More Than a Kiss

Amy’s Real Coming Out

Amy stood on the front porch of her childhood home and rang the doorbell. She hadn’t been home since the day she left for college. She nervously shifted from foot to foot. She was determined to really tell her mother and get this over with.

Meet Claire Stewart. Claire may have been fifty years old, but she looked more like forty. She was the summer of love personified – tie-dye, moccasins, beads and bangles. She always had a smell of incense or patchouli about her. When Claire opened the door and saw Amy she smiled and grabbed her in a hug. Claire was a big hugger.

“Amy! What a wonderful surprise!” She took a step back and her face darkened. “Nothing’s the matter is it?”

“No,” Amy said quickly. “I just wanted to… I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by.” Amy could kick herself. Where had her courage gone?

Claire pulled Amy into another big hug. Then she held Amy at arm’s length and wrinkled her nose. “You’re a little stinky, sweetheart.”

“Um, yeah… Can I come in?”

Amy followed Claire through a spotlessly clean house and into a sparkling kitchen. Not one piece of junk anywhere. Wow. Amy was flabbergasted. “Where’s all your dumpster stuff?”

Claire laughed. “I rented a storage unit to store all my art supplies. Coffee?”

“Sure. So, what made you decide to clean up the house? And what happened to your boots?”

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing to tell the truth. One day I got a phone call from a Hollywood producer.”

Amy raised her eyebrows.

“He wanted to know if he could interview me for his TV show.”

“Really? What show?”

“It’s called American Hoarders.”

Amy laughed out loud before she could catch herself. She clasped her hand over her mouth, saying, “Sorry. That’s not really funny.”

Claire laughed along with Amy. “Yes, it is funny. It wasn’t then, but it is now. Anyway, that gave me the impetus to clean up my life. And as for the boots, I threw them away, too.”

“I like the place now, Mom. It looks and feels like a real home.”

“Thank you, sweetie. Now what did you come to tell me?”

Amy didn’t know where to begin, so she just opened her mouth and hoped for the best. “I came here with a purpose. A reason. I need to tell you something.”

Claire put a cup of coffee in front of Amy and sat across the table. “Is this about you being a lesbian?”

Amy spit her sip of coffee across the tabletop. “How did you know?”

Claire smiled. “It was in the paper, dear, I think the whole city knows by now. And I have to say, I’ve never been prouder.”

“You’re proud that I’m a lesbian?”

“No, silly, I’m proud that you are creating art. I mean, the doctor thing is wonderful, but creating spontaneous art heals the soul. Your soul and the souls of others. I’m glad that you can not only heal bodies, but can heal souls.”

“You’re not freaked out that I’m going out with a woman?”

“God, no. To tell you the truth, I didn’t care for that Chad fellow.”

“Chad? How do you know about Chad?”

“He came over here one day and got some of your old things.”

“What things? When?”

“Nothing important, I don’t think. Some old stuffed animals from your childhood, your yearbooks from school. Hasn’t he told you yet? He was getting the things to give to you as a surprise. I hope I didn’t ruin it.”

“Did he say or do anything, you know, unusual?”

“Well, he did call me Mother. I thought that was strange.”

Amy decided enough was enough. She was going to give Chad a strong talking-to. And get her things back.

Claire continued, “Anyway, I’m glad you got rid of him. Now tell me all about this young woman of yours. Does she love you? What does she do? Is she as pretty as she looks in the paper?”

Amy laughed at her mother’s inquisitiveness and told her all about Jordan. About her fall from the window, how she stitched her up, their first kiss, everything.

“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Claire asked.

Uh oh, Amy thought, here it comes. She’ll want me to go dumpster diving with her. “I don’t know…” she stuttered.

“Well, I have the perfect thing. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and freshen up some? Maybe brush the coffee grounds out of your hair?”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Claire said. “Now go splash on some patchouli, baby, you really do smell over-ripe.”