Blindsided - Let Go
A Buttons and Bows Tale
“We don’t even know how strong we are until we are forced to bring that hidden strength forward.” -Isabel Allende
The Proprietress stopped after reading the first section of the story. “You see what I mean?” she asked.
“Yes, it’s upsetting and intense for sure,” I agreed. “I’m hoping that this woman, Tizz, is okay - that she called the police and had this guy arrested. What an awful thing to have happen to you.”
“Well…there’s a lot more to the story. Shall I go on?”
“Of course!” I said. “Please keep reading. The author is a brave woman.”
NOTE: Part II of Blindsided was written by contributing author, Tizz O’Toole,
“A Week Later
Forgive. Let go.
The young woman didn’t go to the police. She never returned to her brand new job after that night, even though she had started only the week before. In fact, after that night, she couldn’t leave the house for weeks. One evening her date came to her front door. He held her purse and shoe. He didn’t knock, but just stood there, waiting. It was late and the children were in bed. She refused to open the door. He put her purse and shoe next to the door. She heard him slip a note into her mailbox. She watched until he drove away, then she quietly opened the door. In the mailbox was a note with three words: Please forgive me.
He came back the next night and the next. He never knocked, and she wouldn’t open her door. Soon her neighbors noticed the recurring visits. They called her to ask if she was okay, and she assured them she was. Sometimes he left gifts of food. She watched his face as he waited patiently for her to answer the door. He looked crushed, and ashamed. She felt her heart softening, but she still waited until he left to open the door.
One night she found a huge bag filled with hot food from her favorite Vietnamese restaurant. With no income, and three children, she could only feel relieved and grateful. The food was delicious, and she told her children it was a special treat from a friend. Her heart hurt as she said the word “friend,” because she had thought him so. She realized she truly wanted to forgive him.
The next night when she saw him approach her door, she called her next-door neighbor and asked her to stay with the children. When her neighbor knocked on the door, the young woman came out and thanked her for coming.
‘I’ll only be a moment,’ she said.
Her friend looked at the man curiously, then went inside and shut the door. The man watched the young woman carefully as she sat down on one of the chairs on the porch. She invited him, with a small gesture, to take the other seat. He sat down quickly and watched her face. She felt herself near tears, but her composure held.
Finally she spoke, too softly for anyone but him to hear.
‘Why?’
He was silent for a long time. When she looked up, she saw his face in the shadows, lit only by a distance street light. His body was stiffly straight, and tears ran down his face. Finally he spoke.
‘I did not think you would love me. I am not…American.’
Her sadness gave way to a shot of anger, but she saw he was about to say more. She listened.
‘I watched you for a long time. I loved you for a long time. I am sorry. I was wrong. I beg you to forgive me.’
She waited until she could compose herself. Finally, her anger gave way to compassion. Her words were sharp, but she spoke from her heart.
‘You are an ass,’ she said. ‘You don’t know me, or you would have realized how foolish it was to assume something so ugly about me. You wouldn’t have acted on this assumption in such a terrible way. And, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have put a drug in my drink. You wouldn’t have ….’
He winced, and she found she couldn’t say the word.
‘Don’t you know that I have felt the same about you, all this time? You are one of the most interesting, beautiful men I have ever met. I felt like a princess that night, until…’ Again she didn’t finish. He said nothing, but she could see he struggled with strong emotion. His hands clenched on his knees and he stared at the ground. Again, her compassion melted the anger. She touched his arm.
‘I forgive you,’ she said.
He didn’t move. She got up. ‘I’m going to go inside, now. Please call me next time you want to see me.’ She opened the door, walked inside the house and closed it quietly behind her.” - Tizz O’toole
Stay tuned for Part III dropping tomorrow…
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I do not condone this man thinking he had to drug her to have a sexual relationship with her, but I feel his gestures of attonement are genuine.
I applaud this woman's courage to hear him out.
As a survivor of sexual abuse in my youth, my ability to judge a man's motivations and character was deeply flawed by the grooming I experienced. My assumption is this woman has a strong ability to judge a man's motivations and character enabling her to deal with this much differently than I could have.
I am confused....😮💨