Wednesday, August 03, 2011


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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