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...
"Yep, he's very late with the kids." I passed her the five dollars for winning the bet on top of her normal babysitting fee. Bonabell pockets the five smooth as her momma's butter cookies. A part of me was trying to channel Carly's optimism. It cost me five bucks, serves me right. Noah stands at the door to the Crocker Pressroom. He looks so out of place, towering over the reporters entering. Zoey works the reports like a pro. All that time doing The Tour reality tv show has come in handy. She has each reporter laughing before they enter the Crocker press room. Noah looks over at me like a hostage ready to make his hostage tape. I laugh at him and he smiles back at me in that Noah way he does. I find myself categorizing his smile language. It's almost like discovering a hidden treasure at sea. Each smile is a little different, but this one is a new funny one. His smile is all ocean blue and a little vulnerable. It's full of mystery, like staring out into the ocean while standing on the edge of a treeline cliff. Bonabell peers at Noah, and then at me. She smiles as recklessly as her mother. I realize why I missed this girl so damn much when she's gone.
Bonabell spent three months with her paternal grandparents every year. She came back different this year. Not in a hugely noticeable way, but in withdrawn moments. Jo-Lee has shared custody with them for years, but I don't think the south agrees with Bonabell. She leans into me, giving me a side hug. The smile that was so easygoing and young isn't there. It's some big change that happened in a few months, and I keep waiting for that young woman to return. She hasn't though. But this young woman who smiles a lot less has returned in her place. I still love her dearly. We are family, maybe not by blood, and that's the family we made. But she's no less family to me. My mother took care of her while Jo-Lee worked when she first came to California years ago. Diola Tyson loves without reserve because that's the way my mother is. I hope that I'm taking after her.
Bonabell pushes her shoulder into mine in a familial bump. A part of me just wants to know what is going on in that head of hers. Is it a teenage high school issue or something bigger?
"Bonabell, if there's anything you need to tell me that you can't tell your mom feel free to, ok?"
"Ok," she replies a little quickly, like she's dismissing it. Not meanly dismissing it, but that way of teenagers when they think they are on an island. And no one in the world has ever felt the way they felt.
"Bell," I insisted. The baby's name was a low blow on my part. Bonabell hesitates, her features so reminiscent of her funny mother but without her mother's ready smile.
"MOMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, Mr. Noahhhhh!!!!!!" A screaming Little Man waves at me and runs right past me to Noah. His cape is in perfect Lando wave. The problem though is his clothes don't match the cape. Lando likes to be in full style and the colors don't match the cape. I bet it took a small army to get him into the dress, short pants, collared shirt, and loafers. He looks like a little kid going to a business meeting, then my kid on the weekend.
