Leyla Had Lived Alone Before This In A New York Apartment And Saw Very Little Reason To Decorate For

Leyla knew she wasn't the only one who ever had bad life circumstances or a far from dream relationship with parents or family, so it was sort of an innate learning one had to do: find the good. It just wasn't always so innate. "Exactly, like riding a bike, I guess," she mused. As she suspected, he could go when he wanted. "Do you think you'd ever go back and live there or are you here to stay?" It was a question she asked herself a lot, especially with the idea of being known in such a small town. It made her want to run. "That's the dream, though, to have something that large that you can call your own. I used to watch Shark Tank all the time when I was younger, just wishing I could be in one of those seats someday."

Rafael's smile was lopsided, but sincere. He knew what she was talking about; if you could take one good thing out of a bad situation, it hadn't been for nothing. And sometimes even those bad situations had their reasoning for happening, whether or not you realized it at the time. But that was neither here nor there, and his thoughts shifted seamlessly to the idea of languages, nodding his head, "I can understand that, sort of all comes back to you." Listening to his mother talk to herself in Italian, or his father speaking Spanish on the phone, sometimes shifted things in his brain, as well. "Sometimes," he nodded. "But I'm lucky enough that I can take the trip when I like to, and there is the beach here, even if it's not quite the same," he grinned, at that thought. Different worlds, really. "By now, I'm used to it. But about the time that I got into real estate and realized that I had really, actually created something quite… large, it absolutely felt surreal."

"Yeah, there's usually some good in every experience," Leyla regurgitated some therapist's advice, though she was still working on that as a consistent mindset. "I met some really great people while I was there," she admitted. Nodding, she said, "if I spend too much time with my parents, I do." She was actually enjoying having this conversation with someone who also had the experience of not being born in America. It was so different sometimes. "Do you ever miss it?" Then again, with the business he owned, he could probably go home whenever he wanted. A quick and easy jump on a plane. Smiling, she agreed, "go us. Does it ever start feeling real? Or do you still sometimes wake up thinking 'there's no way this business is mine'?"

"Then that's all that matters, is that you found something enjoyable out of the whole experience," he knew not to push past that, understanding that family could be a tricky subject, especially when discussing with a stranger at a beach party. But discovering more about where you came from and your history was never a bad thing, either, that was for sure. "Do you ever find yourself thinking in one language over another?" he aksed curiously. "It took me a long time to realize I had started thinking in English, since I grew up speaking Italian and then Spanish," and then moved to the States and everything changed. "It's beautiful," he smied, a wistful expression. Rafael got to visit 'home' every now and then, but it was still a dream when the opportunity arose and he loved every moment of it. "I have," he nodded thoughtfully. "And now you have, too. Go us, right?"

WHO: Leyla & @chvndlr WHERE: Pause for Paws WHEN: September 29, at some point in the day

Leyla was starting to wonder if the guy who worked here was going to think she was aiming for his job for the amount of time she spent in here. She had seen him in her shop with his blonde friend, so they were sort of even. In a not at all way. He had a few more visits needed to catch up on work place visits. Her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, she gave him a little smile as she approached, offering a "me again." She also wondered if she said the usual if he'd even remember what that was or if he didn't pay that much attention to what guests ordered. He didn't exactly scream 'customer service is what I live for'. "Cinnamon latte," she said, looking around before asking, "hey, this is probably a stupid question, but are the cats here adoptable?"

"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."

Give me a number. What?

- Lady Bird (2017), dir: Greta Gerwig.

For all her lack of festiveness, Leyla really did love the view here. If you could drown out all the other noise, the sound of the ocean waves was nice. Looking up from her book as she had company, she smiled warmly, "not at all. Make yourself comfortable. You guys really do make a big thing of the end of summer around here, huh?"

WHO: Rafael & @leyla-tehrani

WHERE: The Beach

WHEN: End of Summer Beach Bash

Rafael did love the beach. Normally, he preferred the quiet afternoons through the week, when there wasn't quite as much noise and fuss, when people could pitch a canopy, lay out a towel, not worry about the world around them. But he couldn't deny that the beach party was still a good time, even with the laughing, screaming kids hanging about. As he took stock of the people nearby, he saw a woman sitting with a book in hand, and figured it was a safe spot, stopping nearby and offering a polite smile. "Mind if I take up a little space next to you?"

That actually may not be a bad idea, test them on how they think on their feet. As long as you sprinkle in some professional questions too. Yeah, I was the nerdy kid in school who liked doing her homework so I could do the math for you. That would be great! I would love to work with you to expand the options. I'm a big fan of paint and sips myself, so I'll be coming by to one of your sessions.

Oh that'll be fun. I can ask the most random, jarring questions and--I'm kidding, I'm a professional, I promise! Yeah, it would be so much easier if someone else had to worry about the math for me, ugh. I'm gonna stop by some time and try a drink or two. I'm also trying to expand options for our paint and sip sessions. Something that is more exciting than apple cider! Perfect, I got you!

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 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?"

Leyla kind of wondered if Darrius was bothered at all by a house full of women, whether he hoped a guy would take the free room and make it even. He'd never given off that impression though, so she hoped that meant he didn't mind it. "Coming right up," she replied, a hint of a grin back. It was easier to keep people at a distance in New York, but she was going to have a harder time here. Still, there was something warm about Darrius that made it easy to feel comfortable. "Always," she half-joked, "entrepreneurs can't really keep regular hours. You teach, right? So I guess you know a little about that too, huh?"

Darrius's living situation had been a bit of a whirlwind throughout the course of his life. Growing up with siblings, sharing bedrooms, and then living on his own when he moved to Michigan… only to come home to that childhood bedroom all over again. Then his own apartment in Merrock, and now a home. With three women, granted, but he had come to love that. Especially when they offered to make him tea. "I'll take some, yeah," he smiled, having chosen a small bowl of fruit that he had cut up a couple of days ago. Turning towards the island in the middle of the kitchen, he popped a grape in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. "Were you working?"