The construction worker who had been working on the house next door for several weeks invited me over to view his handiwork.
"Let me put my stuff down, " I replied as I came into my own house after dropping the boys off at school.
As I entered the house next door, the hair on the back of my neck immediately stood up, but I followed "R" inside.
I didn't want to be rude.The first thing I noticed was that "R" was the only person working that morning. Usually, there were several guys around. But, still, I went in.
I didn't want to be rude.We walked around the main level and "R" showed me the window he had carved out of the wall and the cabinets he had fitted. I complimented his work.
I didn't want to be rude.Then he told me there was a lot more to see in the basement. Even though I was uncomfortable, I went.
I didn't want to be rude.When we got to the basement, the talk changed from "R's" handiwork to my personal life.
"I noticed your husband is not home much."
"Is he a good husband?"
"Does he take care of you?"
"Does he take care of the children?"
As he asked me these things, I finally acknowledged what my conscience had been telling me since before I walked through the door.
I was scared out of my mind.
But I didn't want to be rude."Um, I need to go." I raced up the stairs and to the front door. All the way, I could feel "R's" breath on my neck. I was terrified. I made it to the front door and as I walked outside into the blessed morning air, "R" had one more thing to say.
"You are such a beautiful woman, Erin. I hope your husband knows how lucky he is."
"Thank you, "R". I've got to go now. Bye."
All because I didn't want to be rude.When I got home I locked the door. I locked all the doors. And I glanced out the window more times than I care to admit. Every time I left that day and for the next several days, I checked to see if "R" was there. He almost always was. And he would stop what he was doing and watch me as I came and went.
I don't think "R" was dangerous. I really don't. But, his behaviour was completely inappropriate and I have since reflected on that morning and wondered what I would have done differently had I acknowledged the hair standing on my neck in the very beginning.
But the need to "not be rude" won over. I wonder, how many women are truly victimized simply because we've been taught that girls are to be polite.
I want to teach
Selah differently. I want her to recognize when something isn't quite right....when
someONE isn't quite right. I want her to avoid scary situations.
Even if it means being rude.
