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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July
I wiggle down into the bed. On a sailing boat off the coast of California, halfway between sleep and wakefulness.
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The sea was eerie in its quiet. Except for the crack of the sails and burble of the water against the hull. The boat rocks left to right like a lullaby and keeps me on the edge of sleep. Two sets of small hands hang on my life vest in the tiny bed. They cuddle closer with each beat of the sea. He said he wanted to go sailing, and that was the start of an adventure I can't put into words.
He spent years working on the boat, and it was done and time for a test sail. I wasn't prepared for how beautiful the sailing boat would be in the water. The large sails never looked all that impressive sitting next to the workshop. The wind never filled them up, but from the second I saw it from the dock, I realized my mistake. It was larger than what I thought it was going to be. A below-deck cabin cramp, but well laid out. He took us on a little tour of the boat, giving stories of other boating trips he took with his dad, sister, and friends. Teaching Sim and Ade lessons on how to boat.
The kids after we wrangled them into the life vest mistake the whole boat for a McDonald's jungle gym. All the nautical terms run through my mind faster than Noah first explained them and go out just as quickly. Maybe it was that first day and the excitement of the adventure to come, but I can't remember falling asleep.
The sweet smell of heat and fresh coffee beans roasting. I crack open that one eye I'd been fucking with keeping it close. I watch as Noah's gigantic hands place the fresh roast coffee beans into a mortar and pestle for the grind. The stove with the boiling water rocking next to him in time with the water.
A copy of my stupidly large coffee mug sits on the table next to him. He primes the coffee mug and filters with some of the boiling water. Then dumps out the water into the sink. Noah puts the coffee grounds into the filter next as he pours the scalding water over the coffee. The smell blooms in the small cabin, perfuming the nectar of the gods.
Like a zombie rising from the dead, I follow the smell of the freshly roasted cup of coffee. The little table in the cabin waits for me and I sit down at it like a dead husk. He hands me the mug and I take that first sip of black perfection. The coffee had the correct roasting. I preferred roasting, so it has got a smoky flavor without the kickback. The hot cup rolls over my tongue with that spicy floral taste. I sigh with my first hit of the day. My church praise hand pops up like a coffee boner.
