Every Saturday morning, I look forward to sleeping in,..sort of. My little nymph is now old enough to wander into my room, when she awakes, and snuggles in bed with me after her step dad has already left for work.
Then I'll plan our breakfast and think about all the cleaning I have to do or whatever events we have to attend once my fiance returns from work. Every other weekend I drive my daughter to her dad's for the night and half of that time, I can't be trusted with that kind of freedom. Mwahahaha...another story.
I think back to when I was single and childless, living in an apartment with my best guy friend, more like a brother, and what that life was like. There is one moment that will forever stick out to me because it was scary as hell. Not that I hadn't put myself in precarious situations before, but this one I had no part in. I just knew and still know that if I had reacted any differently, I don't know what would have happened to me, but most likely it would have been bad.
I parked in an underground ramp when I lived there. It was very convenient and worth the extra $40 a month. When I would pull into my spot, the door to the stairs and the apartments were practically behind my vehicle. At the top of the landing of the stairs you could find my door one door away. It was pretty awesome, especially for a lazy gal like myself.
Back in the garage, at the end opposite of where my vehicle sat, was the big door that cars would enter through and a small door for people to walk through right next to it. Not 10 feet from those doors was another red door that would take you to the extremely slow elevator. It was always much faster to take the stairs, unless you had your arms full. Then you would patiently wait the minute or two it would take for the elevator to get to you.
Even as convenient as my location was, sometimes I did not feel like hiking up the stairs...I told you I was lazy.
On this particular day, I pulled into my parking spot in my white buick rendezvous after work. It was winter and dark by the time I got home. Shortly after I shifted the transmission into park, the hairs on the back of my neck literally stood up. Something felt off and I was nervous immediately. I saw or heard no one when I entered.
I opened the door to my car and slowly climbed out looking around. I still saw nothing. I began to walk toward the steps, but before I reached the end of my vehicle. I saw them. Two men, roughly my age, that I had never seen before. They were in the ramp of the garage and looked lost. That seemed odd to me, as they shouldn't have been able to be there without having keyed access, so I made a quick decision to go toward the elevator. I wouldn't look rude or scared. I would just look like, that was my intention the whole time. (Just in case I was wrong about my suspicions about them) Until they started calling out to me.
It started with excuse mes and ended with "Is she fucking deaf?" Yeah I'm gonna turn around as a single 20 something girl in an enclosed garage to two men who are clearly following me and getting more and more agitated with me. That didn't seem like the smart thing to do.
As I got close to the door for the elevator I remembered how slow that it was and how even more trapped in much smaller quarters I would be. And even less exposed to help, should I have needed it. I then decided to go out the little "people" door by the garage car door. I hit the outside and trudged through the snow to get to the steps.
I fumbled with my keys before I even got to the door, so they would be in my hand and hopefully quickly get me into my building. I could still hear them behind me. My heart raced and it felt like all the blood had drained from my face. I managed to get the door opened quickly. I rushed through it and bolted inside the foyer, but I was still unsure if they were truly a threat or fellow residents. And I was still terrified. I was worried if I took the time to turn around and make the sure the door closed, that I would come face to face with them.
Once half way down the hall, I no longer knew if they were still following me, I just ran all the way to my apartment and burst into the room, upset and terrified, calling out to my roommate. I just had to say I was being followed and he was out the door, no questions asked.
He came back a minute later, having found no one. Maybe they just wanted help, maybe it was innocent, but something felt off before I even saw them, and I'm not for one minute regretful that I followed my instincts that day.
When I was getting ready to leave the complex permanently, I had brought this up as a complaint about feeling unsafe. They then proceeded to yell me at me for not telling them about this. As much as I could understand their point, I don't think shaming and scolding women that find themselves in these situations to be the best reaction, but it's in the past. And perhaps they and myself learned something. Next time I'll say something, but what if I was wrong? What if they had no ill intentions and I got them in trouble for nothing? And I didn't exactly know who they were anyway. True, their "cameras" recorded, but no one actively watched. I want them to help me in the middle of trouble, not solve my murder later.
And I'm glad for my less than exciting life (as it may seem to others) that I now lead. However, now I get to worry about things like this happening to my beautiful child. Grrr....
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