A broken marriage.
A new job.
She works as a Personal Assistant on the ForNoah Youtube channel.
Noah is on the autistic spectrum and she fixes things for him.
He's a shipwright and creates beautiful works of art.
She's a woman starting over who meet...
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"Meet you at the Crocker." I say to Noah over the phone. My tummy buzzes with the high of our trip coming. I packed and picked out the way I wanted to look. My plan and my friend's plan was to look smoking hot. It was a solid step one in the get some happy sex plan.
Although I could have met Noah at my place it was something I didn't want. Childish, but a part of me is a little embarrassed about the size of my apartment. Having him inside my place that I worked so hard to get. Yeah, I'm proud of being on my feet but the place is tiny and his paintings he made with the kids are all over the wall. A place of pride under the kid's bed in my single room apartment is barely a kitchen with a small tiny bathroom.
Mine though.
The thought reinforces my confidence about my place again. I should be proud of myself not ashamed but I couldn't. It wasn't simply about the size of the place being so small or anything else. It's about how exposed I'd be if he saw how much he meant to me while we weren't together. I can't even put it into words. I was so locked into him so down bad, with the realization that it was just Noah. Only ever going to be Noah even if it could maybe not be Noah in the end.
I sighed, breathing out the world and shooting my cousin Eve a message to come pick me up. She agreed to drop me off at the Crocker museum. She shot be back the eggplant emoticon again proving her and Jo-Lee are always team cum. They were hyping me up for this hair cutting trip. Who would have thought I'd be able to take a whole damn boating trip just to cut hair. Talk about the view I'm going to get sailing along the California Coastline again. It was almost like old times but different. Different maybe a little bit but the same too. I remember the first time I was alone with Noah on that boat. The thought that I loved him hit me so hard. Noah, the sea god Neptune himself was my everything beloved himself.
Rushing down the stairs to meet Eve waiting for me in her car. We talked along the way about nothing too bad. My suitcase is not even in the trunk but in the back seat bouncing around. I wanted to grab it and race to the Sailing boat that bad. As fast as I could because we were finally in a good place. I'd have even taken a simple friendship but friendly fuck buddies is even better. My cautious smile flitter at the corner of my lip so fragile but hopeful.
Eve pulled into the Crocker museum parking lot, its backdrop of Noah's huge sailing boat. The paintings are still there until the end of the month. The buyer gives a chance for the public to fully view it until the end of June. I wanted to take the kids to see Noah's art installation one more time before it went to the buyer. But with their birthday around the corner combined with the Fourth of July it's going to be hard. Theo plans on holding the party this year instead of me doing it again. The trade off of time should be interesting. A joint custody that for the most part has been working out.
I tried somewhat in vain to distract myself with a bevy of fast thoughts on the way to the art museum. As we turned the corner onto the street, I saw it. The sun is ready to set and the lights from the art display are already on. A sailing boat that almost burst from the sea with the panels painted behind it. The lights of the waves were almost real and again reminded of the night Noah made multi panel paintings. Our stormy night together and the first time we had sex. A complete first for Noah who unbeknownst to me was a nearly thirty-year-old virgin. Staring out from my cousin's car at the boat and the paintings again I was so caught. It was an endless loop where we went wrong but also where we went so right. The rightness was there and although Noah wasn't a huge talker, his body spoke to me. In the way he held me touched me even when he was angry.
