SCSD

The only man she loved

“Look, Aussie, there are men out front.”

“Men?”

“Hurra! Quick, everybody. Pinky, Crocs, Llama Louie—I’m taking you all out so that the men will throw you around and I’ll catch you.”

“What are men doing in a female household?”

“I’m a male, Aussie.”

“You? You want to tell me that there are male Chihuahuas?”

“Aussie, stop abusing Henry.”

“I want to know what these men are doing here. This house is female: Me, you, Lori, and her sister. No men.”

“They’re putting solar panels on the roof, Auss. With solar panels, we’ll get more energy from the sun.”

“We shouldn’t be doing business with men. Men are dangerous. And why are they coming inside? They have no business inside a female house!”

“Checking the fuse box, going up to the attic, using the bathroom. Aussie, you’ve been afraid of men from the first time you came here.”

“Was not. Hung around with the Man till he died.”

“The first month you were here, you ran out the door every time he came downstairs. Only after that you hung out in bed with him.”

“Aussie, what happened to you with men when you were back in Texas?”

“None of your business, Illegal.”

“Are you suffering from PTSD?”

“I’m suffering from SCSD, Stupid Chihuahua Stress Disorder.”

“Did you grow up in an abusive home? Did men scare you?”

“You see what illegal immigration achieved? I’m being psycho-analyzed by a Chihuahua.”

“You know, Auss, from the time I was an adolescent I knew that men and women weren’t two discreet, separate entities.”

“Men are men and women are women. Of course, when you look at Illegal and me, you can get confused.”

“Aussie, I always felt we were all on some kind of gender spectrum. We all have male and female energies, see? When I was a girl, most of the girls I knew were involved with clothes, teasing their hair, and make-up. I couldn’t relate to that, not to mention that we didn’t have money for those things, so I tended to hang out with the boys. Now I feel the opposite, like women are closer to the earth.”

“I’m closer to the earth than you are, Aussie.”

“That’s because you’re shorter, idiot.”

“I mean, we women are more in our bodies.”

“How can you be more in your body than Henry is in his? Does he look to you like he’s reading Nietzsche?”

“Okay, Aussie, you’re right. In fact, you’re more right than you know. We used to label certain things as female or male. Raising children, caregiving, feeding and nurturing, creating a home and family—those are the things we used to classify as female energies. Physical work, business sense, and intellectual pursuits were considered masculine. But now there are plenty of people who disagree with all those classifications.”

“So, what happened to you in Texas, Aussie? Did a man yell at you or beat you? Did you have to hide in the closet?”

“I refuse to be a victim, Chihuahua!”

“Listen, Henry. A therapist might ask all these questions of Aussie, but we actually don’t know everything that causes us to act as we do. Every moment contains everything that ever happened and that will happen. Every one of us contains the same, see?”

“No, Senora.”

“Aussie may have had trauma in her past caused by men, but we don’t really know that that is the reason why she’s so afraid of them.”

“I’m not playing with any men. And I’m never going back to Texas.”

“Aussie, I should have called you Louise, from Thelma and Louise. She kills a man who tries to rape her friend but refuses to drive through Texas in order to get to safety in Mexico.”

“What happens to her?”

“She drives the car over the peak and right down into the Grand Canyon.”

“I love car rides!”

“She dies, Auss.”

“Oh.”

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