God, this woman was delectable.  If she asked Amy to kiss it and make it better, would she?  That was a wicked thought.  Wickedly delicious, that is.  Wasn't that the jingle for Lucky Charms?  No, that was magically delicious. Jordan closed her eyes again and thought of sex.  She had learned this trick while going to the dentist.  Thinking about sex made having people poke and prod in your mouth much more tolerable.  Now, she had Amy to think of having sex with.  She knew she shouldn’t go there, but she went there anyway.

"Done," Amy pronounced.

Jordan opened her eyes again and gaped at Amy.  She had taken all the stitches out in less time than she could sing the Lucky Charms jingle.

"Wow," Jordan said for lack of anything better to say.

"Your hand is healing nicely.  Now let's see how it functions.

"You made it bionic, right?  'Cause I always wanted a bionic hand."

Amy laughed.  "Let's just see if you can open and close it first."

Jordan slowly made a fist while making bionic sounds.  A sudden shot of pain made her stop and gasp.  "Ouch."  She looked at Amy.  "That hurt."

"It will for a while. You did sever a tendon, you know.  Practice opening and closing, making a fist, squeezing."  Amy demonstrated the motion with her own hand.  She looked like she was milking a cow.  "You'll have to do some physical therapy in order to regain full use of your hand."

Jordan's world brightened a little.  "I get to come here and do therapy with you?"

"No, you can do it yourself.  At home."

"Oh," Jordan said when what she really wanted to say was "Damn."  She'd had a little ray of hope there for a minute.  Hope that she'd get to come to Amy's office and practice squeezing things.  Whoops, there were those magically delicious thoughts again.

Amy rolled her chair over to the desk, opened a drawer and rummaged around inside.  When she rolled back over, she handed Jordan a little yellow rubber ball.  "Squeeze on that ball.  Carry it around with you and when you have a spare moment, squeeze it.  In a few weeks, you'll have complete use of your hand again."

Jordan gave it a try.  She could barely make a dent in the ball.

"Keep at it.  You'll see."

She stowed the ball in the side pocket of her shorts.  Amy rolled away to the desk.

I want one of those rolling stools, Jordan thought.  I could get all around my house and never have to stand at all.

When Amy rolled back, she handed Jordan a stack of books.  Jordan accepted them with her good hand and was shocked when she saw they were the books she'd written.

"These are mine," Jordan said.  "I mean, they belong to you, obviously, but I wrote them."

"I bought them the other day.  I was wondering if you'd do me the honor of autographing them?"

"Yeah, sure.  Of course I will," Jordan said.  She was stunned.  She'd never been asked for her autograph before.

Amy handed her a pen.

Jordan opened the first book to the title page and had a sudden thought.  "Who should I make it out to?"

"Me," Amy said.

Jordan bent over the page and wrote:  Amy, will you go to lunch with me?  Jordan March.

Jordan nervously handed it over.  She watched as Amy read it and looked up at her.

"I'd love to," Amy said. "When?"

"Now?"

"Right now?"

"Do you not want to?" Jordan asked, her heart racing.  Thank God, Amy didn’t have her stethoscope with her – she might admit her to the cardiac unit for observation.

"No, it's the suddenness of it that startled me."

"We could do it tomorrow.  Or next week. Or some evening."

Amy shook her head, saying, "We can't do it in the evening."

"Um, okay, I understand.  You already have plans and…”

Amy interrupted her, "No, I mean you wrote 'lunch' so we can't do lunch in the evening."

Jordan quickly wrote in the next book:  Or dinner?

Amy read it and laughed.  "What are you going to write in the third book?"

Jordan shrugged.  "Depends on how well lunch goes.  When would you like to go?"

"Now?"

"Right now?"

"Isn't that what you said?  You wanted to do it right now?"

Jordan shook her head.  "I'm confused.  Are we still talking about lunch?"

Amy giggled.  Jordan liked it when Amy giggled.

"How about if I meet you out front in five minutes?"

"That'd be great," Jordan said.  “See you then!”  She hurried into the hall and headed to the elevator.  She felt like skipping.  She felt like skipping and singing and laughing all at the same time.


Three’s Company

Jordan exited the sliding glass doors of the hospital and did a touchdown victory dance that looked a cross between clogging and disco.

"Does this mean the date is on?"

Jordan jumped.  "My God!  Don't sneak up behind me like that!"

"I didn't sneak.  I walked like a normal person,” Edison said.  “If you weren't so busy spazzing out, you'd have seen me," Edison said.

Jordan went back to her jubilant state, hopping from foot to foot.  "She said yes.  She said yes.  She said yes!"

"So when’s the big day?"

"Today.  Now.”

"Right now?"

"Yes, right now.  She's meeting me out here in a few minutes."

Edison looked at her watch.  "Okay.  I guess I can do lunch."

"Not you," Jordan said.  "It's a date.  That usually means only two people.  You know, the whole ‘three’s a crowd’ saying."

“I thought it was ‘three’s company.’”

“That was the TV show, not the saying.”

“I liked that show.  I had a crush on the brunette.  What was her name?”

“Maryanne, I think.”

“No, that was the brunette on Gilligan’s Island.”

“Aha!  I know what you’re trying to do.  You’re trying to divert my attention so you can go on my date with me.  But it won’t work because her name was Janet,” Jordan said.

"I'll drive you, that's all.  I won't sit at your table or anything."

"You're going to stare at us.  I know you.  You're going to sit and stare and eavesdrop.  I won't be able to concentrate."

"I will not!  Besides, it's my car.  I drove you here.  How will you get home if I don't go and take you home after?  And you don’t want her to see where you live until the house is finished.  Your house will make you seem like you never finish a project. I read a book once that had this psychological test where people went into dorm rooms and did a personality profile on the person based on what they saw.  It was spot on.  That’s why if you’re checking out a person you should go to their place and see what it looks like, then you’ll know if you want to date them."

Jordan was horrified.  “The state of the house is your fault.”

“Ah, but you let me do it,” Edison said.

Amy appeared behind them.  "I'm ready."

Edison and Jordan jumped.  Edison said, "My God!  Don't sneak up on us like that!"

Amy laughed.  "Yep, that's me.  Miss Sneaky Pants."

“Edison is going to be our chauffeur.  She'll be driving us to lunch.  If that’s all right."

"Great!" Amy said. “I left my car at the dealer.”

“Is something wrong with it?” Edison asked, her I-can-fix-it-myself proclivity quivering with anticipation.

Jordan was certain if Edison ever got hold of Amy’s car it would end up being Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – except it wouldn’t be able to float or fly.  Or even drive.

“No, they’re giving it the once over so I can pick up my new car after work.”

“New car?” Jordan asked.  “What kind?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Are you going to show me the surprise sometime or will I always have to wonder?” Jordan asked.

“We’ll see how lunch goes,” Amy said, smiling mischievously.

"I'll go get my car," Edison said, giving Jordan the evil eye as she walked to the parking lot.

Jordan watched her go, thinking having Edison as a best friend was like having a cold sore – she never went away and as long as she was around, Jordan would never get kissed.


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."