We weren’t the closest people to the man beating on his wife on a street corner. Lots of people were standing closer. But we were the only ones to do anything. I sprinted forward, then cast a look backwards towards Drea to let her know that if she wanted to stand back and just quietly call the cops that was ok but this was something I just had to confront. As I glanced back, she sprinted past me. (GAWD I love her.)
The man apparently had no problem hitting a woman in public, but as soon as we started yelling, he took off running, feebly offering over his shoulder, “she started it.”
The 9-11 operator picked right up and I began answering questions. As soon as the woman realized what I was doing, she begged, “no cops, please. He’s my husband.”
I said, pulling my mouth away from the phone, “Honey, he just can’t do that to you.”
She replied, “yes, he can.”
My heart just shattered as she ran off, maybe to rejoin him. Another woman, who had been standing there the whole time only now asked if everything was ok. I wanted to scornfully tell her how she was too late, but as I watched the sobbing wife run away, I realized that maybe we were all too late.