Give Me A Number. What?

Dunkirk (2017) dir. Christopher Nolan

"Thank you," Leyla replied, still beaming. It was maybe her favorite thing about the business she decided to open: the creativity. She hadn't previously considered herself a very creative person, but this had brought beautiful new challenges. "Easy peasy," she laughed. "Oh, blue curaçao is a liqueur, the syrup substitutes for that to make it non-alcoholic, so you'd just take out that syrup and add the liqueur. Voila, mocktail becomes cocktail." She believed in their being a time for everything, so she didn't have any problem making the suggestion. Especially since the woman did confirm she'd also like to check her place out. "I would love to have you stop by. I offer flight options as well, so you can sample a bit of different things. I can pick out my prettiest ones for you. We'll eventually have some live music nights too, so that'll be something to come enjoy."

"Well, I have to say this is probably the most beautiful drink I've ever seen." Ryn admitted, taking a look at it, trying to really get an idea for how beautiful the drink was. "Oh that's some simple stuff that people just have laying around a lot anyways." she smiled. "It looks delicious. In the chance someone wanted the alcoholic version, what would you suggest they put int it? Though, you did such a good job I may have to just come down to Mawk Tales a lot and get some of these."

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.

Despite not being good at letting people in, Leyla didn't actually mind talking to them, especially in beautiful languages like this one. She smiled as the other woman said she was just watching, nodding. "Me too," she agreed, "I have a roommate on each team, so I'm hoping for a good game. That's all. Then I hope to escape before Aisha has me camping." At the part, she did laugh.

Lara smiled and nodded. "You're welcome," she said, glad that the other could understand her a bit. She always had her phone as well, just in case she'd need it. Typically she could get by with reading lips, but sometimes things would just get a bit complicated. That was the last thing she needed. But she managed to get through the day, both sides unscathed and maybe learning a little bit. "Oh, no, no," she shook her head. "Just watching," she signed. "Cheering on both teams. And you?"

Leyla got a bit of a rush anytime anyone recognized her place because it was her pride and joy. The cumulation of years of work and battles. It made the journey worth it all to finally have the one thing that could belong to her. "Thank you for saying that!" She replied, her countenance brightening all the more. "It's sort of my passion, having a comfortable place for anyone and everyone to come and be welcome. Not that the other bars aren't welcoming, I'm sure they are, but sometimes you just want or need something different." But she was blabbering on, so she just smiled and nodded, "it's an open offer anytime."

Sounded like she was talking to the right person then, Leyla thought she seemed like she really knew what she was doing around here. "I've actually been involved in a program kind of like this before," she said, though leaving out that she was in it not volunteering, "I think they're great programs. Animals are true healers, in my opinion. How did you get involved?"

Livvy's eyes brightened a little bit at the mention of Mawk Tales; even though the establishment was newer to town, she had fallen in love with heading there after work for a few drinks and social time with co-workers, not having to worry about heading home drunk afterwards. "I love it there! It's such a great idea, especially in a town full of bars," she laughed. "I'll absolutely run that by the founder, see if we can get something figured out."

When she was asked how long she had been working on the program, she let out a thoughtful 'hmm,' before answering. "I've been working with the program since June of last year, then in January started training and taking some courses to get more involved. The founder's looking to retire in the next year or so, I'm hoping I can step up and take over for her."

"Ah, you're familiar," she joked, laughing as they both clearly gave away that they were not born there. She nodded, agreeing, "quite." Smiling, she was grateful for the experiences she had, even if not all were full of positive memories. "My parents are Iranian," she explained, "that trip was to see some relatives. I speak both fluent Farsi and French, so both places allowed me to exercise those languages more. But it is, I would go back to Paris if the opportunity arose." Leaning against the arm of her beach chair, she beamed at the compliment to her business idea. "Thank you for saying so," she said quietly, "it seems to fill a need. I was hoping it would, but the feedback has been really positive." It was one thing to know and to hear it from customers, and another to get the praise of someone who had long run his own business. "I've always wanted to go to Italy, but I never got that far. What brought you here?"

"Spoken like a true New Yorker," he replied, trying his best to imitate the accent, as well. Something that he should have had down pat, after spending a few years there, himself. But he had spent much more time in Maine, was almost disappointing to find the accent a reach to achieve. "I can imagine it's a little bit of culture shock, though. Iran and Paris -- and then here to Merrock, you've really seen a lot," he smiled at the thought. "Can't say I've visited Iran, but Paris is gorgeous. One of those cities worth seeing just to say that you did, right?" He leaned back on his arms where he had settled onto his towel and let out a low laugh, "oh yes, we have quite a few bars, but your business is truly unique. And truth be told, I think sometimes people go to bars just because they're traditional meeting, social areas. Offer them something else, and why not take it?" He knew that it would happily be a place for him to visit with clients. "I was born in Italy, actually. Moved to New York City for law school, practiced for a few years before I made the move here."

Leyla has happy to see more and more people discover Mawk Tales and start to come in when they were in the mood for a mocktail, but she still had to keep working. The momentum of the new(er) wouldn't last forever. It was up to her to make it into something. "Also delicious," she said, pausing as she noticed him continue to look over the menu. "We have a flight option too if you want to try a few. It comes with any four you want."

Alec was on his way back home from work when he decided to drop in by Mawk Tales for a bit. While Anchors Away was his usual hang out, mocktails were probably the better option at the moment. "Uhh.. let me do the sparkling blackberry lemonade," his eyes stayed glued to the menu as he spoke, double checking the options to make sure that was what he wanted. His attention finally turned back to Leyla once he was sure. "I'll try the strawberry basil one too."

#sleeping beauty