The Balance of Fear

This happened several years ago.
After the show, we walked out into the rain. I had not taken my bicycle as I usually did. My husband wheeled over his and said: “Well, you better take a taxi.”
Just then a taxi drew up to the sidewalk. I did not want to stand in the rain, so quickly opened the door and slid in. I raised my hand to wave goodbye but the car had started moving. Only then did I notice that sitting next to the driver was a giant of a man. A tough customer.
The two of them were silent, faces set in a sinister cast. The light in the car was dim, and that too, enhanced the threatening atmosphere. I rolled down the car window and tried frantically to locate my husband among the crowd in the street, nearly crying out for help. It seemed that he too, had become aware of the two drivers in the car. I caught a glimpse of him jumping on his bike to follow us. Unfortunately the theater crowd was too thick, and in the twinkling of an eye he was lost to me in the darkness.
The car was speeding away in the fast lane. Suspiciously fast, it seemed to me.
The two men were silent.
“Now I’m in for it.” My heart sank. And I’ve just drawn out some royalty payments from the bank. They’re right here in my purse!
I broke out in a cold sweat. I wanted to stop the car and get out, but couldn’t bring myself to say so. After all, they haven’t done anything to me so far. I looked out of the window. Yes, we were traveling in the right direction. I’ll just have to risk it, I thought to myself.
“Is it Garden Village?” the driver asked me gruffly.
I answered yes in a quavering voice. As my mind speedily went over emergency measures for self-defense, I could hardly pronounce the word yes. The car sped along according to my directions, made several turns and drew up at our old, familiar building.
I fell back weakly in my seat and gave a big sigh. Collecting my wits, fumbled for the fare in my purse. As I opened the car door, I picked up my courage and asked: “How come the two of you are driving one car?”
“With the times as they are, who’d be so rash as to drive out alone at night? If we meet with highway robbery, even two is not enough to cope!” the driver said resentfully.
“If it had been the two of you, we’d probably refuse to take the fare!” The other fellow flung the words at me icily.
The car made a U turn and sped away as swiftly as it had come. Still in a daze, as if snatched from death’s grip, I suddenly realized how lovable, how warm was this old, familiar, red-brick building standing solidly in the darkness on this rainy night.
But my story does not end here. I had walked up the stairs with a light heart, then discovered that I did not have my key. Forgetting the key was my pet vice. Right now the problem was that here I was, and my husband still on his way by bike, which meant that I had to sit on the cement floor of the landing to wait for him.
My watch moved slowly, and I soon lost patience. Out of pure boredom, I went downstairs again. The rain had stopped, and there was a light in our neighbor’s apartment. Why not go in for a chat to pass the time, I thought to myself. They were friends, and we chatted away gaily. It was a quarter past twelve when I remembered time, and stood up to go.
I knocked at our apartment door, and heard my husband’s voice inside, loud and tense. The door opened slowly and cautiously. My husband stood in the doorway, astonishment written all over his face. He grabbed me and pulled me in. “The police, d-d-did they find you so quickly?! I had j-j-just reported…”
What was he talking about? I was completely staggered.
“Do you realize what time it is? I saw those two men in the car, and couldn’t overtake you. I told myself not to worry. But you didn’t show up, so I got real scared. I was sure something had happened. Fact is, I’ve just put down the phone. The police asked me to recall the car number…” he spluttered.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry as I cut him short. “You were afraid of those two drivers, and they were afraid of you. Nowadays, taxi drivers use a bodyguard at night. It’s a kind of joint defense operation, and they’re defending themselves precisely against the likes of you. They said if you were boarding, they’d refuse to take the fare…”
He gasped in astonishment and I escaped a scolding.
As I am writing this article, an iron railing has been installed between driver and passenger in taxi-cabs, the so-called anti-robbery safety net. Drivers and passengers each keep to their won side of the railing. People say this is only effective against “honorable men,” that it wouldn’t keep away villains.
Nowadays, whenever I sit on my side of the railing behind the totally expressionless driver, I often think to myself: perhaps we are both honest people, but now deprived of the right to trust each other. For our own safety, we are made to guard against each other. We are contributing to each other’s fear. Perhaps this is fair. For the moment, fear is balanced. But this balance has been achieved by an accumulation of many fears which cannot be balanced, so we will probably always live in fear.