Layla
Fifteen months have passed. Fifteen months filled with sad, strange, and transformative times. Returning back to New York City was not an easy start. I said goodbye to a life I had created for myself. I said goodbye to my heart, my rainbow, my pink rose back in California and it nearly shattered me to bits. Stepping into my empty apartment in the city, I fell to the floor, weeping for hours until Grace took it upon herself to pay me a visit. She was scared out of her mind, begging for answers, holding me until I provided them. Until I felt safe enough to provide them. And as the summer came and went, I occupied my time with different creative outlets. I learned to broaden my interests in cooking and baking, wanting to single handedly try every spice and master every recipe.
I read practically every novel ever written, exploring new worlds and faraway times with magical lands. I continued to express myself through drawing and eventually painting sketches, exuding all the color and life I contained within my fingertips. I was even inspired enough to step into an actual recording studio, allowing myself to be vulnerable and just sing. I felt at ease, remembering the many beautiful times we'd simply go for a drive in his car with the top down, savoring the sunlight and the precious moment, listening to tunes that reminded us of each other.
And now I understand what he meant that one day in his car. He too reminds me of so many things. I see him in the occasional and blissful rainbow that casts across the big blue sky in the city. I see him in the spring when the flowers are powerful and freshly in bloom throughout the park. I see him in the chirping and ecstatic birds who wish to fly high with endless possibilities. He was a part of the best times in my life and the worst. But despite all this, I had to let him go. I had to be selfless with him. I couldn't keep him trapped as he should sparkle brightly and boldly for the entire world to see. Which is what I hope he's found. We haven't spoken since that awful February morning when we said our dreaded goodbyes. As remembering him in that state sometimes swallows me whole, drowning and depriving my body of vital air.
On the positive, my mother and I have mended our tricky relationship. She ended things with Drew, deciding to carry on and give birth to a lovely little girl whom I adore. At first, I resented her and her newly found happiness. I sometimes allowed the darkest of thoughts to wander into my mind, forcing me to think and question why it's possible for her now when it's never even an option for me. However, with the help of therapy and simply speaking what's roaming across my mind, I've transformed all my fears into opportunities for growth.
Even today, I find beauty on this hot summer day in New York City as my mother and I walk through Central Park. She pushes little Aurora in the carriage as Alfonzo follows behind, making humorous faces whenever I turn. We make joyful conversation, talking about everything and anything as we savor our lunch on a nearby bench. I hold the sleepy baby girl in my arms, kissing her cheeks as she fights a tempted smile. My mother watches me, unable to hold her own happiness inside as she speaks.
"When do you leave for France?"
"In two days. I won't be gone for long though. It's just a short work trip."
"Where are you going exactly?"
"Cannes. It's the annual film festival. I'll attend that, maybe write a little with Ben before production begins."
She nods, impressed with my motivated and accomplished goal of finally transforming and turning my thoughts and words into paper by transcribing them into my own directed motion picture. It wasn't easy at first. It took a lot of convincing for the world to see that I'm more than just a pretty face in front of the camera. Many rejections were brought across my path, but after acquiring the right team, we were finally able to bring the pieces together.
"Is Ben flying out with you?"
"No, he's already there with Xavier. They're on their honeymoon so after that's over, we'll meet up for some coffee one day."
"Sounds like fun." When I nod in return, she speaks quietly this time, knowing what's on my mind. "Your father would be very proud of you."
"Mom..."
"He adored you so much Layla. You were his little star. He was your biggest fan, even if he never admitted it."
The flight to France is an absolute rollercoaster of emotions as I try not to think of the last time I stepped foot on its heavenly sand. The media once we follow the exit doors is in quite the frenzy, wanting to greedily welcome all the stars that step out of the airport. They photograph picture after picture, blinding me by their lights as I'm still incredibly grateful for the support. Alfonzo shuts the car door behind him, cursing like a sailor, causing me to laugh.
"Careful there Alfonzo, your temper is starting to show. You need to keep the blood pressure down, remember?"
"Layla James, if you don't keep quiet..."
"You'll what?" He doesn't say anything at first, causing me to playfully roll my eyes in return. However, the second I begin to peel the small clementine that remained safely in my purse, he reaches for it, eating it all in one bite. "Hey!"
"Hey there," He taunts.
"I found that off the ground, you know. Hope it's tasty." He meets my challenging gaze quickly, looking over his shoulder to flick me off, turning with a kind wink as we both enjoy a much needed round of laughter.
Cannes. You're just as beautiful as I remember. You smell of pure love with your dazzling oceans and breathtaking scenery. You make my heart skip a beat as I walk throughout your lands, admiring the marble stoning on the ground. You've always been and always will be magical.
The first few days are quite tightly booked to the fullest as I'm surrounded by plenty, thrown into fittings and an array of press international interviews. A couple photo shoots for highly known magazines are also accompanied as little time is used for pleasure. But, prior to the film festival, Ben and I manage to sneak out for some coffee near our arranged hotel, desiring to explore the area and allow creativity to flow. I met Ben back in Rome nearly a year ago as he was introduced to me by a mutual friend of Mia's. She told me that he's brilliantly talented and has a way with words and film as he's a newly discovered writer. We met for lunch, clicking instantly as colleagues, talking about all the wonders that life has to offer. He's a bold man, loving freely and living without doubts. His partner Xavier decided not to join us this morning as the hour is too early for his taste.
We venture out with Alfonzo trudging along, complaining about the time and the weather. I promise to buy him a latte and any treats that he desires, hoping that will stop the many rants . The sun is out, beaming brightly, filling the sky with orange hues as it's just recently awoken. I'm incredibly excited, sporting a yellow summer dress filled with white flowers that remind me of a certain someone. White trainers, a modest bag, and some gold jewelry are all the accessories I need as I decide to play tourist, searching the streets for summertime adventure.
I remember the beginning of this day with a few photographs, accompanying Ben as he locates the infamous cafe he's been talking about ever since we met up this morning. Their espresso is undeniably delicious. It's practically an orgasm in a cup. I wonder if that's their slogan for sales, but I don't tease him for long. The roads are happily filled with people as they either walk, bike, or drive to their destination. I admire it all, enjoying this day, ravenous for endless possibilities. Ben steps inside the cafe as I place my camera in my bag, encouraging Alfonzo along as he groans about wanting to go back to sleep.
I pay him no attention, promising some caffeine and sugar to brighten his mood. However, as I reach for the door, I'm nearly on the ground the very instant I hastily slam into another. The sensation of iced coffee spilling down my neck and chest is alarming, yet that's the least of my worries. For the minute I glance up, I fear I've seen a true ghost as my favorite shade of green come to full view. He's speechless as well, not uttering a word as coffee stains his white shirt, trailing farther down, leaving a memorable mark. It can't be him. He can't be here. Has he missed Cannes as much as I have? Without thinking, I begin to apologize for the mess, hoping nobody was near to witness.
"I'm so, so sorry. I've ruined your shirt."
"No, I've ruined your dress." He hands me a wad of napkins from his pockets, flushing greatly in response. "Here, take these."
"No, you need them more."
"But I ran into you, so please take them."
"How about, I take them?" Alfonzo remarks, grabbing hold of the napkins in a hurry, walking inside the greatly air conditioned shop in a scurry.
We both fight a tempted smile at the current scene, trying to resist it all. I don't know what to say to him. Does he despise me for what I've done? I broke his heart. I broke both our hearts. I walked away from the very happiness we created. He looks just as incredible as I remember. Curls tossed gently and effortlessly. And despite the stained white shirt, he still looks flawless, sporting grey trousers with dimmed shades tucked into the collar of his shirt. A navy blue ascot with polka dots is loosely dangled around his neck as he grins nervously at me, causing my skin to blush. Even after all this time.
He's the one to break the ice, extending an unexpected hand, causing my brows to furrow. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Harry."
I'm curious as to where he's going with this, but the taunting smirk on his lips reminds me of his playful nature and charismatic character that I've greatly missed. And so, I accept, feeling the warmth of his touch as his hand laces with my own for a brief moment. I don't want to let go, but when I do, it's only because an irritated Ben dashes out the door as Alfonzo follows.
"An espresso is supposed to be bitter. It's just a shot of caffeine," he explains.
"But I wanted mine with milk and sugar," Alfonzo argues.
"Then that's not an espresso!" They stop their childish bickering, witnessing the awkwardness in the air between me and the man I still love with all my heart. But as soon as that smile appeared, it disappears when Ben speaks once more, causing miscommunication to be created. "Layla, darling, are you ready?" He asks, handing me a cup of coffee.
I accept, knowing what the man standing in front of me may think as the very name is what he sweetly called me. I want to hold him in my arms, tell him it's not what he thinks. But he isn't mine anymore. The smile on his face falters as he clears his throat, creating an unwanted farewell.
"It was good to see you," he stutters, choking on the very flushed words.
"At least, let me buy you another cup of coffee."
"No, it's okay. I prefer to wear my coffee, not drink it." He's embarrassed at such a joke as I smile, rendering a peachy blush to circulate onto his face. "Don't know why I just said that. I'll see you around, yeah?"
He's out of my line of vision quickly before I can fathom an explanation, wondering if it was all just a tranquil dream. The best kind of dream. Loving him was the best kind of dream and I'm so sorry that I ever woke up.
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