Dunkirk (2017) Dir. Christopher Nolan

Give me a number. What?

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

"Oh good because I do," Leyla admitted, not in a rude way--well, maybe sometimes in a rude way. Just not aloud. She also didn't have the most faith in people, so maybe that was part of it. "I feel oddly at peace with them, there is something about them, which is probably why equine therapy is a thing, I guess." Her interest piqued as the woman beside her brought up dressage. "I always thought that much be such fun. Nostalgic? So you don't compete anymore?"

"You can always judge for taste," Elise said, a bit cheeky. She had cultivated an image for herself that veered just an ounce into snobby territory, but never too far. "Yeah, it's an awesome place, and an awesome opportunity. They're the coolest animals out there, and Harmony Healers does such a good job." She patted the horse's neck. "We do, when we can. We both did dressage growing up, so it's kinda nostalgic."

"Right. So you do remember?" She said with a warm smile. Good for him. As someone in the customer service business, she always found that to be a highly valuable trait. "I heard about that," she admitted, "I'm considering it actually. I've always wanted one, but I do share custody of my roommates' dogs and I work so much...I'm never sure if I'll have the time." She was really saying too much to the guy just trying to make her coffee. "I think there was worse things to be than a crazy cat lady," she replied with a small laugh, "oh, you definitely shouldn't have! So is the dog Blake Lively or Hugh Jackman?"

Chandler nodded. "Still want that hot and medium, right?" He confirmed, keeping himself busy behind the bar as he continued to talk to her about the pets. "They actually have some adoption event coming up at the end of this week." He informed her and nodded as she commented it was hard not to adopt all of the cats. "Yeah, I also have a dog at home so I'm keeping my limit at one of each 'cause I'm not gonna turn into the crazy cat lady in my neighborhood. But his name is Ryan Reynolds - that was what the shelter named him and I couldn't possibly de-Reynolds him, you know?"

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."

#sleeping beauty 

Leyla knew there had been a concert about a month ago, but she hadn't gone. The idea of really being part of the town, opening herself up to people again, it sort of scared her. It was much easier to do it all in the context of work. Still, she had seen the posters and thought she remembered seeing his face in one somewhere. "Do you mind if we talk a little business then?" She asked, "because I want to put on some events in the bar, and I thought live music would be a great option. I know you're more of a...louder band, but do you ever perform any acoustic sets?"

"Thanks!" he offered up a warm smile as she began working on his drinks. At the question of being in a band, he confirmed with a nod. He wasn't entirely sure which band she was referring to, but he could probably safely assume she wasn't a devoted fan of any sort and just had heard around town. "I am, yeah."

"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?"

WHO: Leyla & Open. (4/4) WHERE: Mawk Tales

It wasn't that Leyla didn't like alcohol. In truth, she didn't mind it at all. That wasn't the point of this place. The point was the inclusivity, the point was that everyone was welcome, the point was that it was a safe place for all friends. It was why out of any business, this is the one she pursued to completion. It was the one she had needed once upon a time.

"What can I get you? My personal favorite is the Strawberry Basil Mocktail or the Ginger Turmeric smoothie we have. Or do you need a minute?"

Leyla wasn't sure kids would be in her future, not now, not after everything, but she loved watching others experience that joy. Especially mothers and daughters, there was a special bond with them--or there was supposed to be. "Beautiful," she complimented, "she looks like you. Are you two very close?"

Lara nodded in agreement. She was pretty proud of how adventurous Lily had become. And moreso in the past few years. She liked to see her daughter take on different interests. "She's..." Lara looked around. "Ah... there she is," she nodded towards a lanky girl with curly hair in a ponytail in shorts and a tank top talking to other kids who looked like young teens.