August 3, 2011 by Amy
hiding
I used the excuse that I hadn’t brought a lunch to leave work and come home. “Be back later in time to pick up the rental car for my trip to KC!” I said cheerfully, as I breezed out the door.
Then I removed Zoe’s school magnet from the back of my car, climbed behind the wheel, and took a breath.
I’m didn’t come home because I forgot my lunch. Normally that’s a great excuse to pop out and get something from one of our local restaurants. I came home because, even though the physical shaking has subsided, I still feel frightened. Upset and nervous, shaken right down to my core.
I drove home hyper aware of every car around me. Colors, makes and models. Drivers. I saw one silver BMW and felt my pulse quicken. It was driven by a small Asian woman. Not a large, shaved-head goon dressed in business casual who screams “I will follow you…I will get you.”
My friend told me I should switch cars with M for a week or two. Because chances are since that is my normal daily route, it’s his, too. And since the man chased me through a parking lot he knows what my car looks like. What I look like.
I hate the fact that my 10-minute commute to work is now lined with fear. That I actually have to change my lifestyle to avoid another confrontation. The asshole has probably moved on and intimidated multiple people since our encounter this morning. They tend to do that, I think. But the victims do not.
I drove all the way down my street checking the rearview mirror incessantly, thinking, “If I see anything that remotely resembles a silver BMW, I won’t pull into the driveway. Just keep going.” What a ridiculous way to live.
The car is in the garage. I feel safer because the door is closed and no one can see it. I can hide in here and feel secure. He doesn’t know where I live. He doesn’t know my name. He can’t find me. I will never see him again.
I just need to convince myself of that.
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