my secret smile might be from rosa who i picked up in the arts district last night in the rain.
i have a terrible time with ADHD and even though i love recreational drugs these pharmaceuticals they have prescribed to me are the devil.
one made me wanna kill. one made me wanna kiss. and the one im on now suspiciously does nothing even though its 2x the dose of what it replaced.
one thing my condition does though, is that it allows me to drive beautifully in the rain in traffic, on a highway of drunks, at night while a young woman in super tight ripped pants tells me dirty things.
i can see every rain drop and predict all the cars movements.
i can also hear intentions and last night, dear reader, 29-year-old rosa wanted some.
was she beautiful? am i?
was she dying for it? was i?
is there one thing i would risk my job for as a rideshare driver which would end this slow drip of tales? um.
messy hair. thick glasses. sloppy firehouse red lipstick. all the things i love. and worse: she wanted to talk about books.
talk rosa. tell me everything.
i am a librarian, she revealed
libraries are my safe space, she said propped up back there. when i love a book it’s my new friend. i dont want the book to end. i speed read through most of it and hit the brakes as its wrapping up.
omg, rosa. ive never finished my favorite books, i said.
ME NEITHER! she shrieked, then leaned closer.
what are you reading now? i asked, knowing this was foolish because i havent read a book other than the bible in forever because of the previously said condition and impotence of unsaid meds.
i listen on “tape” now, i told her. is that reading?
im nearly done with a very suggestive version of harry potter, she said sheepishly as we splashed along the 101 into the valley past universal studios where the wizard’s LA castle looms, coincidentally.
its about after harry dies and many of the witches, like hermione, are rounded up and bred like in The Handmaids Tale.
bred?
bred, she said in a way that sounded a bit guilty and confessional. as if i was the only person she has ever admitted to loving this twisted and weirdly sexy book.
so wait, is it fan fiction? i asked.
yes! she smiled and flung back into her seat, beaming. what fan fic are you into anthony?
im a million years old, young rosa, that ship sailed.
turn around, she said. we were now speeding down the soaked 170 on our way to porter ranch. i want to see you, she said.
instead of obeying and crashing, i lowered my rear view mirror and turned on the dome light.
you dont look old, anthony, she laughed, taking a sip from her boba.
yr only as old as yr girlfriend feels, i informed her.
but wait a minute – what valley library has dirty ass harry potter fan fic in the racks? i asked her, resetting the mirror.
oh, im in a facebook group called The No Judgement Book Club where we read one of these trashy books in a week and then talk about it.
no judgement? i like that, i said. you know what the Good Book says about judging one another?
she said, yes i do. i was baptized two years ago, i love the Bible.
rosa, you wont believe this, but the Bible is the only book-book that can hold my attention any more.
there was a silence from the back seat. and then a quiet i love the Bible so much.
then, america, two suddenly turned-on strangers got into a very deep discussion about how amazing the Bible is as both a book, a sci fi novel, a collection of puzzling poems, and a fascinating study of human nature.
are we in love, rosa?
nervous laughter followed. and then, this is the best uber ride ive ever been in.
we arrived at her gated community and she said the code is {redacted} which i punched in.
the gate slid open and she said
remember it.