Pieces of You

The day where I was forced to say goodbye to Frenchie came and went; and even though it ripped my heart in two to do it, I have to admit that enjoyed every last minute of it...


Friday morning I received one of my last text from Frenchie. He was scheduled to leave early Saturday morning. It would be our last day together.


He messaged me, "Can you meet me in downtown in 1 hour and bring your bikini?"


For you? Anything Mr Man.


"My bathing suit?" I ask, confused.


"Yes Cherie'," he says.


"Okay, I can do that," I answer. "Where am I meeting you?"


"At my friends loft. I v'will be v'waiting for you on zi roof," he text.


I head downtown an hour later, my suit and cover up stuffed securely into my hand bag.


I punch in the code for the secured building and make my way up to the roof. I had long since received the code for the door. Why wouldn't I have it? Frenchie was my boyfriend afterall...


As I climbed the familiar stairs to the roof, I allowed my mind to wander to the first night I had been up here. I open the rooftop door, half expecting to walk into starry skyed darkness. Instead I step into the bright sunlight and begin my search for Frenchie. I find him sitting at a table next to the jacuzzi, wearing a pair of swim trunks, dark sunglasses and a hipster Fedora.


"Hello baby," he says, standing to give me a kiss.


"Aren't you the lucky one," I say to him, taking a seat at the table. "Leave it to tourist luck to get such a beautiful day like today in the middle of December."



"Are you 'Ungry," he asks, gesturing towards the other half of the sandwich he was eating.



"No I'm fine, I ate a little something before I got here," I tell him.


We both pause for a moment and just smile at each other. We do that alot. Stare at each other and smile. There are no uncomfortable silences between Frenchie and I. Ever.



We laughed and shot the shit for a bit while Frenchie finished his sandwich.  It was hard to believe that in just a few short hours, he would be gone. We were both still so at ease. As if there would still be a tomorrow for us.


Frenchie finishes up and holds his hand out to me saying, "Come. I have zomething for you."


I take his hand and allow him to lead me back into the building and down to the loft. He walks over to the kitchen table and appears to be adjusting something in a box. He finally turns around holding a beautiful white Amaryllis flower, set into a small box. It has several bulbs not quite bloomed, but one of the large star like flowers was fully opened and stunning.


Frenchie is grinning sheepishly as he points to the card pushed into the dirt of the plant. I take it in my hands to read it.


"Cherie Carrie, Thank you so much for being my American Girlfriend for a week, xx Frenchie."



I laugh and give Frenchie a quick kiss and a hug. I hide my face in his shoulder for a moment, collecting my bearings. The gift was sweet. My eyes had teared a bit. I didn't want him to see. I wanted this day to stay positive. I refused to give into tears.


"Thank you so much Frenchie, really," I say to him, finally pulling a way. "It's beautiful. I love it."


"Z'he lady said that it can live a long time," he says to me. "She give me instructions for you. I thought it was the most pretty. I v'wanted something that v'would last, so that you v'would have z'omthing to look at and think of me."


I feel the familiar sting in my eyes again.


I will them away, saying, "It's perfect. I've never been the type to like flowers. I mean flowers like roses and things like that, you know? It always seemed wrong to pick the flowers off the plant like that. This is so much better. It's still alive. I can plant it and keep it going. I love it."


Frenchie smiles again, obviously pleased with himself, "I'm so happy you like it. I have never given a gift like this before. I don't give flowers before. I'm happy."


I give him another quick kiss and place the flower back down on the table.


"Would you like to go in the jacuzzi now?" he asks.


"Sure," I answer. "I just need to change."


I head into the bathroom to change into my suit. I look at myself in the mirror, making sure that no trace of my momentary choke up is noticeable. Satisfied with what I see, I take a deep breath and head back to the roof with Frenchie.


He slips into the jacuzzi first as I pull my cover up off.


"Wow," I hear Frenchie say under his breath.


I had stressed over which of my many bathing suits to wear for my first and last water adventure with Frenchie. I had finally settled on a zebra striped Monokini. The cutouts, low back, ringed bottom of the suit compliment my body perfectly. My hips, large ass and small waist all featured individually around the overpriced suit. I had apparently chosen correctly. Frenchie couldn't take his eyes off me as I entered the hot water.


He pulls me to him the moment I hit the underwater bench. We begin to kiss passionately, his hands searching under the water for me frantically.


Then he stops, turning away from me and moving to the other end of the jacuzzi.


"What's wrong," I ask concerned.


"I am getting too excited," he answers, not looking at me.


"What's wrong with that," I ask, laughing.


"I decided it v'would be best if v'we don't have sex again," he says to me. "Yes, that v'would be better."


"Why, I don't understand," I ask him confused.


"I think it v'would be too hard for us," he says seriously. "It v'would make it harder for me, and you. It iz best v'we don't."


Say's who?


"Okay," I say instead. "If that's what you want."


I was confused. I wasn't sure who he was trying to protect. Himself or me? I was fine. I had no problem making love to my week long boyfriend. I mean he was leaving, why wouldn't we be together one last time? Was he afraid I would freak out later? I mean I already knew he was leaving, it's not like I would feel used or anything. Geez, why do men always have to over complicate the uncomplicated!


Frenchie steps out of the jacuzzi and sits on the bench nearby. I swim over to my cover up and pull my cell phone out of the pocket, snapping a few pics of Frenchie lounging in the sun. Satisfied, I place my phone safely away and dip back into the water, an idea forming mischievously in my head.


I turn my back to Frenchie and lean my body against the opposite side of the pool. I use my arms to prop my body up above the water, kicking my legs back lazily. To the casual observer it would appear that I was merely leaning over to get a better view of the city. In reality, I was fully aware of the view I was giving to Frenchie. I was leaning forward just enough so that the supple part of my hips and ass were exposed just above the bubbling water. It didn't take long for my arched back trick to do it's job.


Within seconds I hear Frenchie's body splash back into the water.  His hands found my hips under the water and pulled me towards him. He pressed my back to his chest, squeezing me tight and kissing my neck. He finally turns me around and caresses my ass while kissing my lips. The steam is rising above us, at this point I can't be sure if it's the heaters or us.


No, we didn't have sex. I knew that they placed security cameras on top of buildings like these, and I was positive one of them had to be pointed directly at the jacuzzi. I wasn't looking for sex, I just wanted passion. And passion I got...


We finally dried off and left the roof for the warmth of the loft. I quickly jump into the shower, alone. I may have been able to get Frenchie to waver upstairs, but he wasn't having any of it back in the apartment. I begrudgingly entered the shower alone.


After we both redressed, Frenchie asked if I would mind shopping with him around town for a bit. He still needed to pick up gifts and souvenirs for his friends and family back home.


"If it isn't too much trouble," he says to me apologetically. "It may be very boring."


"It won't be boring for me," I tell him. "I don't care what we do, I just want to be with you."


He smiles and places his arm around me as we head back down to the street towards my car.


We spend the next few hours walking around downtown, shopping. I'm quiet most of the way, lost in thought. The week had been amazing. We had done so much together! It had been a while since I had spent that much time with a man outside of The Kid. It was strange how close I felt to him. I still marveled at my comfort with my French boo. It had only been one week! It had seemed so much longer. The experience had been unreal.


Finally satisfied with his purchases, Frenchie and I decide to find a place to eat. He had seen a lovely restaurant in the center of the city he had been wanting to try all week. We step inside of a large room drenched in white decor with white linen tables spaced through out.


We order two of the house special martini's, mine fruity, his laced in cream; along with a gourmet salad to accompany our thin crust prosciutto and goat cheese pizza. Frenchie orders a few appetizers that I can't pronounce but am more than happy to eat. We settle into our corner booth and begin to talk.


We talk about the week we've had. We talk about our day. But most of all we talk about each other. We talk about what attracted us to the other when we first met. We talk about what made us care as the week wore on. It's funny, I've always had a hard time accepting compliments from people in the past. I have an even harder time accepting love and romance. Not with Frenchie. With him it's different. I never feel the urge to roll my eyes. There was no need to hold my gag reflex in check. I think it's because he doesn't say things to flatter me. He's not trying to get on my good side. He says what he says because to him, they are simple truths.  Truths that need to be said. So he does.


"You have been v'wonderful," he is saying to me. "You are so sexy, and passionate, and honest. You laugh all the time. That's v'what I like most of all v'when v'we met. You laughed v'with me. You smiled. You thank me for the things I do. You make me feel good...about me. You are v'what a women should be. You are The Women."


Frenchie looks at his food during this whole speech lost in thought, searching for the right words. Happy with his analyses, he continues to eat.


I look away towards the wall. How does he do that? How can he just allow the sweetest things to roll off his tongue without even noticing the effects that they have on me? Could he really be that selfless?


I'm starting to loose it! I knew this was coming. I knew he would be gone. I'm not sad that he's leaving, I was prepared for that. I was, touched. Touched that he had ever came. Touched that I was able to enjoy his company, and that he had chose to enjoy mine.


Frenchie looks over, noting my silence.



He grabs my hand and says, "I know I am leaving...but I v'will still be here. I mean v'we v'will maybe send messages and z'things like that but v'we have zomething else. I am leaving a piece of me here...v'with you. And I am taking a piece of you v'with me. Here. Inside."


He takes my hand and presses it against his heart to make sure that I understand.


I shake my head in awe of his sweetness and lean in for a kiss. This guy is fucking unreal!!


We continue our dinner. We don't say much towards the end. We merely sit enjoying our delicious meal, content to merely be in the others presence.


We finally finish up and head out of the restaurant and back onto the busy city street. I look up at the tall buildings surrounding me. There's nothing I love more than standing in the middle of Downtown LA, looking up at the tall buildings, lights glowing out of the many windows, illuminating the sidewalks below.


Frenchie and I walk in silence towards my car. It was getting late. I knew our day was done. Right before we get to the garage entrance, he stops and looks at me.


"This is v'where I need to leave Cherie'," he says to me. "I v'want to v'walk the rest of the way to my friends alone. I v'want to see the city one last time."


I mouth the words, "Okay."


I can't speak. I can hardly breathe.


He pulled me to him and kissed me. He kissed my mouth and my face. He hugged me tighter and pulled my hands to his lips and kissed those as well. There was so much I wanted to say. So much that I felt.


I wanted to tell him what he had done for me. It had been more than enjoying a week with a stranger. He had got me to trust again. He had got me to feel again. He had helped me to realize that I could find love again. I could connect with someone. He had helped to heal my heart. He had healed the bruise left by The Rocker. He had helped me to feel good about...me. I loved me once again, and I was very aware that there was a part of me that also loved him. I loved Frenchie.


I loved him for being the man he was. I loved him for how he treated me. I loved him for enjoying my company and allowing me to enjoy his. My love for him was selfless. I needed nothing from him in return. No promises, no goodbyes. Just a thank you. From me to him.


I looked into his eyes, hoping that he could read all that I felt in them. He looks back at me and smiles. He presses his lips to mine for the last time.


"Goodbye," I say to him.


I squeeze his hand and walk away, without looking back.



I hold my breathe the entire walk to my car. I could see Frenchie, in my minds eye, walking down the city street. His black trench coat pulled tight around him. A grin fixed on his face.


The moment I locked myself safely into my car, I let go. I cried. Hell, I sobbed. My heart was throbbing. It wasn't broken, it was merely full to the point of bursting.


I sobbed the entire drive home. I didn't take the freeway. That would have been too quick. I instead chose the streets. Each stop light allowing me more time to cry out my feelings.


If felt good! It felt good to feel! It's true what they say. The only way to get over a lost love is to find love with someone else. I'm not sure if I'm really ready to love someone. I'm not sure if I'm ready to take the chance and commit. But one thing I did know, I finally was over The Rocker. The pain was gone. I could finally think of him with out feeling the old twitch in my heart.



I may be healed, but I don't quite feel whole. And I'm ok with that. I'm ok with crying, I'm ok with loving, and I'm ok with missing the men that once meant the world to me. I'm ok with it because for the first time in a long time, I'm ok with me.


Thank you Frenchie. Thank you for finding me. Thank you for caring. And thank you for my flower. It's bloomed beautifully since you left. I plan on keeping it alive for a long time. But don't worry, even if it does die?


I still have a piece of you with me.


WCC