We turned down the side street and it was almost pitch black. The main square where we wanted to go was up ahead. All we had to do was walk down this short stretch. That was all. I could feel him clench my hand in his, as he drew me near. I could see the whites of his eyes and I could sense his urgency.

There were three men on that street. Two on our side of it, and one on the other. They were all perched on the steps of three various houses. Under his breath he said, “Don’t make eye contact and walk fast!”

My heart was beating. Racing. I could feel the sweat on my brow as his hand held mine tighter still. We walked steadily and passed right by one of them without eye contact. Out of my peripheral vision I saw the one across the street stand and start crossing. Our pace quickened more. I believe my heart was thumping out of my chest.

In a matter of two minutes we were to the square. The men were behind us. As we walked even further from the dark street I looked at him. His eyes were intense and he let out a big sigh. I’m sure it was a sigh of relief. Relief that we were safe and that nothing bad happened. After all, you always hear stories about muggings happening on those dark side streets in New Orleans.

“We’re ok, baby,” he mumured, “and it’s a good thing that I carry this, ” as he showed me his opened pocket knife in his palm.

I would come to find out that when we rounded the corner onto that side street that he reached into his pocket and opened the knife. He held it in his right hand, concealed, and my hand, tightly, in his left. It was then that I knew he’d always protect me. It was then that I knew that my husband was a total bad ass.

This entry was posted on Saturday, November 17th, 2007 at 9:00 pm and is filed under NaBloPoMo, Papa the Pilot, Sunday Scribbling. You can follow any comments to this post through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.