That kind of surprised him, and he said that he had a knife, and he'd use it. My response was that in that case, not only would he be sorry that I hadn't killed him, but that he'd find himself in the jail ward of the hospital, too. That seemed to get through to him a little, and when he realized that not only wasn't I afraid of him, but that he might actually get hurt himself if he tried anything, he decided to try the pickings elsewhere – heading off away from us and the apartment complex. When he'd gotten a hundred yards away, or so, both Robyn and Lucy came up to me and wrapped their arms around me. When I put my arms around them, I could feel them shaking from both fear and their sobbing. I softly assured them that there wasn't anything to worry about, and that it was all over, and that nothing was going to happen. After a couple minutes, they'd gotten themselves together again, and we went into their apartment.
When we got inside, Robyn said that she was exhausted, and was going to go to bed. She heading down the hallway toward her bedroom, leaving me with her mother in the living room. We kind of stood there, awkwardly, for a minute when she said that as much as she liked dressing up to go out, the clothes were never really meant to really be comfortable in. I laughed in reply, and admitted that I was a lot more comfortable in jeans and sports shirts, myself. She asked if I'd mind if she went in to change, and I suggested to her that if she didn't mind, I'd go back to my place to change, too, and be right back. She thought about it for a moment, and said that rather than us keeping Robyn awake, maybe it would be better if she came over to my apartment, instead. I agreed, and let myself out as she was heading back to her bedroom.
I got changed and had hung my suit back up when I heard Lucy knocking at the door. I opened the door for her, and found her standing there in the too-small T-shirt and frayed jeans I'd seen her in before. And it was obvious that she thought the temperatures out were a little cool, because I could see her nipples poking out the front of the shirt.
I quickly invited her in, and asked her if she'd like something to drink. She said that a Coke would be fine, and after a couple moments, asked if I had anything to put in it – saying that she still felt a little shaky from the little encounter outside. I told her I had some rum, and she said that was fine, make it a strong one. I warned her that it was 151, and she said that was even better, and she still wanted a strong one.
I filled a water glass about half full of rum, dropped in a single ice cube, and filled the glass the rest of the way with part of a can of Coke; then opened a can of Coke for myself, and went into the living room. She was sitting at one end of the couch with her legs under her again, and I handed her the glass and the rest of 'her' can of Coke. She felt how much was left in the can, gave me a curious look, and took a big swallow from the glass – and promptly started gasping. When she'd caught her breath again, said "I said 'strong', not lethal!", and laughed a little bit. I laughed back, and reminded her that I'd warned her it was 151, and besides, she could add more Coke to it, and start thinning it down. She took another – smaller – swallow from the glass, promptly filled it back up from her Coke, and asked me if I wasn't nervous about what had happened outside.
I told her that I wasn't since it really hadn't been anything too serious.
She looked surprised at that, and said that it had seemed pretty serious to her. I replied by telling her that it wasn't as bad as it might have looked: the kid was young, obviously stoned on something, and if she looked close, she could have seen that he wasn't in very good shape, either. She thought about that for a second, and said "Yeah. But he still had a knife!". I pointed out that he hadn't*shown* a knife, so it was only the word of a stoned thief that there was one, and that even if he did have one, he was still both young and stoned. She asked "But he still might have hurt you!", and I told her that I didn't think he could have hurt me unless I'd gotten real clumsy or did something real stupid. She asked what I meant, and I had to explain to her a little bit about some of the things that I'd done in the military, and some of the places I'd found myself even after I'd gotten out, taking up the better part of an hour. She seemed to understand that I'd left a bit of it out, but seemed to also understand that I'd have been fully able to deal with the twit if he'd been stupid enough to continue.
Then she shivered a little bit, and said "Between remembering that, and how cool it is out there, I'm feeling a little chilly". I told her that if she liked, I'd be glad to get her a blanket to wrap around herself, and she said that a blanket would be too hot, and a moment later, asked if I'd mind if she sat next to me, instead. I told her that I'd made it a point to never object to having skimpily-dressed pretty girls sit next to me, and she gave me a little laugh, saying "Great! But first, I've got to get rid of some of that wine from the restaurant". I told her that I figured she could figure out where the bathroom was, getting me a smile and a nod before she got up and headed that direction.
A couple minutes later, she came back in, and had me twist around a little on the couch, so that she could nestle herself into the crook of my arm next to my shoulder. I had my arm resting on the back of the couch, and when she'd gotten herself situated, she reached up and pulled my arm down around her shoulders, holding my hand in hers. When she was comfortable, she said "You know, it's been*years* sit I was able to just sit and snuggle up next to a man like this – I'd forgotten just how nice it could feel." I thanked her for the compliment, and told her that it felt pretty good for me, too.
We sat there like that for several minutes, both of us comfortable just to have the physical contact and closeness of another human being next to us, before she looked up at me and said "You know, when you first moved in, I thought you were kind of a nerdy bum, spending almost all your time inside your apartment. Then after we talked outside that day, I realized that there was more to you than what I first thought. Then when Robyn got interested in your computer, and started coming over to visit you, I worried that you might be some kind of pervert or something and try to molest her. When I got back from my trip, I was worried that you had somehow gotten her into bed with you. It was only when I came over to apologize to you and we had a chance to talk a little more that I realized just how much there was to you; and when you started helping me and Robyn out with our problems, it only made me understand just how thoughtful and smart you are. Tonight, when we went to the restaurant, I started to see how considerate and polite you are, but I still thought you were a little wimpy. I mean, after the way I acted around you, and showing myself off to you – yes, I did it on purpose! – you still didn't try to grope me or hit on me or anything else; I even wondered if you were gay, until I saw the way you looked at me in this outfit! But after the way you handled that creep outside, and hearing about what you've done, I don't think that you're the slightest bit wimpy! I just don't understand how a man can be both as calm and patient as you are, and have the guts to stand up to a punk like that". I laughingly told her that I was glad to hear that *somebody* had a good opinion of me, and she jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow, saying "I'm serious, dammit!". I got serious too, then, and asked her why she thought that a man couldn't be both gentle and masculine at the same time. She thought about it for a bit, and finally said "I suppose that there really isn't any reason why he couldn't – it's just that I've never really seen it before, and don't quite understand it". I told her that I thought that there really wasn't any contradiction to it at all – only perhaps that it might be a little unusual, which she answered with an "and how!". I continued by saying that after my experiences, I really didn't figure that there was anything I needed to fear physically, and the conquering of that fear had given me a certain sense of tranquility that made it easier to deal with other concerns. I told her that I wasn't immune to pain or disease, that I still suffered the same kinds of maladies that affected everyone else, that I still felt love and anger and all the rest – it was just that my experience had taught me how to deal with those things in a way that worked for*me*.