Nora Kinkaid Wants Her Life Back

Attacked

It feels like tidal waves coursing through my body right now. Everything feels disjointed and I want to instinctively crawl into fetal position to protect myself. My soul feels threatened. Spry what's going on? Help me to understand what is occurring. Calling in my own essence today and last night felt like diamond light coming down in the size of a needle.

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Two weeks into dating Oliver, I got lunged at on the street. I don't say attacked because technically I wasn't. Someone simply tried to attack me. Semantics I know, but they truly make a difference. Had I actually gotten attacked like this man putting his hands on me, I imagine I wouldn't be as calm as I am telling you about it. It was a near miss. Certainly a scary one but like I said, it wasn't quite a full blown attack. At least that's what I tell myself anyway. I don't dream about it much anymore. I can't really see his face either. In the beginning he looked like Mad-Eyed Mooney. It really ruined the fourth Harry Potter for me for a time. But then he started to disappear from my mind.

It really wasn't that remarkable of a day. I was minding my own business and happened to get lunged at on the street. It was that simple. I was going for a walk. It was a beautiful day in October and it would turn out to be one of the last sunny days I would see for a while. Yes, I know that sounds dramatic but I swear I'm telling the truth. Not just because I was bedridden a few weeks later. It was one of the last sunny days because Boston weather in the fall is erratic and that October, it was mainly gray. I was off from school and work so I was walking through downtown Boston. I had gone from Back Bay through Beacon Hill, past Government Center and Faneuil Hall, down towards Quincy Market and landed by the Boston Aquarium. I was headed towards the North End and planned on walking by the water because why not? It was sunny, broad daylight and the streets of Boston were full of people.

Besides I was a New Yorker. In the eight years I had lived in the city I had only had two scary interactions. That was a solid record for eight years. Only two off-putting situations that left me unscathed seemed like a rite of passage in the city. Plus both happened at night so daylight seemed totally fine. As I passed the Aquarium and headed around bend with the intention of going to Hanover Street, I was on the phone with my mom. We were chatting about upcoming projects and I was filling her in about Oliver. I kept him low profile around her. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up, especially my own.

I was about three hundred feet away from him when I first clocked him. He was an older man sitting on a ledge to my right wearing a bright yellow rain jacket. I don't know why I didn't think it was weird because it was hot and sunny out but I was by a wharf. It didn't seem that far-fetched to see an actual fisherman near boats. As I got closer he stood up and into my path. Again, I didn't think anything of it. I politely side stepped to the left apologizing as I went and tried to get around him. He moved in front of me. I thought it was a mistake, like those moments when you try to get around someone on the street and you both go the same direction.

But his wasn't a mistake. It was deliberate. I went right, he followed. I went left he followed. We were very quickly in this dance of back and forth and that's when I noticed the solo cup full of bright pink liquid. This man was drunk and he was muttering. He told me he wanted to "make me his bitch". He told me he would "fuck me up" and lunged for me. Thank God I was wearing sneakers because I took off running. I ran all the way around the wharf and up through the North End. I didn't stop running until I landed in front of Quincy Market once again and kept checking over my shoulder for his shadow. Logically, this man could not have run after me that far. He was easily two hundred and fifty pounds, five foot eight inches with gray hair, yellowed eyes and white skin. Which is what I told the police when I called them.

I caught my breath for a moment at the open market before sprinting back to my apartment. I ran the whole way, talking to my mom in what I hoped was a normal voice. I explained I was just jogging now instead of walking so I sounded out of breath. I knew she knew I was lying but what are you supposed to say? My mom was five hours away in New York. Why hand her fear about a situation she had no control over and no ability to fix? When I got back to my apartment I called Boston PD. The first thing the police officer said after I explained what had happened was "Well, why'd you wait so long to call us? He's probably not even there anymore."