Another face I had to look out for.

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Trigger Warning [Sexual Assault]

“Why didn’t you tell us?” A colleague asked.

All of my coworkers looking at me in a collage of horror and concern. We were all at lunch discussing the termination of a coworker for sexual assault, whom I had just offhandedly mentioned, between bites of food, assaulted me my first week. As I thought up a response, what came to the forefront as my eyes danced between theirs was: because of that look, because you now see me as weak. As their eyes poured over with concern, I remembered his hand. His hairy knuckles, and how I felt them brush up against my leg, as he slid his chair up next to mine. I had just offered to show him something, and he took the opportunity to get close. I jerked, but stopped as he grabbed my leg. His callused fingertips running along the inside, past my shorter skirt. I was frozen. I didn’t look at him, but I saw his eyes on me. I felt a coldness fill in me. He groped at my skin, until he realized he wouldn’t get any further reaction from me, and he stopped, not wanting to test his luck, and spit, whispering “tease” under his breath before rolling back to his desk situated behind me. That was the last time I wore that skirt, or any skirt, for a while.

I was back in the conversation, and they were all still looking. I blinked, avoiding their eyes as I mumbled out an excuse, pulling at my hands in my lap. “I didn’t want to cause trouble. It was still my first week, and..” The coworker beside me, Mary, the one I offered to carpool, despite it being out of my way, shortly after the event, touched my shoulder, bringing my eyes to them. “Hey, it’s okay, let’s go to the bathroom,” she pulled me up, and shielded me as we walked. I felt the table’s eyes on my back as we left. I didn’t realize I was crying until I saw myself in the communal mirror. Tears falling silently as others shyly dodged past us to the exit. “Shit sorry,” I said while whipping my eyes. Pulling myself back to composure as quickly as I could manage. “No need to apologize. Do you want me to stay?” I nodded. “I won’t be long.” I hated the idea of everyone at the table imagining me crying in here. I hated feeling so weak. 

It only took me about 2 minutes for the redness in my face to go away. My eyes were slightly puffy, but I needed to stop their murmuring concerns. As we walked back, my eyes looked around at all of theirs, looking expectantly at me. I sat down with Mary next to me. Everyone was quiet. I looked back up and said, “sorry,” to what I didn’t clarify. “No apology needed,” one coworker chimed, being met with nods and quite yeah’s. “I mean, fuck him, he’s gone now, and as long as you know in the future you can tell us, it’s okay.” Mary beside me said, and I turned to look at her and gave her a small smile. “yeah, fuck him,” I said, nodding, met with echoed responses and eventual hoots, causing me to laugh a bit, which seemed to seep any remaining concern from their eyes. And with that, we switched to another conversation. And I felt better. But as I listened, I couldn’t help but feel heavy, knowing his was another face I had to look out for. It was a big city, but people like him always make it feel so small.