by Brittany Ackerman
Noah lived in Miami on the 27th floor of a high rise.
We were introduced through a friend who thought we might be a good match since we were both single and it was summer.
He wrote for TV, so I could only see him on the weekends.
I’d pack a tote with a few changes of clothes and my little travel bottles of shampoo and conditioner.
One time I forgot my toothbrush and Noah told me to use my finger, that it worked just the same as bristles.
I was thinking about applying for grad school because I wanted to be a writer.
I had a blog where I wrote about boys and sadness, a place to empty my pain.
The pain was mostly due to a relationship that had ended very badly.
It felt sort of rebellious going to see Noah because my ex lived in Sunrise.
I passed his exit on the way to Miami and that felt really nice.
Noah took me to a bar that also had arcade games and air hockey.
Noah took me to a Heat game.
Noah took me to his favorite Italian restaurant where the portions were so big I had to take most of my ravioli home, back to his place.
I liked when Noah drove me around in his BMW.
I liked looking out the window at a city I’d never truly know.
I liked Noah because we’d have sex and watch Comedy Central and fall asleep to the busy blue city outside.
One time we made a pit stop at Kinkos so Noah could print out a script.
I wrote a poem on a piece of computer paper and left it at the store.
Noah didn’t understand my writing.
The only thing in his refrigerator was a 32oz bottle of blue Gatorade.
One time he used blueberry flavored lube and it made my mouth tingle and burn.
He let me have the Gatorade because he didn’t have any water.
I knew moments like that are when you find out what someone is really all about.
I remember Noah standing there naked in the kitchen while I chugged the blue drink that tasted like fruit punch and inside I panicked because I didn’t know how we could explain this to anyone at an urgent care if the pain didn’t go away.
I remember the city outside the window and how I envied everyone else.
The pain went away and we watched TV for hours until we fell asleep.
We laughed about it later.
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Brittany Ackerman is the author of the essay collection The Perpetual Motion Machine and the novel The Brittanys. She has a forthcoming novel with CLASH Books called The Style of Your Life. Her Substack is taking the stairs.
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