Latest Posts by leyla-tehrani - Page 3

Leyla paused for a moment, trying to figure out how best to describe the trip which had been a rollercoaster. "Um, it's family," she decided to go more vague, "but I did enjoy connecting more to parts of myself and my family's history." She didn't completely regret going, but she did try to reflect too much. "I enjoyed learning them and then practicing them. I wanted to be connected to all parts of myself, language included, besides I loved learning, always have." The work had always made sense before the people. "I hope so," she remarked. She did want to leave an impact on the town with her business, a good one. "I'll add it to my list," she said, all the more wanting to go based on his recommendation. "We're alike in that, sometimes new beginnings are important. Clear the slate and build something you're proud of, which you clearly have."

"Oh!" he nodded his head with understanding when she mentioned that her parents were Iranian, that it had been a trip to visit relatives. "Did you enjoy it, getting to visit family?" Sometimes it was a pleasure visit, sometimes you wanted to pull your hair out. Rafael had family in both Italy and Mexico, loved to visit both, but knew that by the end of it, sometimes he was happy to get back home and not be social. For a little while, anyway. "That's very handy, being able to speak both languages. I know from experience that it's always respected and appreciated when you visit a place and speak to the people in their own language, rather than expecting them to understand yours." Maybe not something entirely possible for everyone, but still worth a shot. "It does, absolutely. You're doing a good thing for the town," he assured her with a sincere smile. "I grew up on the Amalfi Coast, so I'm biased… but highly recommend it," it was, after all, a gorgeous town. Whether living there, or visiting. "A change. I just needed to get out of the city and start over."

"Oh, definitely. I have a row or two on my bookshelf basically dedicated to those," she admitted, which pretty much consisted of non-business books as that's all she'd been soaking up lately. "I'll probably need something like when I finish my current list."

"Some books you buy in good faith and never get around to reading, right?" She knew who she was, with her cheap romance novels and tasty thrillers. That's what she liked. "I would, especially if you want something that doesn't require much thinking."

Leyla agreed, offering a smile, "that's the worst, right? When you just want to enjoy a night out and someone plastered decides that's a good time to bug you." It truly was a beautiful place, and she really couldn't imagine having her business anywhere else now.

"I do," she replied, keeping her answer short and truth close to the chest. As with most of her truths. But the idea of getting to work with kids and offer them positive experiences was very appealing to her. "Physical therapy? I can see how those sort of correlate in some cases. Have you always been an animal lover? I feel like you sort of have to be to volunteer at a place like this."

Livvy nodded her head with understanding as Leyla explained her reasoning for anting to open the business, knowing that it made complete sense. "Sometimes when I want to go out after work, I don't want to worry about being hit on by someone who's been drinking all night, or deciding who wants to be the designated driver," which was always a challenge, one that no one wanted to take on, most of the time. "Besides, you have some really gorgeous views, which makes it all the better." Getting to kick back and relax with friends, have a drink, admire the views? Perfect evening activity.

"Oh!" she brightened instantly at the mention of a similar program, "then you have a basic understanding of how everything works. And how great it can be, too," not that she needed to sell it to anyone; once they spent an afternoon around laughing, smiling kids, they normally caught on to how important it was to them. "I'm a physical therapist, so when the mother of a patient mentioned her daughter getting involved in the program, I asked if I could tag along. Things sort of went from there."

"Ah, you're familiar," she joked, laughing as they both clearly gave away that they were not born there. She nodded, agreeing, "quite." Smiling, she was grateful for the experiences she had, even if not all were full of positive memories. "My parents are Iranian," she explained, "that trip was to see some relatives. I speak both fluent Farsi and French, so both places allowed me to exercise those languages more. But it is, I would go back to Paris if the opportunity arose." Leaning against the arm of her beach chair, she beamed at the compliment to her business idea. "Thank you for saying so," she said quietly, "it seems to fill a need. I was hoping it would, but the feedback has been really positive." It was one thing to know and to hear it from customers, and another to get the praise of someone who had long run his own business. "I've always wanted to go to Italy, but I never got that far. What brought you here?"

"Spoken like a true New Yorker," he replied, trying his best to imitate the accent, as well. Something that he should have had down pat, after spending a few years there, himself. But he had spent much more time in Maine, was almost disappointing to find the accent a reach to achieve. "I can imagine it's a little bit of culture shock, though. Iran and Paris -- and then here to Merrock, you've really seen a lot," he smiled at the thought. "Can't say I've visited Iran, but Paris is gorgeous. One of those cities worth seeing just to say that you did, right?" He leaned back on his arms where he had settled onto his towel and let out a low laugh, "oh yes, we have quite a few bars, but your business is truly unique. And truth be told, I think sometimes people go to bars just because they're traditional meeting, social areas. Offer them something else, and why not take it?" He knew that it would happily be a place for him to visit with clients. "I was born in Italy, actually. Moved to New York City for law school, practiced for a few years before I made the move here."

"It's one of my mocktails," Leyla explained giddily. Talking about her business and the drinks she made always brightened her day, "it's sort of space-themed. I call it our Galaxy Mocktail. It's got a blue curaçao syrup, grenadine, lemonade, and an orange & sweet lime simple syrup. You make it in two layers, so the purple and blue can sort of swirl together like a galaxy, hence the name. We serve it at Mawk Tales if you ever want to stop by and enjoy one while you read a book or something. What did you bring to read?"

"I'm not sure what you're drinking but it looks absolutely delicious!" She'd been eyeballing the drink in the other person's hand for the majority of the time they'd been sitting next to each other. "Did you make it? And if you didn't do you know what's in it because I wouldn't mind remaking a batch of that. It's almost too pretty to drink." @leyla-tehrani

Leyla was happy for the enthusiastic feedback to the idea, hoping the rest of town was as into the idea and it brought increased business in the way she hoped. "That's amazing, congratulations! You look great, how do you feel?"

"That's the goal," she said, warmly. People loving it and wanting to come often was all she wanted to see, to know she could make this successful. "That would be an absolute dream, thank you. The people who've come in so far have seemed to enjoy it, but word of mouth is the true testament to a successful place. The more people who hear about it, the better." As she asked her about what led her to open Mawk Tales, Leyla paused, thinking it over a moment. "I've always wanted to open a business, as far back as I can remember. Life got in the way a bit, but I finally got my Master's a couple years ago and decided it was time. I wanted a place that was safe, comfortable for everyone. Like Cheers. I don't believe you have to drink to have a good time, and some people can't or don't want to. This way, everyone can experience the warmth built with bartenders and friends in bars without the alcohol."

“I’d love to come by and check it out!” Alice said enthusiastically. She loved discovering new things in town, and making new friends. She smiled again. “December,” Alice said happily. “So we are about halfway there, which is really exciting!” She nodded.

“Likewise,” Alice grinned. “I hope so too! I’m going to really love it here,” she told her. “Absolutely. I’m always looking for new stories and new places for townspeople to visit. Shake things up a bit with some variety. I know a lot of folks will appreciate a good mocktail,” she nodded. “Thank you,” She said as she took a sip of her drink, pleasantly surprised at how refreshing it tasted. “This is quite tasty. What led you to open up a place like this?”

Sure, if you do my interviews when I'm ready to hire again. I hate those! I don't know how I ever manage to do anything else, it seems endless sometimes, right? One bonus to a non-alcoholic bar, I got to skip that, which I've heard is a bitch. I would love that, actually, thanks.

Will you do my math then? It’s always like there is something I need to do, or something I am missing. Like I’m never done with the paperwork. The liquor license was what took the longest, but thankfully I don’t need to worry about that part for a while. It takes a little off of your workload, which I am grateful for. I can give you some numbers if you’d like.

She liked talking to customers, despite the wall she put up to keep people from getting too close, she liked feeling like she maybe made someone's day a bit brighter. There was something quaint about the idea of a candy shop in a small town, reminded her of old-timey movies. "I'll trust you completely then," she teased. "Oh, of course, they'll be so happy to hear someone's dared to take the job." Laughing a little, she said, "so you'll have your angel wings and then run to the other shoulder and throw your horns on?"

She had grown liking working at Cassidy’s. She had taken the job because it was available when she came back to Merrock, and also because she needed money after spending several weeks across South America. But truth be told, she didn’t expect to enjoy it. Now it was making her happy. Tasting candy before anyone else was fun, and as busy as the shop could be, serving kids and teenagers was refreshing – they always had a lot of stories to tell, most of the time without even realizing that it was embarrassing for the adults being with them. “I’ll be your best guide,” she promised. “I’m so happy the last one retired. Tell them I say hello, and that I promise to do a good job.” She chuckled. “I can be both, though.”

"Quality control," she quipped back. This was the sort of thing she had wanted in the bar, a place could relax and be themselves. A place for good conversation and memories. "Oh, what sort of things do you write?"

"Well, part of the fun of running a business is getting to sample the goods, right?" Che teased, good naturedly. He appreciated the ambiance of the bar that Leyla had set up and could see himself doing work there now and then. "I work for a bank, but I'm also a writer. I'm trying to get more into doing the writing thing as an actual way to make money and such."

She perked up a bit when he seemed interested in the idea she was proposing. "Just sort of chill, enjoy your drinks with friends or partners while listening to music. Something they don't have to shout over to have a conversation. What kind of music is popular around here?"

Leyla had Alec's interest, pitching him a gig opportunity at the bar. "Depending on what you're looking for.. I can do acoustic though, with the band or solo. Do you have a specific vibe in mind? You can turn most genres acoustic."

"Completely understand," Leyla said with a hint of a laugh, "I've got a couple of those myself." She kept telling herself she'd read something that wasn't business or professional development related, and yet, her bag did not contain any such other genre. "I'll still give you exciting," she offered. "Would you recommend it?"

"Oh, I would put it on my tbr list and then swear I'm going to read it for months and months and then not read it, but thank you for the offer." Aleja was too old to not be self aware about her own habits. "They're fairly spicy, but nothing compared to what's popular these days."

"I'm at a good stopping point anyway," Leyla offered, but her smile was so sweet it would have felt like kicking a puppy to not meet her at least halfway in her desire to be friends. "Because it's more fun to enjoy the sweaty, sculpted views than to get hit in the face with a ball?" She answered the rhetorical question with a bit of a laugh. Maybe it was the warmth of the sun or the zen of the ocean waves, book reading, and mocktail combination or maybe Aisha's jovial nature was a bit infectious, but Leyla was not exactly miserable. "No, but let's go anyway," she said, readying herself to chase this thing into the water when she inevitably missed.

"Really?" her expression brightened when Leyla had finally relented to hang out with her, and she shook her head. "I definitely won't laugh, considering I'm probably just as bad as you are at it. Why do you think I'm not playing in the Volleyball game?" she was as uncoordinated as it got, but tossing a frisbee wouldn't be as pressuring as the competitive nature of the upcoming game. She dug in her beach bag for her frisbee, trying to find it before she changed her mind, and got it out, putting her bag on the ground near Leyla's chair. "Ready?" she gave a grin.

"Well, I was born in Canada, but spent a lot of years down in New York. Made some of my best and worst decisions there as one does. Spent a summer in Iran and a year in Paris. So this is very very new. I'm used to busy and 'hey watch where you're going'" She mimicked the last part in her best attempt at a New York accent. "It's an amazing location for those exact reasons. I had worried a bit about the bars in the area, but when you're close to the coast, something refreshing can compete a bit with something that will ultimately be dehydrating." She nodded, "good. It's a standing offer whenever you want it. Have you ever gone anywhere or are you a lifelong Merrock..ian? Merrockite?"

"Where have you lived before?" Rafael asked, genuinely curious. It wasn't as though he expected everyone he talked with to have lived in one tiny town only to come to another, but he found it interesting to hear about how they came to be in Merrock, none the less. How different it was from where they called home. "I was going to say, if you're set up on the coast, you're set up well, because you can't go wrong with the views. And I can imagine when people just want the chance to kick back, relax, have a drink, it's great for that." When she offered a drink on her, he grinned, "I might just have to take you up on that."

Most people were reading fiction or memoirs, and she was reading like she was still in school. It's what she liked though, working made sense more than anything else did. "I did," she said proudly, "it's called Mawk Tales. The only bar you can feel safe to bring your kids too, but we do have smoothies and italian sodas if you don't want her having something called a mocktail." Finding the yellow swimsuit, she smiled warmly, "she looks like she's having a blast. Is she pretending you're not here or are you still cool?"

Wes lifted a brow in curiosity as Leyla explained the contents of the book she had been reading. It sounded kind of interesting, it definitely made sense. "You opened up the new mocktail place out this way, right?" He may not have had the chance to have checked it out yet, but he had certainly heard good things. He chuckled at the question of whether one of the tweens out on the shoreline was his. "Yeah, the one in the yellow swimsuit is mine," he laughed, "Arabella."

Squeezing some into her hand, Leyla tried to warm it just a little in his hands before massaging it into the other woman's back. She was sort of getting this small town hospitality, but she was a little worried about how it would affect her plans to let no one under the surface again ever. "Yes, I feel like I always make a mess of one hand and not the other," she agreed. Smiling, she replied, "that's the best kind of weekend. Mine has been largely relaxing as well. Leyla, pleasure's all mine. Are you going to participate in all the activities or are you going to see how long people will let you sit here?"

A sense of relief rushed through Libby as the other agreed to help her. "Thank you!" she spoke, handing her the bottle before turning around so the other could access the area she needed to cover. Kindness from others, especially strangers, was one of the reasons why Libby preferred living in a small town. In Libby's experience, people were generally more generous when it came to small town life. She could remember countless times that she would be flipped off or cursed out back in Boston for so much as looking at someone the wrong way. "Right?! It's kind of like when you're trying to paint your nails. It's better to have some help or an extra pair of hands." Libby replied, before nodding her head. "I am! It's been fairly relaxing. How about you? I'm Libby, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"A lot of competitive spirit," she laughed. She hadn't been here very long, but that was clear. "Me too, my sport was running," she said, before glancing over at where some kids were before looking back, "which one's yours?"

Lara gave her a smile. “Yes! Hope that everyone just has a lot of fun. I know this town has a lot of team spirit,” she said, trying to give extra context to what she meant. “I played in school… for gym class. My daughter is more athletic,” she added.

Vitus hadn't built the walls, those were under construction long before him, but he'd been the one to slide under as it sealed shut. Like an action hero. Then, his betrayal had simply melded it in place. Opening up would mean pain, and no amount of therapy had successfully opened the cage that protected her heart, her very brittle, fragile heart.

She hadn't meant to break him--or maybe she had. But she had meant every word. Sleepless nights spent at his side pressing all the broken pieces back together, solid when he shook, warm when he was too exhausted to fall easily into dreams, a breath when he couldn't find air. There was never anywhere else she wanted to be. The irony of the Lighthouse in view wasn't lost on her. She had tried to be a light in the storm, a guide back home. Even when it got complicated, it was easy. And it wasn't enough.

She wanted answers. Answers he couldn't offer, ones she wasn't even sure would make her feel better. "Deep breaths," she whispered, cursing herself for showing him any mercy. She had sworn to herself she wouldn't if they were ever to cross paths again, but they were the same broken. "You need to find out why," she said, "the people you'll keep hurting until you do, they deserve that."

His promise that he did love her went unacknowledged because she did know he had, but it hadn't been real. Real love, if it existed, did not do what he did. She simply chose to no longer believe. Part of her would have given him her hand, let him find comfort in it. In her. But she couldn't, she had to protect herself first. No one else was going to.

"Please stop saying sorry," she breathed out, a single stray tear sliding down her cheek unchecked, "you had reason to worry, and I know I have punished you enough. But I don't want your apology. You broke my heart, you broke my trust, you made my nightmare a reality. Someone newer, shinier, thinner, prettier, more exciting, whatever it was. I know you said it wasn't me, and I know that, but you can see how I'll struggle with that anyway, right? I asked you for faithfulness, a lot of other people make different arrangements. You could have just told me you didn't want to do that anymore." She was circling back to the question that screamed in echos within her mind. Why, why, why. And there was no why. With an exhale, she let it go out with the waves retreating back into the ocean. At least for now. "Deep breaths, Vitus, take deep breaths."

Vitus had hoped for something softer, with her, after all these years. Time had a way of doing that—taking the bite out of memories, until the once-visceral pain turned phantom, like a long-gone limb. But Leyla's eyes didn't melt into her core like his own did. Her voice didn't compress and fold itself over, bowing under the weight of him. No, Leyla remained as hardened and sharp as the day he lost her.

Out on the beach in broad daylight, the last event of summer buzzing around him, Vitus was trying his best not to cry. But then she said that—You were easy to love. Why wasn't that enough?—and the thing in his chest quit howling long enough to crumble. It punched a shuddering breath out of his lungs. Vitus wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stabilize, as the first tears finally tipped over and fell down his face.

He had never thought himself easy to love, but especially not when he was in his twenties, and especially not when they met. Leyla had held him on the bathroom floor while his hands shook, on the tail end of a coke comedown. She'd seen him crawl into bed at four in the morning, exhausted and empty after draining sessions with his clients. She'd let him cry into the cradle of her neck after a day's worth of panic attacks as he tried to build a new place in his life for his parents. And through it all, she'd loved him. She'd loved him, she'd loved him. And he'd loved her too, because she knew what it was, to live like that. To be shredded and unwilling to look at her pieces long enough to reassemble them.

And yet. He'd still cheated on her. And then he'd done it again, and again, and again, to other partners that came after her. How many people had come up against his fever, promised to love him through it, only to end up burning to death in his arms?

"I don't... know. I mean, yes, but it wasn't you," he said again, speaking through the guilt pouring down his cheeks. Vitus pawed at his face, if only to save her the sight of him like that, but it didn't quite work. "Nothing is ever enough. I don't know why. I wish I could tell you, but I don't—Something in me is just—" He gestured at his sternum, trying to indicate the ache in there, the beast that had been demanding more more more for as long as he could remember. "I know how much you loved me. And I loved you like that too. I really did."

To make matters worse—Leyla's lips quivered, too, and Vitus immediately wanted to step forward. He wanted to reach, offer his open palm to her, say what can I give you? just like he did the night they met. He didn't. He stayed in place, battered by guilt over the fact that he had broken her so severely ten years ago that she still didn't believe in love, still couldn't talk to him without crying.

"I'm sorry. I'm really glad you're doing better. I worried about you, a lot, after—" A sniffle. Another hand across his face, as if he could wipe his identity right off of himself, bury it in the sand, and start fresh as someone new. "I'm so sorry, Leyla. I know it can't fix anything. But I just—I never stopped being sorry."

"Good, I don't have to worry," she joked, but shrugging, "uh, maybe, if you're watching me." Her intent was fully to get something small and super plain, but she wouldn't tell the other woman that. She seemed like the female Willy Wonka by the sounds of her so far. "I don't know that I've had a cupcake in...a very long time. I don't think I can even remember what those taste like." Trying new things sounded equally bad to her. Aside from a business perspective, Leyla didn't really like to venture out from her safety net of the known much. "There's cotton candy, that might also give you a sugar high for a solid week. Add chocolate chips and you're all set," she said, probably proving her point about not being a sweets person.

"Vanilla's a classic for a reason, so no judgment here," She nodded. "I at least hope you'll get sprinkles or something, makes it more fun." she laughed, then raised an eyebrow at her comment. She realized other people may not have shared the same love for sweets she did, but hearing it out loud made her question her company for a moment. "Everyone has their own preferences, mine just happens to be every and any type of dessert. I would've made cupcakes, but this was just on a whim," and what kind of reward would it be if she had to make it herself? "Yeah, it is a bit overwhelming. That's why I stuck to my one favorite flavor, but I suppose life should be about trying new things." she commented, even as she stared longingly at the empty spot where the cookie dough should've been.

"You're welcome," she said softly, "I actually picked this up at What's The Tea recently. Their tea is really fantastic." Watching as he grabbed a fork for his fruit, she then placed the teapot on the stove to heat the water. "I'm the employee I have to tell to go home," she offered with a bit of a laugh, "and still keep working." She had always been bad about giving up control, still trying to do absolutely everything herself. "I always liked school--well, the work part anyway." She was about to ask about the fun of lesson planning when he answered that himself. "Words easily blend together after a while, right?" She perked up at the mention of the dogs, her favorite roommates in all honesty. "If you ever need help with them, someone to check on them while you're in class or something, I love dogs."

"Thanks," he offered her a bright smile in return, before locating a fork, deciding not to be a total barbarian that afternoon and picking at the fruit in the bowl, chewing through a piece of pineapple thoughtfully. "Makes sense. You're your own boss, and you best employee, right?" Unless she had someone else who did the dirty work! And even then, she probably still deserved a raise. "I do, at the community college," he nodded. "This is the time of year where I start gearing up to teach again, hence the snack break. Lesson plans are only fun for so long," which could be sad about any type of work, he was sure. "That, and I gotta take the dogs out in a few."

Leyla got a bit of a rush anytime anyone recognized her place because it was her pride and joy. The cumulation of years of work and battles. It made the journey worth it all to finally have the one thing that could belong to her. "Thank you for saying that!" She replied, her countenance brightening all the more. "It's sort of my passion, having a comfortable place for anyone and everyone to come and be welcome. Not that the other bars aren't welcoming, I'm sure they are, but sometimes you just want or need something different." But she was blabbering on, so she just smiled and nodded, "it's an open offer anytime."

Sounded like she was talking to the right person then, Leyla thought she seemed like she really knew what she was doing around here. "I've actually been involved in a program kind of like this before," she said, though leaving out that she was in it not volunteering, "I think they're great programs. Animals are true healers, in my opinion. How did you get involved?"

Livvy's eyes brightened a little bit at the mention of Mawk Tales; even though the establishment was newer to town, she had fallen in love with heading there after work for a few drinks and social time with co-workers, not having to worry about heading home drunk afterwards. "I love it there! It's such a great idea, especially in a town full of bars," she laughed. "I'll absolutely run that by the founder, see if we can get something figured out."

When she was asked how long she had been working on the program, she let out a thoughtful 'hmm,' before answering. "I've been working with the program since June of last year, then in January started training and taking some courses to get more involved. The founder's looking to retire in the next year or so, I'm hoping I can step up and take over for her."

She knew he never meant to, and that just made it worse. He loved love, which had once been something she herself had loved about him. When you were his moment, it was the most intoxicating thing in the world because you were everything. But that's the thing about moments, there's always another right after it. They're fleeting. She'd never been more loved than that time Vitus had loved her, but she had also never had the kind of pain the end brought. She had tried to hurt him back, make him feel what she was feeling, but by the look on his face, he was still the same. It hadn't deterred him from doing it again and again, still chasing love like another high. In actuality, that's all it was by Leyla's estimation.

"Don't." She replied, a mix of malice and flicker of that old brokenness, "you don't get to talk about what I deserve." Because no matter how much she had wanted him to know that she made it, she didn't want to need anything from him. Not now. Everyone in town saw the end result, the polished version she spent decades perfecting. He knew, though, knew what she didn't want anyone to know: it had been a messy, twisted journey, and there had almost been no Leyla Tehrani left to open Mawk Tales at all.

They were both really fucked up, back then and probably still now. She still said mean things like she knew how to hurt him, as if his life had been happy and hers alone had not, but they both knew that wasn't true. He'd had plenty ripped away from him in the blink of an eye. It just still didn't give him the right to be reckless with others. His silence said he knew that.

"I know I am," she replied, once again wishing he wasn't being kind about it. "Then what would it have taken? I spent so much time playing it all back in my head, and--I know I wasn't perfect. I was a lot of work, but I loved you as best I knew how--I couldn't love myself, but you--you were easy to love. If love is really some beautiful and powerful thing, why wasn't that enough to stop you? Did you just want more?" For all the therapy she'd received, this is the one wound she wouldn't let anyone in to see, so it was the one that could re-open so easily. She wanted to pull him close and drown him in the nearby ocean all at the same time, with the same fire. He didn't have any right to ask, and after what he'd done, part of her still wanted the same punishment for him: to never know the answer to those questions. "--Eating? Yes," she relented, "okay might be a totally different question altogether. It doesn't go away, but I've been seeing Dr. Lane at the community center. Keeps me on top of things. But what's still broken in me, Vitus, you cannot fix." She took a breath, lip wobbling in a way that made her curse herself. He could still get right through, and it just made her want to push harder to close right back up. No one was allowed this close, not anymore. He looked better, still sad behind the eyes, but physically, he seemed okay. She wasn't ready to ask yet about him. "I know I said I wanted you to always be miserable, but it doesn't actually make me feel better to see you like this. Love's not real, stop chasing it."

Another agonized wince, as Leyla sliced deeper. But she said it without anger this time. Just laid the truth at his feet, left it there for him to take back, because it wasn't hers anymore and never would be again. And she was right; he'd done his damage. He'd done it over and over, winding lovers and friends around his hands and then spinning them loose repeatedly. Never with the intent to harm, but what difference did it make when harm was all he seemed to be capable of sometimes? Too choked to answer her question directly, Vitus let the remorse in his expression be his response.

And as she spoke of her business, the quaint atmosphere she'd cultivated for herself, Vitus's empathy leaked into his eyes. He tried to rein it in without much success. "That's fantastic, Leyla. Nobody deserves it more than you," he said, and he meant it. Because he remembered how hard she worked for it. How her constant battle for control had left her bone-brittle and frail, on the brink of fracture between his arms.

He did know what it was like, to go to bed happy and have his life turned upside down in the matter of a single day. He'd fallen asleep that fateful November in 2005 as a son, a love-drunk kid, a boyfriend. By the end of the next night, he'd been reduced to a barren street corner and a duffle bag that smelled like a home he no longer had. But he'd never told her that. Vitus had told her about his parents and his homelessness, of course; hers had been the arms he'd retreated to when he finally got that phone call from his mother, saying she wanted to reconnect. But Leyla had only poked around the edges of his wounds, never seen what they looked like when they were bloody and raw. He almost never shared his hurt with anyone back then. And he wouldn't share it with her now. Couldn't, not when he'd already forced her to hold far too much of it when he abruptly exited her life.

"I know. And you're right to. Hate me, I mean." It stung to admit that, especially as he continued picking through the rubble of their short-lived time together. "But it wasn't... Leyla," he sighed, as if exhaling her name could help alleviate some of the weight that had settled over his torso, threatening to cave his ribs in. "It wasn't because you weren't enough. It was never that. It was about me. It's always me." She hadn't believed him back then, and he had no idea if she would believe him now. The animal caged in his chest howled, screamed, wailed for something just out of reach. Vitus wanted to let it out, wanted to show it to her. As it was, he just sighed again and raked his hands through his hair. The ocean breeze almost swallowed his voice as he added, "I know I don't have any right to ask, but are you okay? I mean, have you been... how are you doing, these days?"

She wanted more for him, same as she wanted from him. It was six months ten years ago, and she could still remember every bit of it. If she let it, her mind would trick her into believing he was safe again. That was the thing about Vitus, though. She would push him, say things that would piss off any other person, and he'd only acknowledge it in his own quiet, self-destructive way. Sometimes, she almost wished he wasn't sorry because it would make the truth so much easier to bear.

But he was. It just didn't take it away: the pain, the anger, the feeling that if she'd been somebody else it wouldn't have happened. She wasn't the first, though, and by the looks of his face, not the last. He left a wake behind him, and that's what she fought against. It's why she couldn't forgive him. "So you've already done your damage, haven't you?" She asked, venom draining momentarily from her words. She almost wanted the anger back, then she wouldn't feel so...sad.

Once upon a time, he'd have held her when she felt this way and all the broken pieces would have just slid right back into place. Like a puzzle. But that's all it was...a Once Upon a Time, a fairytale, a happily ever after that never gets finished. The book just closes on all the unanswered questions. "Yeah," she muttered, "it's a safe place. The kind of place I wanted growing up--the kind of place we would have benefitted from. Where people are kind, know you, accept you...it's warm." It wasn't a reflection of her, thank goodness, but it was the dream. It was the little girl she'd been once. It was for her.

How did he do that? Even when she hated him, she told him things. "Listen, I know I said some things last we talked that I--I shouldn't have said," in the closest thing to an apology he would get, "but you broke me. Do you know what it's like to go to bed one night the happiest you've ever been in your life and the next day, it's...gone? Trust doesn't grow back the same when it's ripped from you, the innocent, naive belief that the person who loves you can't possibly hurt you--would be absolutely incapable of it--it doesn't come back. And whether I get hit by a bus tomorrow or live past 100, I think I'll hate you forever for that. For saying you loved me and all the ways that wasn't enough--for making me believe that meant I wasn't enough."

He'd lost entire days with Leyla, but he hadn't lost her. He remembered small details, and they came into sharper focus the more she talked, reaching with her voice to tug them loose. Details like her father's name, Rahim; her birthday, late May; the roses he had woken her with the morning she turned twenty-four. Vitus rubbed his sternum while she spoke, like he could still feel her after all these years.

And she could still feel him too, it seemed, because she turned the last sentence into a projectile and struck him right across the face with it. A wince tangled his expression.

"I'm..." Sorry. But he'd already said that, so many times, and she'd never wanted to hear it. He couldn't ease Leyla's pain like he used to, but he could give her the truth, at least: "I moved last August. Been here a full year now. I—" Cheated on my girlfriend and lost her and needed a change of scenery. Another blink, at that, as he realized what he was about to say. Ten years, during which time she'd opened that business she always wanted for herself, and what had he done meanwhile? The very same thing that had destroyed their relationship. Even after arriving here for his fresh start, he'd broken multiple people's trust. Her reminder of that lodged itself in his throat, clawing down into his ribcage, until all he could do was laugh incredulously at himself. Or try to, at least. The sound grabbed his guilt on its way out and morphed into something painful. "God. Fuck."

He forced his eyes to stay on her, lest he run again. She really did look the same—that same strong nose he'd once admired, the same hands he'd once held between his own. A few bits of tenderness, aching and bruised, pushed through to the surface. "That's... really good. That you opened your own place."

"It truly is," she agreed, "I've never been in a town so small that everyone does things like this and knows everyone else, it's an experience." She found it beautiful, even if she couldn't imagine what that had to feel like to grow up here. It seemed a little magical. As he confirmed that was him, she smiled brightly, "very happy. It's great, a dream. The coast here is beautiful, and I couldn't have imagined a better place to put my bar. You should stop by, a mocktail on me for all your firm's help."

"That's the wild part, isn't it?" he laughed, shaking his head, "not just that everyone spends time together at these events, but that they genuinely enjoy doing it, like seeing each other, hanging out." And they didn't get tired of one another, that was perhaps the most miraculous part of all. "Very nice to meet you, Leyla," he smiled, giving her hand a warm, firm shake before letting his head fall to a tilt when she mentioned the firm. "Yes, that's me. And aha! So you're -- hopefully -- a happy client of ours, then. How is the space working out for you?"

"It is! Once I'm done, I'm happy to let you borrow it if you would like," she offered, "even if you don't own your own business, I think any woman can benefit from some of the lessons." Anything female empowerment should be shared in Leyla's opinion. "Aren't those quite spicy or is the show overselling? I would think that's very exciting," she quipped.

"Oh, that sounds interesting," she commented. She loved anything about empowerment and that sort of thing, and loved how readily available. "That's very bold of you. I'm reading through the Bridgerton books, not very exciting at all, but I enjoy it for what it is."

Leyla smiled warmly, though it had been a little jarring to have a ball flying at her face, it had clearly not been intentional. Following his gaze for a second, she wondered if one of the kids over there was his. "Very," she answered his question first, "it's a book for female entrepreneurs, Girl Code. I read a lot of business books these days. Is one of those kids over there yours? I saw you do a Dad check."

"You got it," Wesley couldn't help but chuckle at Leyla's response. Well, at least she wasn't upset. He glanced over at Ary for a second then back over at Leyla. "Good read?" he asked, head tilting in an attempt to make out just what book she had been reading anyway.

Leyla was actually forward to the game, watching was participating and no one would try to make her do anything during that timeframe. Best of both worlds. "That's where you say you hope for a good game and wish all the best," she agreed, "do you know anything about volleyball?"

"That sounds like fun," Lara said in response. She was excited to watch both teams play. It would be a great experience to be out there and just enjoy it while being out in the summer sun. "I think it'll be fun. I also have friends on both sides, so I have to root for both!" she chuckled.

"Yeah, can you imagine adding alcohol to the smack-talking that's already going down?" Even sitting reading her book, she could feel the competitive nature in the air and hear some of the conversations around her. "Definitely not," she agreed. Besides, when it basically tasted the same why add something more volatile to the mix. "I do," she said proudly, "it's been sort of a lifelong dream come true. I would love it if you stopped by, it's a place for everyone. Something like a bar atmosphere without the alcohol, but it's quieter so you can actually enjoy your friends. What do you do?"

"I mean it's far too early to break out the booze anyway, especially with kids around. Last thing they need are adults liquored up playing volleyball and getting into arguments." she chuckled, not that she expected that to happen often but you know, anything could happen when you mixed alcohol with heat, competition, and time in the sun. "Don't need to be breaking up potential issues before the fun has even begun." And this was away to enjoy something like a cocktail without worrying and it was hydrating. "Oh! You own the business? I keep meaning to stop in, one night after work I would love to see more of what it's like. Think having a place you can go and feel like you're getting a drink without it being just some kind of soda is amazing."

Leyla usually tried to keep her looking back to therapy sessions, especially to that time, this man. However, looking directly at him made that part hard to ignore. If she was supposed to feel any relief he was still alive, it was jumbled up in all the other emotions she was rapidly trying to process. Fury was winning out as she stared at her own personal nightmare.

She waited for an explanation, one she hoped would be just stumbling through, not here to hurt kind, trusting people. None was offered as he looked at her like he was just struck dumb. "Yes, I do," she snipped, "I finally started my own business. It's called Mawk Tales, it's here on the coast." Part of her still told him like she hoped he'd be proud, but if he actually said that, she might lose her shit in front of all of these people. "What are you doing here? These people still trust--at least most of them seem to, and you and I both know that you are not built to hold anyone's trust."

Vitus had lost the borders of his twenties to a head-fogged downward spiral, crafted by his parents and accelerated by his own hand. Without structure, his memories had buckled and bent inward toward each other. Some had collapsed entirely. He'd carried the pieces with him ever since. And now, up from the rubble of those years, Leyla rose like pinpoint-sharp debris, resurrected. She brought the same blaze with which she'd bitten him during those last few conversations they had. Her rage had followed him cross-country back then, bleeding across the width of the States. Before his eyes had even finished clearing, his skin began to itch. With flame, with scar tissue, with memory.

She looked the same. No, she looked better, healthier, than he recalled. Even as decade-old remorse slammed him sideways, squeezing all the breath from his lungs at once, he couldn't help but feel a touch of relief at that. Despite everything, she'd made it to her thirties. So many other loved ones from back then hadn't. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came right away, so he closed it again. Another few blinks, like he couldn't be sure she was real. And then, stupidly, quietly, "Leyla? What are you—What? You live here now?"

There was a peace in a small town life, but Leyla wasn't sure that meant she had to be out in the crowd. It let people too close to her, and while it was important for her business that people like her, she wasn't sure she wanted people close enough to see her. She saved herself in the end, and she didn't need anyone trying to help anymore: she didn't need friends, she didn't need saviors, she didn't need anyone.

A book kept some away and others to nothing more than a brief exchange of pleasantries, so she kept it on her like a shield. Maybe that's why she immediately held it to her chest when she heard that voice. It sounded so casual--like the first she'd heard it--she thought she might hurl right here. "No, for you, I don't," she finally managed, feeling that old familiar rage she was sure she'd already worked through rise again like a phoenix from ashes. "You have no business in a small town, Vitus." Hasn't he broken enough people?

@leyla-tehrani Beach Bash: August 26, 2023

A life powered by caffeinated beverages and nightlife meant Vitus had no trouble staying up late into the evening, which was exactly what he'd done after setting up his tent last night. The downside, however, was that he often stirred around 11 or noon, and missed most of the morning's festivities. He popped out to discover the sun already blazed high overhead. It bathed the whole beach in dazzling yellow-white, the sand glowing like small embers beneath his feet. The water reflected the light, too, shimmering and sharp against his unadjusted eyes. The circumstances were enough to disorient him, leaving him standing there like a sleepy, stranded sailor.

Luckily, though, there was someone sitting only a few feet off from his tent, her nose buried in a book. "Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you have the time?" Yawning, Vitus rubbed his eyes free of sea salt and blinked, trying to clear his vision.