I sat in the car hoping the figure I saw was him. By now I was really getting
concerned. Several minutes passed; I forget how long I sat there and
waited. To keep myself occupied, I began to think about our first encounter. I was not exactly
what he had expected -- I was a little older than most of his FSMs, and possessed a habit of
speaking my mind he found most endearing. I'll never forget his
expression as I walked across the square towards the Palace of Justice.
I was sashaying in a colorful dress that didn't exactly hide my curves,
my dark wavy hair tied with a kente scarf, letting my hips sway to an old
rhythm-n-blues tune playing in my head which was held high and proud. I
remembered sitting just within eyeshot of the colonnade showing my big
legs and Claude Frollo said he felt a blast of tropical heat
hitting him in the face that very moment I raised my big brown eyes
to the tall slender man standing on the balcony. All those young Paris
bucks tried to make small talk with this proud American princess. I
answered one such little man, playfully mind you, and in my best old-Negro dialect, "Ah belongs
to no man, 'cept Mins'ter Frollo." (Of course, he and I weren't an item as of yet)
Claude was so sweet, so attentive that summer.
We read poetry to each other, I cooked some good old soul food, taught
him to like old Motown, told him stories and jokes that made him laugh.
He called me his "sweet brown sugared lady" and said he would always look
forward to my sweet, wild-honey kisses. I started to cry at that memory,
but fought back tears just in time to hear a pounding on the rear
window. I got out of the car, walked around towards the trunk, and
breathed a sigh of relief.
"Claude!" I embraced him, kissed his cold
still-inviting mouth. "I got here as fast as I could."
me with relief and gratitude, "I thought you'd never come. Oh, my
dear Nisha....my love...I went...swim...blasted soldier...couldn't get to...my
clothes...took my horse...I'm so
This was not the Claude Frollo I was used to
This man, shivering-cold, tears streaming down his face, his
otherwise neat gray hair all windblown, allowed himself to show a little
vulnerability, something he never displays in public. He told me of the
late afternoon swim, how some soldier he had discharged earlier today
had lifted his clothes and stolen Snowball, how he was chased through the streets by adoring FSMs.
I embraced him again.
"I had a feeling something like this would happen. It's all right,
honey. I understand."
He held me tightly and kissed me tenderly.
had managed to escape with only this." He revealed a sterling silver
pager, studded with amethysts. "I was desperate, Nisha. You were the only one I
could turn to."
I opened the back door, reached inside, handed him
the pile of clothes, then waited as Claude sat in the backseat, dressing
hurriedly. "We don't have much time", I said, "anyone could
come along and..."
am aware of that", he replied with a haughty edge to his voice. It was
a good sign. He'd quickly regained his usual commanding demeanor.
On to Part Three...
Copyright©Sept 1997 by FrolloFreak
Email @ MSNTV