Leyla Had Decided To Set Up A Booth At Creek Fest To Let The Town Sample Some Fall Flavors She'd Created.

Love you, definitely love you. As long as we're allowed to eat some of it. But I completely agree with you, I feel like all I want when the weather gets cold is soup. Have you ever made Adasi? It's a Persian lentil soup, and it's delicious. I have a recipe for it if you want to give it a try.

The temperatures are dropping which means it is officially soup season at my place, which means I'm in the mode to make a ton of soups. So far I've already made Italian penicillin, chicken gnocchi, and now I've got bacon cheeseburger potato soup in the making. Nothing better than when the temperatures drop than having something comforting like soup. Pretty sure my roommates are either going to love me or hate me with the fridge full of it. Either way, give me more ideas, what's your must have soups during fall and winter? @merrock

"I agree," she hummed, "they're just...majestic." Smiling as Elise mentioned cats, she admitted, "you have cats? How many? I've been spending more time than a normal person should at the cat cafe. If I'm not careful, I'm going to take one home." Leyla could talk about animals all day. People? She wasn't so sure about most times, but animals? Animals were trustworthy. "That makes sense, sounds like something you'd have to really dedicate too, like no other jobs. Doesn't sound like a bad sports career option, though. I bet it was fun as a kid though, to grow up that way?"

"There's a large and quiet elegance about horses," Elise said, nodding along. "I have cats and those are...fake elegant, whereas the horses are the real thing." She smiled at the interest, most people did not care about dressage in the least. "Nah, you have to be really good and have the time to do it as an adult, it's kind of like many other sports, except it's hard to do for fun if you're not competing."

She knew he never meant to, and that just made it worse. He loved love, which had once been something she herself had loved about him. When you were his moment, it was the most intoxicating thing in the world because you were everything. But that's the thing about moments, there's always another right after it. They're fleeting. She'd never been more loved than that time Vitus had loved her, but she had also never had the kind of pain the end brought. She had tried to hurt him back, make him feel what she was feeling, but by the look on his face, he was still the same. It hadn't deterred him from doing it again and again, still chasing love like another high. In actuality, that's all it was by Leyla's estimation.

"Don't." She replied, a mix of malice and flicker of that old brokenness, "you don't get to talk about what I deserve." Because no matter how much she had wanted him to know that she made it, she didn't want to need anything from him. Not now. Everyone in town saw the end result, the polished version she spent decades perfecting. He knew, though, knew what she didn't want anyone to know: it had been a messy, twisted journey, and there had almost been no Leyla Tehrani left to open Mawk Tales at all.

They were both really fucked up, back then and probably still now. She still said mean things like she knew how to hurt him, as if his life had been happy and hers alone had not, but they both knew that wasn't true. He'd had plenty ripped away from him in the blink of an eye. It just still didn't give him the right to be reckless with others. His silence said he knew that.

"I know I am," she replied, once again wishing he wasn't being kind about it. "Then what would it have taken? I spent so much time playing it all back in my head, and--I know I wasn't perfect. I was a lot of work, but I loved you as best I knew how--I couldn't love myself, but you--you were easy to love. If love is really some beautiful and powerful thing, why wasn't that enough to stop you? Did you just want more?" For all the therapy she'd received, this is the one wound she wouldn't let anyone in to see, so it was the one that could re-open so easily. She wanted to pull him close and drown him in the nearby ocean all at the same time, with the same fire. He didn't have any right to ask, and after what he'd done, part of her still wanted the same punishment for him: to never know the answer to those questions. "--Eating? Yes," she relented, "okay might be a totally different question altogether. It doesn't go away, but I've been seeing Dr. Lane at the community center. Keeps me on top of things. But what's still broken in me, Vitus, you cannot fix." She took a breath, lip wobbling in a way that made her curse herself. He could still get right through, and it just made her want to push harder to close right back up. No one was allowed this close, not anymore. He looked better, still sad behind the eyes, but physically, he seemed okay. She wasn't ready to ask yet about him. "I know I said I wanted you to always be miserable, but it doesn't actually make me feel better to see you like this. Love's not real, stop chasing it."

Another agonized wince, as Leyla sliced deeper. But she said it without anger this time. Just laid the truth at his feet, left it there for him to take back, because it wasn't hers anymore and never would be again. And she was right; he'd done his damage. He'd done it over and over, winding lovers and friends around his hands and then spinning them loose repeatedly. Never with the intent to harm, but what difference did it make when harm was all he seemed to be capable of sometimes? Too choked to answer her question directly, Vitus let the remorse in his expression be his response.

And as she spoke of her business, the quaint atmosphere she'd cultivated for herself, Vitus's empathy leaked into his eyes. He tried to rein it in without much success. "That's fantastic, Leyla. Nobody deserves it more than you," he said, and he meant it. Because he remembered how hard she worked for it. How her constant battle for control had left her bone-brittle and frail, on the brink of fracture between his arms.

He did know what it was like, to go to bed happy and have his life turned upside down in the matter of a single day. He'd fallen asleep that fateful November in 2005 as a son, a love-drunk kid, a boyfriend. By the end of the next night, he'd been reduced to a barren street corner and a duffle bag that smelled like a home he no longer had. But he'd never told her that. Vitus had told her about his parents and his homelessness, of course; hers had been the arms he'd retreated to when he finally got that phone call from his mother, saying she wanted to reconnect. But Leyla had only poked around the edges of his wounds, never seen what they looked like when they were bloody and raw. He almost never shared his hurt with anyone back then. And he wouldn't share it with her now. Couldn't, not when he'd already forced her to hold far too much of it when he abruptly exited her life.

"I know. And you're right to. Hate me, I mean." It stung to admit that, especially as he continued picking through the rubble of their short-lived time together. "But it wasn't... Leyla," he sighed, as if exhaling her name could help alleviate some of the weight that had settled over his torso, threatening to cave his ribs in. "It wasn't because you weren't enough. It was never that. It was about me. It's always me." She hadn't believed him back then, and he had no idea if she would believe him now. The animal caged in his chest howled, screamed, wailed for something just out of reach. Vitus wanted to let it out, wanted to show it to her. As it was, he just sighed again and raked his hands through his hair. The ocean breeze almost swallowed his voice as he added, "I know I don't have any right to ask, but are you okay? I mean, have you been... how are you doing, these days?"

Give me a number. What?

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

"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?"

"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?"

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.

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."

"A lot of competitive spirit," she laughed. She hadn't been here very long, but that was clear. "Me too, my sport was running," she said, before glancing over at where some kids were before looking back, "which one's yours?"

Lara gave her a smile. “Yes! Hope that everyone just has a lot of fun. I know this town has a lot of team spirit,” she said, trying to give extra context to what she meant. “I played in school… for gym class. My daughter is more athletic,” she added.