Frenchie Toasted
My dad had mentioned Frenchie to me before.
He had hired her on occasion to clean his house. Every once in a while, I would see some cheesey addition to the house and more often than not, it was a gift from Frenchie.
Watching her mingle with my dad's friends, it is obvious that they know who she is.
I didn't know where they met and I didn't know why he called her Frenchie.
Until I heard her accent.
I approached her and asked, "Are you Frenchie?"
She looked at me for a moment, maybe stunned that I had approached her. And then she started speaking with an amazingly think French accent.
'Yes. I am Frenchie. It is so nice to meet you VW."
She is wearing too much perfume. Like a stripper would (or so I've been told).
"It's nice to meet you too, Frenchie. My dad spoke of you often."
Frenchie quickly makes that cross sign that Sammy Sosa makes every time he goes to bat.
"You father, God rest his soul, was such a nice man, VW. He was such a nice, caring man. I loved him so much."
One word stretches through my mind - aaaaaawwwwwwwwwwkkkkkkkkkkkwaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrddddddd.
I don't think they were an item but I've started to learn that I can't leap to any conclusions about my dad and his relationships.
"VW, nobody will tell me. How did your father die?"
It wasn't like it was a big secret. It looks like he had a heart attack. I didn't have the death certificate yet and the LA County coroner doesn't due full autopsy if it isn't a homicide. So I just told her that I thought it was a heart attack.
"He had such a big heart, VW. He was so good to me. I will miss him so."
Did my dad really date Frenchie? What was going on here? I've got the Wood Lady telling me one thing and Frenchie is talking like there was something more there than what I knew about.
I thank Frenchie for coming today and excuse myself to grab some pie.
"When you find out how he died, could you please tell me?"
I tell her I will knowing full well that I will never see her again or talk to her again.
I don't think I want to know the answer of the Frenchie riddle.
VW
He had hired her on occasion to clean his house. Every once in a while, I would see some cheesey addition to the house and more often than not, it was a gift from Frenchie.
Watching her mingle with my dad's friends, it is obvious that they know who she is.
I didn't know where they met and I didn't know why he called her Frenchie.
Until I heard her accent.
I approached her and asked, "Are you Frenchie?"
She looked at me for a moment, maybe stunned that I had approached her. And then she started speaking with an amazingly think French accent.
'Yes. I am Frenchie. It is so nice to meet you VW."
She is wearing too much perfume. Like a stripper would (or so I've been told).
"It's nice to meet you too, Frenchie. My dad spoke of you often."
Frenchie quickly makes that cross sign that Sammy Sosa makes every time he goes to bat.
"You father, God rest his soul, was such a nice man, VW. He was such a nice, caring man. I loved him so much."
One word stretches through my mind - aaaaaawwwwwwwwwwkkkkkkkkkkkwaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrddddddd.
I don't think they were an item but I've started to learn that I can't leap to any conclusions about my dad and his relationships.
"VW, nobody will tell me. How did your father die?"
It wasn't like it was a big secret. It looks like he had a heart attack. I didn't have the death certificate yet and the LA County coroner doesn't due full autopsy if it isn't a homicide. So I just told her that I thought it was a heart attack.
"He had such a big heart, VW. He was so good to me. I will miss him so."
Did my dad really date Frenchie? What was going on here? I've got the Wood Lady telling me one thing and Frenchie is talking like there was something more there than what I knew about.
I thank Frenchie for coming today and excuse myself to grab some pie.
"When you find out how he died, could you please tell me?"
I tell her I will knowing full well that I will never see her again or talk to her again.
I don't think I want to know the answer of the Frenchie riddle.
VW
posted by JVW at 9:16 PM
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