Leyla-tehrani - Almost Here.

When Leyla saw there would be horseback rides at Creek Fest, she knew there would be no needing to convince her to step away from her booth to do that. She had been volunteering at Harmony Healers for just a little while, but she hadn't gotten near enough time to ride herself. At the sound of a voice, she looked over to see the question was directed to her. "Who could resist, right?" She replied, "look at these beauties. I'm almost surprised people are doing anything else when this is an option."

Elise could never resist the siren's call of the chance to ride a horse. She'd been going on trail rides with Livvy over the past few months when she could, but she didn't have as much time for it as she'd liked. Now, though, all but ousted from her stand for a few hours, she found herself with the time to do just that. She was captivated for a few moments by the chestnut she'd chosen before she even noticed anyone else near by. "Oh, hello! Are you going for a ride as well?"

@leyla-tehrani

Dunkirk (2017) dir. Christopher Nolan

"I hope not," Leyla said with a slight laugh, "everyone has seemed to like them so far." She wasn't really afraid of that, not in a town like this, but still, she hoped for good feedback. "I'll take hopeless addiction, at least it's mostly healthy ingredients so you can feel relatively guilt-free about it." That was one thing she was really loving about Merrock, everyone was genuinely so kind and supportive of one another. "Apple Cider Mule," She listed off, starting with the one he'd just picked up, "then Autumn Spice, Pumpkin Pie Martini, and Ginger Pear." That way he'd know which one he liked best. "That's the idea, yeah!" She nodded as he asked about her experience, "a little bit. I'm trying to make some time for it because I really do want to see what everyone else has put together. I got some blueberry jam from the Newman Family Farm and this really cute crochet pumpkin." She pulled it out from her bag under the table to show him. "And I plan to catch one of the horseback rides if I can and maybe the Morris Winery. I don't think I'd try it, but I think it might be fun to watch some people grape stomping like that I Love Lucy episode. Where are you headed next?"

"Something tells me that you won't have anyone spitting drinks back out," Josh laughed, shaking his head. Sure, people could have discerning tastes, be picky about the things that they chose to eat and drink, but something told him that no one in this town was going to have a problem with a delicious, fall-themed beverage. "Alright, good deal, that way I know where to go to get my fix once I ended up hopelessly addicted," and then have to find another one that he liked once the Christmas and winter seasons rolled around, that was how this cycle inevitably went, every single time. "Ah, perfect, thank you so much!" He reached for the first drink, admiring the color, and broke into a smile. "I'll definitely end up taking one with me. Feels best to explore a place like this with a drink and snack in hand, doesn't it? Have you gotten the chance to wander around yet?"

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.

Everyone was having a good time, and that's what was important. She just wasn't sure she wanted to be in the middle of chaos. It made it hard to keep a distance from people, made even harder by the approaching roommate who appeared to have a look to make her do something. Still, she smiled back and waved her hand over her book, drink, and beach chair, "is this not a beach activity? I like this one."

who: aisha & @leyla-tehrani

where: the beach bash ( august 26 )

Even though Aisha wasn't participating in the volleyball game, she still wanted to experience everything else the beach bash had to offer. Including spending an unhealthy amount of time in the water. She'd only gotten out to get a drink, and maybe chat with a few friends when she noticed her roommate in a beach chair. She wandered over to her, drying herself off with a towel as she eyed the book she had in her hands. "Hey, Leyla!" she gave a bright smile. "Not a fan of any of the beach activities?"

Turning the page of her book, Leyla had made it back to her chair after being encouraged to participate in other things for a little while. She settled into the peace of the moment when it was suddenly interrupted by a shout, looking up in time to see a ball hurtling toward her. She managed to raise her book over her face in time to block the shot. "I've been called a lot of things, but never a goal," she quipped, "but I blocked it, so you better not count it as a point."

Event: Beach Bash When: afternoon of August 26th Who: Wes + @leyla-tehrani

Wesley was dribbling a soccer ball to keep himself entertained while keeping an eye on his daughter, who was out on the water boogie boarding with her friends. Kicking the ball up into the air, he accidentally kicked it a little too hard, sending the ball flying toward a nearby beach-goer. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, immediately shouting in her direction, "look out!" He jogged over to retrieve the ball, apologizing upon reaching Leyla with a quick, "sorry about that."

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."

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!

Since the moment of his confession, she had wanted something to make it better. Some word, some revenge, some idea...anything that would just make it better. He could offer her none of it. She knew he was sorry, but it wasn't a word that made it go away. It didn't bring the trust back or make her feel less unworthy; it didn't take the carefully crafted walls down or ease the self-talk that plagued her.

She couldn't leave him like this, even after everything. If any of the old Leyla was still alive, she had to care. She hated him, that was still true, but she loved him too. Not in the same way, that was long in the rearview, but people who made it to her heart never really left. Wiping quickly at her own tear, she started to reach for him but pulled her hand away like a flame that would burn. "You'll be okay," she murmured instead.

More of that poison-laced truth. If he wanted it, then why didn't he? That elusive why continued to taunt and torment her. "I'm having trouble believing that," she confessed honestly because it was all she could say. It still felt like her fault. You're too difficult, Leyla... "Maybe you're still just looking for something." Something not in her.

Her heart caved in as that question struck her with a million memories. Hands shaking, fork nervously tapping the plate, 'it's not the food' she would sob as if he didn't already know that. He was a great cook, and he never took any offense when she struggled to eat whatever he made. What do you need from me? When she looked too long in the mirror, counting every flaw. What do you need from me? When her mother called and made some fleeting jab of a remark. What do you need from me? "We're adults, there's no need to avoid each other, it's a small town," she said, leaving all emotion out of her voice. Her questions seemed pointless, and she wasn't sure if he had any more answers. But it came out anyway. "Was it...exhausting to love me? Was it too dark? Did you just need light?"

It was on the tip of his tongue again—another apology, trying to flee his parted lips and find her. Apologizing for apologizing too much was one of Vitus's most stubborn habits, formed over the last few years. He swallowed the rest of his I'm sorry's, forcing the horde of them back down into the core of his body. Leyla didn't want them anymore. Maybe she never had.

Here they were, both crying because Vitus hurt her ten years ago, and yet. Leyla was the one being patient with him. Guiding him back to some semblance of calm, the same way she used to. Deep breaths. She'd told him that when he stumbled home and splintered into a thousand sharp pieces after seeing his mother for the first time in years. As he had back then, Vitus followed her voice, drawing and releasing each breath one at a time. It helped. Of course it helped. And the fact that he'd burdened her with caretaking here, now, with him of all people, only drove the guilt deeper into his chest.

"I know, how it made you feel. How it made you doubt. But I did want to be faithful to you. I swear, I did. I've always wanted to be that guy." The one who could leave home for days at a time and think only of the connection waiting for him there. The one who didn't become excited, in some small part, whenever he cheated on someone. Vitus wanted the happily-ever-after kind of love, just never knew how to hold onto it long enough to make it last. She was right—he needed to figure it out, for the sake of every partner he'd ever hurt and every one he might still hurt down the line.

"What do you need from me?" He had asked her this question before. Intermittently throughout their relationship, as she struggled to look at the food on her plate or keep the future she wanted within sight. Back then it had been a matter of supporting her through personal troubles. This time, it was a matter of yielding to her amid the mess he made. "I can... answer any questions you have. I can steer clear of you around town." Intentional avoidance would heap more pain atop his shoulders, but this wasn't about him. "Whatever you need, Leyla."

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.