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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The problem with living out in the middle of nowhere. Although it's a beautiful lake nowhere it's not close enough to real stores. Toilet paper, for example, is a bitch to get your hands on in bulk. You have to go to a Walmart for toilet paper but Walmart is a rip-off. Sometimes the toilet paper is a special brand made for Walmart stores that aren't of the same quality. The key is Costco but Costco isn't near us. If I wanted a beautiful view of Folsom Lake. I'm set, but if I want a pallet of toilet paper? Totally fucked. Living that personal assistant lifestyle and fixing things for Noah ain't always easy.
The young black woman with purple lipstick takes the case of toothpaste and scans it. She scans the rest of my groceries.
Rice, two fifty-pound bags.
Beep, Beep.
A case of dry beans.
Beep.
Dry Pasta.
Beep.
Soap, light bulbs, and office supplies.
Beep, Beep, Beep.
I hand the cashier Noah's business credit card. The Costco guy outside is nice enough to put everything in the back of his truck for me. The last thing loaded is the pallet of toilet paper. I finish off my cup of DIY coffee and remember that I should have bought a coffee machine. Shit.
Ring.
The phone goes off as I take the last dregs of my god-awful java. My coffee cup slides from my hand. It's a precarious juggle between my coffee cup and finding the dang phone. Frantic hand motions in hot pants pat-down, got it. I snatch the phone and answer it.
"Hello?"
"I dropped them off."
"What?" What, who drop them where?
"I drop the kids off," said Theo.
"What the fuck Theo, it's 2 p.m. The drop-off time is 3 p.m.!"
"---" Click. What the fuck he hung up the phone.
The kid's shit.
I push the cart out of the way and back out. Noah's pickup races down the lonely back roads. I turn down a side street and to the back roads.
Shit.
Panic rises deep inside my stomach. The phone I wanted to give the kids Theo thought was a bad idea at their age. The panic and annoyances nibble at me. I call the house and the machine picks up.
"Hi, this is the Jude house, Noah and Zoey aren't here. Leave a message at the beep," Zoey says cheerfully. I throw my cell into the seat next to me. Shit. That feeling of helplessness gnaws deep in my gut. It tears bits and pieces of me mile by mile in the truck.
I race into the driveway towards the house. The pickup door flies open and I move for the front door. My hands wrap around and I damn near rip it off the hinges to get it open faster.
"Sim, Ade!" No answer.
Panic's cold fist slaps against my gut, then it rips. I ran outside the house. My eyes scan the grounds and then I hear a...
Tap, Tap, Tap.
I follow the noise like a trail of breadcrumbs. Noah's almost finished boat looms over me. That woodsy oil scent mix with ocean salts as always hangs around everything he does. Up, my eyes catch my little girl and boy sitting next to each other. A look of concentration is on both their tiny faces. They take turns hammering a nail into aboard. Noah stands over them in an undershirt ready to swoop in if they mess it up. A smile spreads across my face as the heaviness of worry slips away.
My son spots me. He stands up and waves at me. He's missing his cape and instead has on a huge green flannel shirt two times his size on his back. Ade is more of a flannel shirt than he is a boy. I climb up the boat ladder.
"Ade, where's your cape baby?" I question him with concern in every word.
He doesn't answer me. Ade's eyes shift away from mine. The bright smile on his face slides away. He hammers the line of nails in. Well, that isn't good. I reach out and put my hand on top of his head while he hammers away.
"Ah, thanks for finding them, Noah." I turn to Noah, "We will get out of your way."
"No Mom, Mr. Noah said, we can help with the boat. We're not in the way." Little Man states in a truckload of cute earnestness.
What he talks? That's shocking, he's never done that for me.
"He said we can help," Sim chimes in.
"What happened to his cape," I mouth at my daughter.
"Dad took it," we shared a joint eye roll that we probably shouldn't be sharing.
"Oh." I pull together my bits of rage and tamp it all down. The cape was a long argument between us. He would grow out of it if Theo would just give it time. That or he would just be a cape person. It could be worse. For Theo that cape meant one hundred and one things, I didn't fully understand. The cape meant when he took our kids to company picnics, his kid was different. Besides the fact that his son was one of the few black boys at the company picnic, we were already different. It didn't matter. The cape made Little Man madly happy: leave it alone, was always my comeback.
Taking his cape was ugly in a way I can't put into words. It's an ugliness if I'm honest with myself that's always been there. Jo-Lee was dead right, it's the show off his perfect family, not the family he got. We have a long talk coming.
"Noah if you don't mind them here?"
Noah peers into my eyes. His ocean-blue gaze is mysterious but a little caring. I wonder what all these looks mean. What is going on in his head? If we are stepping over this invisible barrier, he wants no one to cross or if this is the beginning. Building blocks into a nice friendship. And it's at that moment that the ocean blue stops being an endless mystery. Instead, his deep blue eyes are a cooling sea for just a second. I see you, Noah Jude.
He nods his long beachy locks yes then goes back to work on the boat. I watch them nail the wood enthusiastically. We sit on that boat and work together until the sun goes down. A late evening breeze sweeps in off Folsom lake. Long evening shadows tease at the pretty wood boat. The boat has that new car smell combined with freshly oiled wood. They don't build them this way anymore. Well, they really never built sailing boats this way in the first place. A little modern if you check certain places, but a fully functional old-style sailing boat from far away. It's a beautiful creation, and the art dealer Noah works with is salivating at the chance to sell and show.
I didn't know a wooden boat could be a work of art.
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... But this one is simply beautiful.
A/n
I hope you're enjoying this. I really have no idea since I read this too many times. Anyway, keep going!!!!!!!! :)
