The Fuchsia is Bright

Fuchsia is listening to 100% by Sonic Youth.  She is biking through the city in her namesake hair and yellow bike.  Old men often get upset when she passes them with an “on your left” while blasting her music. No matter how politely she says it, they see it as an attack on their masculinity. They speed up trying to pass her, thus causing her to be stuck in traffic and not able to come back in the bike lane. THIS pisses her off. This daily misogyny that leaves her having to apologize for being faster. She overtakes the old man and gives the finger. He yells something indistinguishable. “Buhbye” she says under her breath. 

She pulls into the hotel garage.  Sam let’s her park her bike in the cage there.  Just in case some old man actually catches up with her and decides to take his hatred for women out on her bike.  It’s happened before. Come to think of it, it happened in a bike cage.  

“Time to make the donuts”. Fuchsia said slyly with a sigh.   

She took her bag with her “kit”.  She stopped in the bathroom for a lady’s bath to quickly refresh herself. It was pretty sticky out.  

Fuchsia walked up to the elevator and got off on the fourth floor  . . Slowly walked to room 403.  

She was a bit nervous even though she had a tough exterior. This client liked to be walked on.  Literally and figuratively.  Yet, he also projected a different exterior.  His name was . . . not important.  But he went by Mr. Red.  Fuchsia rolled her eyes thinking about it.  Doesn’t he know we run background checks and know his real name when he books?  He can’t be that dumb . . . Yes he can.  

She prepared the kit. She always got the rooms first and asked clients to come 15 minutes later so she can set up.  It was always safest that way.  

This time was a little different. Mr Red was into ball play.  No, not baseball. He wanted a little more attention there.  Instead of nipple clamps, there were scrotum clamps.  But on the end of one of these clamps, Fuchsia attached an extra surprise. So subtle, she doubted he would notice, especially when he’ll be tied up and blindfolded .  

As Fuchsia loaded the small syringe she thought “The Fuchsia is bright.” She laughed to herself.  Her grade school teachers often said this to her sarcastically in front of the whole class. They thought she was slow because she didn’t like reading out loud and tripped over the words as she spoke. Yes, it’s her real name, and yes, teachers can be bullies, too.

Indeed, the future lit up. 

Mr Red knocked the familiar code.  Fuchsia simply said “come in”.  The door creaked.  Fuchsia never flinched.

Chapter: One Way Street (continued)

Dee was trying to be a good friend to Laura, but she was still thinking about her phone call with Dana from earlier. Her mind was in several places at once. She had just put in a full night’s work and was off to the lab to work on her PhD research. Yeah, she wanted to be that kind of doctor. She found she didn’t have the patience for hospital politics or hierarchy. Not to say research didn’t have it’s own brand of that, but she found herself in a specific kind of lab. Parasitology was her passion, ever since she saw Sigourney Weaver in Alien, she was fixated.

The so called mandolin parasite was her main topic. It was a little known species that appeared to be “highly intelligent”. It took Dee a while to wrap her brain around how a parasite could be considered “Intelligent” . . .but then she thought of people. As a species, people are considered intelligent, but individually, that can vary greatly. To other lifeforms, we may not appear to be intelligent. Dee was determined to prove this creature to be worthy of the same label.

Dee later went home to see her partner Ken. He had arrived home earlier from work and was making dinner.

“Mmm . . .smells great” Dee noted with a relieved smile. She felt comforted by Ken’s relaxed nature after her stressful day. They often took turns making dinner depending on their schedules.

“What’s going on?” Ken replied, possibly referring to her early start to see Laura.

“Not much new. Laura tends to fall too hard.”

“Maybe she expects too much from people”

“No, that’s definitely not it.” Dee got defensive of her friend, knowing she actually expected things to go wrong all the time, because they often did for her. It would have been nice if something changed.

“Well, this is almost ready.”

“What are you listening to?”

“It’s just a podcast about some of the restrictions going on”

That’s all Dee needed to hear to start releasing all her thoughts on the topic. Ken was used to this and welcomed the conversation. He liked talking passionately about politics as well as fun silly banter. As long as there was a balance.

“You know what? If it wasn’t women’s bodies dying because people cared more about fetuses, they would change their minds.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s say the fetus was in trouble of being a stillbirth. What if the only medicine was to kill the father and use his stem cells as the cure. So to save the fetus, doctors had to “let the father die” . . .the same they do to women. I bet they would find that to be murder, which it is. So why are doctors allowed to murder women to save a fetus?!” Dee was visibly upset. Her mother had died in childbirth with her brother when she was 10 for the same reason. Her mom didn’t even want another kid, but there was no choice. “Barbaric assholes”. Dee finished.

“Come here”. Ken held Dee close and gave her a long hug. “They are assholes. But you’re going to change the world with your research. I’m trying to do the same through journalism.” Ken was determined to hold onto his career though people seemed not to care about the news anymore. He used to consider Dee’s career was the future and his was a dying breed. Now he thought, science may also be on the way out. People don’t seem to care about that either.

“Maybe we should start a podcast”. Ken said quietly. Dee laughed.

“I may already be starting one with Laura. She joked that we should act like Stepford Wives who want husbands and have to speak a certain way and only have one emotion.”

“What emotion is that?” Ken smiled, excited to hear the answer.

Dee did her best fake woman impression (because no real woman sounds like this on purpose, though men think they do) . . . .

“Hiiie. I don’t have any real thoughts or anger about that. My only opinion is that you’re hilarioussssss”

This made Ken laugh out loud. “What would you call it?”

“Pod People” Dee winked.

One Way Street

Laura had met Jim in a small coffee shop she enjoyed. I have to stop meeting people at places I like, she thought to herself. She was unsure about him from the beginning, but people also take awhile to warm up to her, so she empathetically gave it a shot.

Jim was a tall sturdy man who was a bit intimidating to Laura when she first saw him. He looked like a guy who would pretend to like her and then make fun of her to his friends in high school. Laura wanted to be open minded and not judge books by their cover. She’d been wrong before.

She liked how honest he seemed and over time slowly fell in love with his smile, laugh, humor, and touch. He shared things (good and bad) with her and she listened. She felt she could start to relax and be herself.

“Well, that was a mistake” Laura said grimly looking up from her coffee.

Dee knew Laura had been crying. Her face was defeated and she looked like she hadn’t eaten for days.

“Why didn’t you call me when it happened?”

“That’s how people disappear” Laura monotoned.

“What people?” Dee asked feeling a little insulted.

“Boyfriends, family, friends . . .people. As an autistic person, I’m not allowed to have emotions like neurotypicals. They can hang up on you, but if you do the same to them, you don’t get forgiveness. You’re not worth it. “

Dee was concerned Laura was using the general “you” . . .she seemed to be trying to distance herself from it to not start crying again. She had to make herself cold enough to survive. That asshole Dee thought. She was just getting used to Laura being her silly, absurd, weird, and warm self again with the occasional bad day. With the way the world was turning, it’s tough to stay positive for anyone. Dee had her share of bad days. But her partner allowed her to be herself and experience her good and bad. She wondered if autistic women do have it worse in that they’re never given that chance. They’re told to mask and not let people see who they are. Who they are is unacceptable.

“Don’t be concerned, but I called the suicide hotline . . .I had no one to talk to.”

“Like I said, you could talk to me”

“I was pretty low and having a panic attack. I don’t want to frighten more people away. I learned that the hard way.”

“What about the therapist?” Dee was actually curious how that was helping.

“He canceled my appointment and never gave a new option.” Laura let out a desperate laugh. “Even therapists dump me.”

“Okay, let’s not have a pity party. Look at it this way, I think this guy was pretending to be something he’s not to get what he wanted and now you know the truth.”

“But I really liked him . . more than that even”

“You liked what he was pretending to be. He wanted you to listen to all his problem and feelings, but the moment you started sharing yours, he shut down. He doesn’t want a relationship . . He’s not ready for someone else to have a full range of emotions . . .He wants a therapist. I think you need to send him a bill by the hour.”

Laura laughed. But she did just want to talk to explain herself. That never seems to be an option for her. People don’t treat her like a normal person. She started to think of herself as a supervillain because of this pattern. Did she have powers that she didn’t know about . . .like turning men to stone when they look at her? Was she invisible? Why can’t people see her?

“Was he even real”. Laura said outloud. I think I manifested him. “I came up with this idea of a man in my head that would be close to ideal and he appeared.”

“Then he vanished” Dee interjected.

“Exactly . . .He never really existed.”

“You showed me a photo of him. The man exists.”

” I guess” . . .Laura sighed.

“I need to go for a run and think.” As Laura said that, she forgot that she had already gone for a run. It was pretty hot out, so she took a gummy and rode her bike with her radio blasting Tove Lo and Janelle Monae. Her new favorite songs were “Bitches,” “Lady Wood”, and “I like That.” After a while of riding with the light shining through the trees, away from most people and cars, she started to feel numb. She just blended into the trees and the heat.

Best Medicine (From “Dating Myself”)

Dr. Dana Evans was finishing her clinical appointments when the receptionist called saying a patient had come in with an urgent matter.  It was Steve Wright.  He was the patient of a white male colleague of hers and demanded to see that doctor only.  He was told Dr. Evans was the only doctor on duty unless he wanted to wait until Monday.  He had reluctantly agreed to Dana’s dismay.  

“Okay . . . send him in” she said calmly with a sigh.  

Steve was a slightly burly man, in his 50s with a buzz cut and clean shave.  Yet, he wore a polo and khakis.  But now he was in a backless gown with his fat ass hanging out.  He seemed disgruntled already and was uneasy.  

“What brings you to the infectious organism clinic today, Mr. Wright?”  

“Don’t you know? Aren’t you a doctor?” He questioned

“Yes, Mr Wright. I am actually in the top 5 doctors in my field of study, but I still need to know what brings you in here today.”  (I don’t read minds -she thought).

“I think I have an STD  . . .in my balls.”

It took all of Dana’s strength not to burst out laughing at the way Steve stated this.  Dana had empathy for good people in similar situations and was very professional, but Steve was a problem patient.  He always talked down to women, especially black women like herself, and doubted their competency.  She kept it to herself, but she did not care for Steve.  Even his own doctor wasn’t a fan.  But the CEO was a “family friend” and they could not refuse his care.  

“Did you have an exposure or encounter recently?” Dana continued.

“Yeah . . Look, I’ll just say she was a dirty whore”

“I don’t need to know that” Dana cut him off.

“All I know is my balls are enlarged and on fire. I’m not waiting 6 hours for the emergency room”

“Let’s take a look” she said as she slapped her gloves on (a little to annoy Steve)

“Scoot Forward and put your legs in the stirrups . . . .Lift your penis” (this wasn’t heavy lifting).

“Please cough”

“Hmm . . .” Dana let out a sound upon her examination of Steve’s testes

“What?” He asked nervously.

There was a small discreet puncture mark in the scrotum.  It looked like after someone gives a shot or draws blood.

“How long ago was this encounter?”

“I think about a week”

“Come back in 6 weeks.  It’s too early for me to test anything.  I’ll write a prescription for anti-itch cream.”  She didn’t mention the puncture.


Dana had a suspicion.  She waited until Steve had collected his things, and grumbled out of the office to make a followup appointment.  She waited until he left the building.  As soon as she had a break, she walked briskly to her office, closed the door.  She called her college friend Deirdre (or Dee).  

“Hey Dee. I hate to call with a nerd question, but you know me.” She attempted to joke

“Oh, no problem Dana.  I would like to actually sit down and get a drink together sometime or even coffee if I’m up earlier. But go ahead  . . . geek out.”

Dana’s tone became serious and quiet after a pause “Are you still involved with the Mandolin Parasite research?”

Dating Myself

Dating Myself . . .A later chapter

Laura was putting the last pieces in place when she got a text.  It was Mistress Dee (or just Dee to Laura).  

I’m downstairs

Laura wasn’t sure if her creation was ready to be seen, but she trusted  Dee’s opinion and knew that she wasn’t the judgmental type.  Dee had seen stranger strangers before in her line of work.  

Dee was tall with curvy, yet hard features, black curly hair which she often wore in a Swedish Heidi braid style, and wore all black.  She dressed to intimidate and was paid well for it.  It made her feel powerful and allowed her to feel some control in the chaotic world.  She grew up as a tomboy and liked feeling feminine and strong.  

She came to check up on Laura.  She hadn’t seen her in days and knew Laura had a tendency to get upset and isolate for days on end obsessing over something.  She worried about her like a sister.  As someone who was also ostracized in childhood, she could relate. 

Laura buzzed Dee in and paced the room.  

She’s been loyal as a friend since college. She wouldn’t think I’m crazy.  She already knows I’m a little crazy.  Ha!!  Laura became giddy like a mad scientist. 

She unlocked the door just as Dee turned the handle.  Dee’s eyes were wide.  

“You alright?”  

“Yeah, just working. You?”

“It’s been a busy day . . Can I ask what you’re working on?”


“And?” Dee nudged

“Oh, yeah, you want to see it?” Laura almost stated bluntly.

Dee was confused, but her curiosity was peaked with a hint of relief.

Laura walked briskly into the kitchen.  Dee removed her long clunky boots at the door and left them on the doormat that said “Home is Where the Hermit is”.   Custom made cuteness, Dee thought.

“I think I’ve made hope,” Laura stated almost surprised at herself. “I call him Harold . . . Harry for short.”  Dee could only think for a second that Harry sounds a lot like Henry, when her thought was interrupted  by Laura pulling a bedsheet off an object like she was Penn or Teller  revealing how stupid anti-vaxxers are.  

Dee stepped back in shock. “Who?. . .” she started.  Laura- “He’s my invention”

“I’ve finally built what I wanted.  No one understands me, right?”

“I understand you . . .At least I try”

“I mean romantically . .as in a partner.  So many women have to weed out the misogynists, the sociopaths, the sloths, the guys with ridiculous standards, the unintelligent . . often these guys are the same person.    But now . . .I have Harry.”  

“Hi Dee, I am Harold . . .but Laura can call me Harry.”

Dee Laughed.

“What? . . I like being special” Laura smirked.

“He sounds exactly like that ASMR that Robert does.”  

“Well, he did help me and lent his voice for it”

“Laura,”Dee said, grinning.  “You should have called him Rob, as in Robot.”

“Hardy Har Har.  I did program him to say some of the same things in that ASMR video.  It was too good not to.  He is intelligent, can match emotion (even with me), is funny, appreciates my dark humor, has a man giggle, is VERY imaginative, and quite attractive, if you don’t mind me saying so.”  

“You are an artist.”

“Yes. I had some help with the molding.” Laura stated.  “Ooh, also he makes espresso.”

“You mean from the machine?”

“ No, I mean he has a built in espresso maker.   . . perfect for traveling together.” Laura seemed most proud of this for some reason.

Dee closely examined Harry for a while in silence.  “Why’d you think of this?”

“Well, you know I got tired of people thinking I was robotic and them not being able to figure me out?   . . . I decided maybe a robot could.”


You accuse me of being an iceberg.

An emotional iceberg.

Ha! If I’m an iceberg,

I am fresh and independent

Broken away from the stagnant ice.

You have pushed me away from the

ancient glacier that cannot be sustained.

I choose to float on the sea.

Stop sending ships after me.

Stop being surprised that there is

More beneath the surface

That you never saw.

Only the explorers capable of reaching

greater depths

have seen these parts

of me.

But you . . .

You accuse me of being an iceberg

I touch everything that comes

too close.

I tear into the depth of everything

in my path.

Only the well built will survive

my inquiry.

You are a puddle.

I only touch you when I can’t avoid you.

and I avoid you at a distance.

You show all of yourself right away.

I see your entirety instantly.

You can only reflect the surface

of other things,

even when they pass through


But I can see through you.


have never seen