A fine Pat Barker story with a puzzling conclusion

I'd say Pat Barker, well known for her excellent trilogy on British soldiers in and after the first World War, has a story, Medusa, worth reading in the current New Yorker. The story marks a change for Barker (I think; I haven't kept up w/ all her recent work) in that it's a first-person narrative in contemporary setting (northern England, Northumberland specifically). The story (up to a point, which I'll get to in a moment) is entirely credible and extremely painful to read: A young woman walking home at night after laying out works in a gallery for what will be her first solo art exhibition, is assaulted by a man who bursts into her apartment, threatens her w/ a kitchen knife, and rapes her. Much of the first half of the story encompasses a narration of this attack, with the narrator's recollection of her frenzied thoughts as she struggles for survival, in particular afraid, of course, of the kitchen knife the man is holding. Then we follow the narrator through several months of recovery, including some sessions of therapy, as she tries to resolve her anger, her fear, to some degree her guilt. She feels increasingly isolated, and eventually decides she needs a change of scenery and heads off, alone, to Florence. There she spends a lot of time in galleries and museums (of course), and is particularly taken by a portrait of the eponymous Medusa, decapitated, her hair a mass of squirming snakes. While at this painting, a young man approaches her. They chat, go out for a coffee, and their conversation continues over dinner. When his order comes - steak, with steak knife - she flips out and heads to the ladies' room - completely understandable and sad, as he seems like a thoroughly nice and honorable young man - which brings us to the strange conclusion of the story (spoiler alert): She returns from the laides', sits at the table, and looks at her partner and turns him into stone (as per Medusa). Obviously this is not meant to be taken literally, but what exactly is Barker's point here? That she can no longer ever trust a man, that she will freeze every potential relationship? That there is something evil about this man, or maybe all men?, that only she perceives? That he is freaked out by her power and authority and he loses interest? I'm not sure how to interpret the closing line of the story, but it does provoke thought and it seems to strike the correct note: This story should not, could not, and did not end as a romance, that much is clear.