“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that crap, or Iwillfire you.”
“It’s none of your business, okay?”
The woman stared at Uma, clearly waiting for something more.
Another standoff, only this time, Uma didn’t have the strength. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t lie to Ivan and stonewall Ms. Lloyd. Finally, on a harsh exhale, she let the words come out. “I’m scared.”
“What you scared of?”
Uma didn’t respond.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Just go.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“You’re firing me?”
“I’m not firing you, girl. I’m telling you to go outside and get some fresh air.”
Uma turned to look out the window. “It’s raining.”
Ms. Lloyd blew out a grumpy sigh and pushed Uma toward the back door. “Go visit your boyfriend.”
“Hey! He’s not my—”
“Whatever.” The woman shooed her outside and closed the door, leaving her on the back stoop in the cold early evening.
Are you freaking kidding me?
Uma banged on the door, yelled “I need my jacket!” and waited as Ms. Lloyd shuffled toward the living room. After a couple of minutes, she returned with her fleece and purse. Left with no choice, Uma walked down the steps, through the soggy grass to her car. It looked like she’d be attending self-defense class that evening after all.
She was secretly glad.
* * *
It was a relief and a disappointment to see that the back half of the gym was dark when Uma walked in a few minutes later. No men duked it out on the mats. Instead, a gaggle of women took off rain gear and spread out, stretching and chatting.
Class was good, easier than the first time, although Binx was there, which wasn’t easy to stomach now that Uma knew about the ad.
They learned how to get out of a stranglehold from behind. A good skill, surely, but Uma couldn’t help but wonder: Would things really have turned out differently if she’d known how to protect herself the night Joey had held the gun to her head?
“What if he’s got a gun?” The question popped out of her mouth, mid-demonstration, louder than intended.
Her comment drew the attention of every woman in the class.
“The attacker?” Jessie asked.
“Yeah. What if…” Uma swallowed.One in five, she’d read.One in five women has been sexually assaulted at some point in their lives.These women weren’t judging her. Chances were, at least a couple of them had been hurt by a man. They were on her side. “What if your attacker has a gun?”
