I took my daughter to a donut place today.
There was a guy with a BigAssTruck™ who pulled up as we did and held the door when we walked in.
We made eye contact and I wanted to pee myself. He had a tight-lipped smile but his eyes were colder than my tit (some of you will catch that).
He walked in and went straight to the bathroom. He was in there the whole time we were ordering and I was just getting more and more frightened.
My kiddo did something silly; she effectively managed to distract me. We got our food and sat at a table way in the corner. We were out of sight for everyone. You had to go out of your way to find us. You had to be looking for us.
We had both finished our food and were chatting and sipping our drinks when I looked up and he was there. He was standing on the corner of the counter, messing with some spoons or napkins or something, that same tight-lipped smile frozen to his face while the rest of his face reflected nothing.
Except those eyes. The icy gem blue eyes which would normally lead to the soul but in him, led to a horrifying emptiness I wanted to both nurture and run from - holding my daughter - with the speed of a thousand cheetahs whose tails have been bitten by "what the fuck was that?!?" at the watering hole.
The eyes that said, "I'm going to shoot you two bitches first."
It was in that moment I realized I could do absolutely nothing. I couldn't save her. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't run for it. We were in a corner. My cellphone had died. I couldn't call for help. I couldn't walk past him and get in my car. I couldn't even risk making a break for it and diving out of the Emergency Exit; it was too close to him, I didn't know if it would actually open and exiting that way would give him my back. As much as I don't want to get shot, I *really* don't want to get shot in the back.
I wasn't scared. I wasn't angry or disappointed about losing my life. I wasn't filled with regret for all the things I hadn't done. I wasn't filled with shame for all the things I had done.
As strange as it sounds to even read this as I write it, I wasn't angry or scared for my daughter. No, let me rephrase. I was angry she would be so scared, I was angry I wouldn't be able to make this easier for her...but mostly, I was serene because I knew how completely powerless I was in the moment.
I was strangely calm. It is a very bizarre serenity to experience when you are moments from your death. I've always been pretty okay with accepting my death. (Between us, I accepted my mortality quite some time ago.) I just...wasn't expecting to leave just yet....
When you're torn between "I hope he kills me first because I couldn't bear watching him kill my precious girl" and "he has to sho...ki...she has to go first because watching me will be intolerable for her."
My daughter caught my eye nervously. She’d seen the same thing and was also feeling uncomfortable. The man ducked out of our sight.
Shit.
He appeared again and I took her hand and closed my eyes.
Silence.
Nothing.
I opened my eyes in time to see him walking out the door. Is he going out there to get…no?...he just got in to that BigAssTruck™ and drove away.
My daughter looked at me. "Mom? Are you okay?"
No. I am absolutely not okay.
"Yeah, hon. I’m fine. I think I should have ordered a smaller hot chocolate…"
There was a guy with a BigAssTruck™ who pulled up as we did and held the door when we walked in.
We made eye contact and I wanted to pee myself. He had a tight-lipped smile but his eyes were colder than my tit (some of you will catch that).
He walked in and went straight to the bathroom. He was in there the whole time we were ordering and I was just getting more and more frightened.
My kiddo did something silly; she effectively managed to distract me. We got our food and sat at a table way in the corner. We were out of sight for everyone. You had to go out of your way to find us. You had to be looking for us.
We had both finished our food and were chatting and sipping our drinks when I looked up and he was there. He was standing on the corner of the counter, messing with some spoons or napkins or something, that same tight-lipped smile frozen to his face while the rest of his face reflected nothing.
Except those eyes. The icy gem blue eyes which would normally lead to the soul but in him, led to a horrifying emptiness I wanted to both nurture and run from - holding my daughter - with the speed of a thousand cheetahs whose tails have been bitten by "what the fuck was that?!?" at the watering hole.
The eyes that said, "I'm going to shoot you two bitches first."
It was in that moment I realized I could do absolutely nothing. I couldn't save her. I couldn't fight back. I couldn't run for it. We were in a corner. My cellphone had died. I couldn't call for help. I couldn't walk past him and get in my car. I couldn't even risk making a break for it and diving out of the Emergency Exit; it was too close to him, I didn't know if it would actually open and exiting that way would give him my back. As much as I don't want to get shot, I *really* don't want to get shot in the back.
I wasn't scared. I wasn't angry or disappointed about losing my life. I wasn't filled with regret for all the things I hadn't done. I wasn't filled with shame for all the things I had done.
As strange as it sounds to even read this as I write it, I wasn't angry or scared for my daughter. No, let me rephrase. I was angry she would be so scared, I was angry I wouldn't be able to make this easier for her...but mostly, I was serene because I knew how completely powerless I was in the moment.
I was strangely calm. It is a very bizarre serenity to experience when you are moments from your death. I've always been pretty okay with accepting my death. (Between us, I accepted my mortality quite some time ago.) I just...wasn't expecting to leave just yet....
When you're torn between "I hope he kills me first because I couldn't bear watching him kill my precious girl" and "he has to sho...ki...she has to go first because watching me will be intolerable for her."
My daughter caught my eye nervously. She’d seen the same thing and was also feeling uncomfortable. The man ducked out of our sight.
Shit.
He appeared again and I took her hand and closed my eyes.
Silence.
Nothing.
I opened my eyes in time to see him walking out the door. Is he going out there to get…no?...he just got in to that BigAssTruck™ and drove away.
My daughter looked at me. "Mom? Are you okay?"
No. I am absolutely not okay.
"Yeah, hon. I’m fine. I think I should have ordered a smaller hot chocolate…"