So much more than a kiss.

“Maybe I do see a little something,” Amy whispered with her eyes still glued to the painting.