Everyone Was Having A Good Time, And That's What Was Important. She Just Wasn't Sure She Wanted To Be

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."

As much as she had originally been not the most enthusiastic about being here, Leyla had to admit it had been a really nice weekend. Having spent so much time in New York, it was strangely refreshing--and equally terrifying--to be seen. She had never been a small town before, and it was a bit like a movie the way people were kind. "You're not bothering me," she assured as she set her book aside and extended her hand for the lotion, "the back's the hardest part. Always better with two. Are you enjoying your weekend?"

who: LIBBY & LEYLA! @leyla-tehrani

where: beach bash.

when: sometime during the late afternoon (August 26th).

Libby was reading one of her spicy romance novels and listened to Hozier's new album in her earphones, and it was her perfect way to spend a day on the beach. Especially after the big volleyball game. An hour or so passed before she realized that she needed to reapply her sunscreen, wanting to avoid her already pink-tinted skin getting sunburned. The squirt of the lotion bottle sounded and Libby massaged some between her hands, trying to get every bit of skin she could. Libby struggled a moment to get a certain area on her back and when she couldn't fight it anymore, she decided she needed to ask for a little bit of help. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but could you please help me put some sun lotion on my back? I've tried to do it myself and I've learned that I don't have long enough arms."

CINNAMON ROLL DAY! -- @aishathevar @emelineviolette @leyla-tehrani

Because you guys are the best adopted dog parents that Walter and Gale could ask for, and also because you deal with me being a man... and that makes you cinnamon rolls in my eyes.

xx Dare

"We have the best intentions, don't we?" She agreed with a giggle. "Keep things exciting." She wasn't sure if that sounded pathetic or not because that was true. She read way more than she actually went out for things, even if she was sure her roommates were planning on changing that. "Are you going to be camping tonight?"

"That's about my whole bookshelf," she said with a laugh and a grin. "It's good to have something light as a palate cleanser, or to just keep the genres in a good variety rotation."

"They are," Leyla assured, "I've sampled them all myself before putting them on the menu, so you can't go wrong." She was leaving nothing to chance, putting her whole being into making this concept work. There were a couple of bars in the area, so she had competition but no one was doing exactly what she was doing. They might have non-alcoholic options, though. That's why she had to work extra hard to make her place stand out as something special. "Great choice!" She replied, beaming, "I leave that menu then." As she began to make the drink herself, she decided she should probably strike up a conversation like any other bartender would do. What would Sam Malone do? "So what do you do?"

"They all sound kinda good," Che said, eyeing up the menu. He'd often spend time like this at bars with alcoholic beverages, but it was early and it was a work night and he was trying not to be the worst. "Go with the strawberry basil one, then." He smiled over at Leyla. "And then maybe something more smoothie-like afterwards for my second drink."

Leyla had spent years, before and after him, trying to believe that, and it was one thing she still struggled to accept. She would hear her parents sigh when they had to pay for another treatment, even when her mother had always been the first to comment when she looked comfortable. She was a lot of work. But at the end of the day, it was love that wasn't enough. Love: the invisible concept that was supposed to make the world better. But it didn't. It was empty. Empty words, empty hopes, empty rooms. "Only you could say that after what you've done and I still believe you," she mused. When he said it, she felt a strange sense of comfort as if it were true. As if she weren't difficult or exhausting, as if she were worth loving...

It was good while it lasted, from go, he was magnetic. He was her hero, swooping in to save her at the right moment. Back then, when she had believed in love, she used to love with every part of her being. Like an electric current that kept her alive. Even through all their troubles, they felt possible to overcome. Because they were together. She may not have survived without him, and she was almost surprised she did when she lost him. Her anorexia fueled anew by spite, and it was almost a blaze that consumed her entirely. The memory made her weak, fragile heart start to pound in her chest. No one could save her that time, she had to learn to save herself. Maybe he deserved some thanks for that.

Suddenly, she was hyperaware of the busy world around them: laughing children, people splashing in the water, running around, happily chatting about how great the day was. It was hardly the place for this, especially by the exhausted looks of him, so she nodded, "okay. Maybe you can come to Mawk Tales after closing sometime--I don't live alone." She looked over at him, not sure what to say, "enjoy the rest of your day, Vitus." Then she paused and added, "I think I mean that."

"No. It was never exhausting," he said, his voice sturdier despite his lingering tears. This was one truth that hadn't changed in all the years that had passed between them: "Loving you was the easy part."

It was true—he'd tripped over his clumsy feet and fallen straight into her when they met. Some nights were more difficult than others, certainly, but Vitus attributed that to their circumstances more than any personal faults. His love for Leyla had known no limits in its intensity. It had burned through him like wildfire, scorching every inch and edge of his skin, dizzying him with head-smoke. That all-consuming heat had lit him up during a time in his life when everything else inside him felt wholly, horribly dark. Vitus had fled to California after he lost her, searching for anything else that burned like she did, and what he found in Los Angeles almost killed him. It would be a lie, to say he didn't utterly regret losing Leyla the way he did.

"I'm sorry, I'm just—" At a loss for an appropriate adjective, Vitus gestured at the all of himself. Sleep still dragged at his eyelids. He was battling a weed-and-liquor hangover, and his hands had begun to twitch in search of a cigarette, any kind of reprieve from discomfort. Vitus rubbed his face and sniffled again, grateful the tears had begun to slow, at least. "Can we—if it's not too much to ask. Can we meet somewhere else, please? Somewhere private. And I can answer every question you have then." No way would he be able to give her anything close to satisfaction, caught off guard on the middle of a beach like this.

Leyla sighed, knowing that was very much true. One of the reasons she preferred the company of women far more, it was hard to know which men you could really trust. "I'm doing my part, I guess," she said, wanting to put the good in the world that she had needed growing up.

"You're welcome, you seem like the horse whisperer type," she complimented. She nodded as the woman mentioned it taking her back, scents were usually very strongly attached to memory. Unfortunately, not all could be good. This one was though. It represented healing. "Uh, not really. Not as much as I would have liked. I was in New York before this, and there's less opportunity. I would like to get into it more again."

"They're everywhere," she scrunched her nose, knowing that there wasn't a single woman on the planet who hadn't, at some point in their life, dealt with that exact kind of man. Unfortunately. "I think that's really admirable. We need more good in the world, less of the bad stuff." And if Leyla was here, trying to volunteer with the program, than Livvy already believed that she was heading in the right direction.

"Thank you," she laughed, reaching up to touch her hair, no longer in a braid, but still pulled back loosely at the back of her neck. Some habits died hard, after all. She had changed a lot since high school and the younger years, but there were some parts of her that she knew would never actually change, and she was grateful for that. "Oh, me too," an eager nod, "the smell of hay, or leather… takes me back, you know? Outside of what you mentioned earlier, do you ride horses a lot?"

Leyla Tehrani, End of Summer Beach Bash, August 25-26, 2023

WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING (2022) dir. Olivia Newman