Written by Rebecca Mear
“I do not need to justify / my actions for something that never / should have happened / in the first place.”
To the man
who approached me on my daily walk,
asking if I needed a ride:
No. It was not okay
for you to pull over besides the hill,
roll down your window,
tell me that you saw me
every day, and did I want
a ride home?
Why would I accept
a ride from a stranger, especially
during a pandemic?
After you drove away, I tried convincing
myself that everything was okay, but
it wasn’t.
And why did I stop walking
in the first place? Maybe
you wouldn’t have stopped
your blue car if I wasn’t wearing
those red wedge sandals, or
my favorite maroon flowered
sundress—
No. I tried focusing on the music
I had paused to speak to you,
a silly song about a melon-
coconut breakup, but it didn’t
work. Glass Animals’ Dreamland
could not make me forget, and because
of you, I was too afraid to walk
my favorite route the rest of the summer,
a place where I felt safe, ruined
by a man who asked a young woman
to get in his car.
…
And to the police man
who told me, after I said
that no, I didn’t get the plate
number, name of the car,
that he was “probably just a nice
man trying to be friendly:”
not a chance.
No, I don’t know what the man looked
like, how old he was, the brand
of car—I was too busy justifying
the situation, pretending
to be okay, avoiding a sidewalk
panic attack.
Why, then, did I feel so guilty
for not paying closer attention?
For being mad over having to pause
my music? I do not need to justify
my actions for something that never
should have happened
in the first place.
But tell me: do you really believe
what you said, that he was just being
“nice” or did you tell me that
because you didn’t think I could handle
the inevitable truth?
