Leyla Sighed, Knowing That Was Very Much True. One Of The Reasons She Preferred The Company Of Women

alyssasutterstylist “@boosheri ➰ chic in @theory__”

"I've never seen anything quite like it," Leyla commented, "it's like one great big family who actually like doing things with each other." She wasn't sure yet how she fit into it all, but if her roommates had any say in it, she would in time. "No, afraid we haven't. I'm Leyla Tehrani," she introduced herself back as she took his hand. "It's nice to meet you. Is the real estate firm yours: Bardales, Inc.? That's who I used when I purchased my space for Mawk Tales."

"End of summer, beginning of summer…" he let out a laugh as he shook out his beach blanket and laid it out next to his new company's. "Fall, winter, spring, we make a big deal out of everything," noto that he was going to complain. It meant a lot of opportunity to see people he otherwise didn't see, meet new ones along the way. That, and he actually was looking forward to playing volleyball. "I don't think we've had the chance to meet, have we? Rafael Bardales." He held out a hand, keeping the same polite, warm smile in place.

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."

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."

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.

#sleeping beauty 

"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.

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."

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.