Pieces of a Life

The sun came through the windows of Leila’s room all too soon and seemed to be knocking on her skull. Hangovers were not something she was used to. She frowned, curled up in her big bed with lots of blankets, hating herself for not closing the window shades last night. Now that she’d woken up, she wouldn’t fall back to sleep. Well, first things first. She took some Advil, showered and got dressed in a new dress she’d bought in just the prettiest shade of lavender, and picked up her phone.

“Walker and Reid, may I help you?” The voice greeted. Leila tried not to sound like she’d just woken up at 12:30 in the afternoon.

“This is Leila Willows, I need to speak with Mr. Reid.” She closed her eyes lazily and held her head in her hand. The lawyer picked up on the other end and Leila said, “Mr. Reid, I’m calling about my father’s will. It…I think we should do that today. Five PM.” She was very matter-of-fact. She knew she was right and should take care of it before she chickened out. She hung up the phone, sighed heavily, and rubbed her face. Five PM would not be an easy time for her.

Evelyn called her when she was staring at her breakfast and not eating it. Before Leila even spoke into the phone, Evelyn said, “You kissed him?”

Leila closed her eyes and held her forehead with her hand again, wading through foggy memories. “Who, Jack? I think it’s safer to say he kissed me, and—”

“No, idiot,” Evelyn snapped, interrupting. Leila made a face even though Evelyn couldn’t see it. “Alex. You kissed Alex.”

Oh, the weight of those three words. Leila blinked. Oh. That. “Oh, yeah, I…I sure did.” She squeaked. Evelyn squealed into the phone.

“Oh my God, you did! You kissed the fuck out of him!”

“I—I don’t know about that, Ev—” But Evelyn wasn’t listening. Leila felt a little embarrassed.

“Oh, Leila, it’s about time! You guys—” Leila tried to interrupt but Evelyn talked over her. “Oh, don’t you dare fucking leave again,” She said darkly. Leila’s lips formed a tight line and she exhaled a short breath. “Not now, Leila. It’d kill him, it would absolutely kill him. He’s crazy about you!” Leila felt herself blush. She pushed her lonely egg around on her plate. “And I know you, Leila; you’re absolutely lovesick over him. Don’t you fucking leave, don’t you dare.”

She didn’t fully reply to what Evelyn had said. “So, I’m finally dividing my dad’s estate today,” She told her instead. “And I’m stopping by my old studio because they want me to do some like, private performance or something.” She successfully avoided further uncomfortable discussion with Evelyn and eventually hung up the phone. She finished her egg and the half of a pink grapefruit that was her breakfast and left for the studio.

She hadn’t wanted to admit to Evelyn—or anyone, for that matter—that she was considering leaving again. But they knew her well enough that she didn’t have to admit it aloud. They just knew. Leila was thinking of leaving, it was true. How could she possibly stay in Baltimore? Her whole life was in San Francisco. Well, some of it anyway. That was the problem; she was divided. She was torn in pieces and didn’t know where to go: the life she had in California or the life she had in Maryland. Her choice was so unclear it was eating her alive. And when she had troubles like this, her instinct was to leave. But if she did that again, it’d be even worse than the first time.

Leila parked her beloved Aston Martin outside the dance studio and put on her snob act, strutting inside with an air of confidence. She didn’t look at the wall dedicated to her life because it would throw her off. She’d driven the Aston specifically to get in character, because ordinarily she would’ve called a cab. But the car was luxurious and wonderful, and they’d see that car and know who was there. Leila kept up her runway strut into the office.

The secretary gaped at her when she walked in. “I’m supposed to be giving a special private performance,” Leila said. “I just need to set it up according to my schedule.” She was such a bullshitter. As if she had a schedule.

The young woman fumbled around for a memo pad and pen, stammering, “Oh, yes, of course.” She looked at the large desk calendar. “I—uhm—day after tomorrow at three, Miss—Miss Willows?”

“Perfect.” Leila answered airily. She knew she could’ve managed all that with a phone call, but she liked to make her own fun sometimes. She stopped in on another ballet class before she left.

It was an older group, most likely a pointe technique class from what Leila had briefly observed. The dark girl from Evelyn’s house was helping to teach and waved at her cheerfully. Leila smiled.

“I’m sure everyone here knows who she is,” The girl said. There were a few nods as the class sized up Leila. “Well, lucky us, she’s going to be giving us a little private performance seminar.”

“Day after tomorrow at three,” Leila said. “I guess at the Performing Arts Center.” Nearly all of Leila’s past recitals had been at that theater. It would be surreal to be dancing there again.

“I’ll be sure to spread the word.” The dark girl replied with a happy smile. Leila left the studio and got into her car.

She hesitated, hands hovering over the wheel, then dropped her hands to her lap with an exhaled breath. There were not many things Leila had been certain of in her life, she thought as she rested her chin on the steering wheel. She had been certain, when she was little, that she’d see her mother again. Well, that hadn’t been the case. She’d been sure that her dad would always be there to take care of her then, because she had been so fragile. She’d been proven wrong on that, as well. Even when she was younger, he was hardly around because he worked so much. But one thing she had was dancing; she was talented and she knew it, and she knew the world would unfold for her if she worked for it. She had gotten that right so far. And now she had to question it, and she hated it. She had lived her entire life without a constant thing to rely on. It was no wonder she was such a mess.

Leila drove home more recklessly than her usual driving, because she was frustrated and had no idea what to do about it. Where was she supposed to go from here? It irked her that Vanessa had been almost right: she couldn’t figure out what she wanted, and knew she couldn’t have everything. Sitting in her driveway, she called Evelyn again. When her best friend didn’t pick up, Leila got even more annoyed. She called Alex. He didn’t answer either, and Leila threw her door open and slammed it shut.

Her frustrations were released in the expanses of her kitchen. She didn’t cook, though, or bake her stress away in the form of a cake. Instead she grabbed a bottle of Grey Goose and turned on the sound system, blaring out rap. And she hopped up on the counter and sat, scowling and pouring herself drinks while muttering along to the words rhythmically pulsing from the speakers. It was only a few minutes before she got impatient again, and left the bottle on the counter and the speakers still blaring to go take off her dress, which suddenly seemed all wrong.

Alex found her on her kitchen counter, wearing only an old stupid red sweatshirt with a giant wolf’s head on it and a rather scandalous pair of black lace underwear, focusing on a bottle of Grey Goose she was pouring into a tall glass full of some unidentifiable juice mix. She hadn’t heard him come in and so when he sputtered out a laugh she started, head shooting up.

“Oh,” She mumbled over what he was sure to be Three Six Mafia pounding out of her expensive sound system. “You scared me.” And she went back to pouring herself a drink.

“Starting early, are we?” He joked, walking over to help her mix the drink. “I guess it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Her head jerked up again. “Five o’clock,” She groaned. “What time is it?” Alex frowned and pointed at her clock, reading out the time to be 3:34. She huffed.

“You’re grumpy today, princess.” He teased. She shrugged entirely too dramatically. “Come on, what’s bothering you? You’re not usually one to drink in your underwear at three in the afternoon.”

Leila sighed heavily and looked at her lap, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She looked thoughtfully at the drink she had mixed and huffed again, pushing it away and curling up on herself atop the counter. Alex raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I called the lawyers. They’re dividing the estate today at five.” She grumbled, directed more to her lap than to him. “I—” Leila looked up at Alex desperately. “I—I don’t know, Alex, I just…I just don’t know where to go from here.” She said slowly. She was frustrated, upset, and stressed, and the combination began to bring tears to her eyes. She pursed her lips. She was so sick of crying.

Alex’s look softened and he leaned on the counter, smiling gently as Leila scowled deliberately at her hands. “You never really do know that to do with yourself when things get hard, Leila.” He told her carefully. It was probably one of the truest statements he’d ever made to her, and the way her scowl contorted more told him that she knew it too.

“And I…” Her voice got whiny and she hated it. She scrunched her nose in frustration. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything, Alex! Everything’s just a mess. I’m questioning everything I thought was set in stone and it scares me.” Leila raised her big blue eyes to plead with Alex, and he was useless when she turned her eyes on him.

It took him a minute to realize what she’d said, because she was staring miserably with her big diamond eyes and all he could think about when she looked at him like that was how her lips had felt like velvet. But what had she said? I’m questioning everything I thought was set in stone and it scares me. Alex frowned and blinked. “What…what do you mean?”

Leila balled up her hands into fists and frowned forcefully at her bare legs. “I! Don’t! Know!” She squealed. Alex leaned back, putting his hands up in surrender. “I just…ugh!” She puffed an angry breath and pouted, frowning and looking past Alex, smacking loose strands of hair out of her face in annoyance. She couldn’t find the right words. What was she supposed to say to him? How could she make him understand what she was feeling? Hell, she didn’t even understand what she was feeling.

“Leila,” Alex murmured after watching her have a little internal temper-tantrum. “Leila, come on, look at me.” He waited until she turned her face to him to continue speaking, and he scooped her delicate hands into his. It was a little funny to him how different they were even just in their hands: her long fingers and fair, smooth skin, lovely little beauty queen hands held in his bigger ones, tattoos and calluses from playing the guitar. He squeezed her hands and smiled at her. “Lei, you’re forgetting that you’re my best friend. You always have been and you always will be. Just say what you need to say, babe.”

Leila rolled her lips together and sighed, clutching Alex’s fingers like a baby. He was right, though. If there was anyone in the world who would just listen—not tell her what to do, not judge her, not scold her—it would be Alex. She loved Evelyn and she was Leila’s best friend, but Evelyn was like an overbearing sibling: when something went wrong in Leila’s life, Ev was forceful about fixing it. Leila didn’t always need someone to fix her. Sometimes she just wanted to say everything on her mind for the sake of getting it all out. She held onto Alex’s hands and pulled them into her lap anxiously.

“Okay,” She said quietly. “You’re right. I guess I…I’m scared. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do, because I always made these choices and these plans and they never worked out. The only thing that ever worked out for me was San Francisco, and it ripped my heart out doing it,” Leila knitted her eyebrows together and swallowed hard before looking back to Alex, his face attentive and calm. When she spoke she tried to gesture with her hands, and mostly ended up jerking around their still entwined fingers. But she certainly wasn’t going to let go.

“And…and I came back here and I was scared of it because I knew it’d present me with all the things I—all the things I fucked up by leaving,” Her voice broke and she drew in a shaky breath, rubbing her cheek anxiously. “But I knew I had to come back, for some reason, and maybe it’s because part of me knew all along I shouldn’t have left, but—but—but I don’t know what to do then because that’s the only thing that’s ever worked for me, and what am I supposed to do when that’s gone too? I have to make the same choice all over again and I’m scared I’ll do it wrong and I—I just—I don’t—”

She had started crying and talking a mile a minute. Alex put his arms around her and pulled her into him, holding her tight while she shook against his chest and clutched his torso with needy hands. He murmured reassuring nonsense to her, rubbing her back gently and resting his chin on top of her head. Leila cried it all out, warm tears wetting her eyes and face and most certainly Alex’s shirt. She just kept thinking over and over that she’d have to make this choice, she had this ultimatum the same she had years ago, and she was more scared now. People always ask what you would do if you could do it all over, and it was like she had been given that chance. What was she supposed to do with it? Either way it would tear her in half again. Alex leaned back and brushed a falling tear off her cheek with his thumb, cradling her face and looking at her with those perpetually loving brown eyes of his, his lips making a smile just small enough for her to know it was there. She thought of what Evelyn had said on the phone earlier and she thought of everything about the night before and she looked at his beautiful face that she loved so much. And then, Leila didn’t think. She just grabbed his face, and kissed him frantically.

She shouldn’t have done it, and she knew that. He knew that too. But neither of them stopped, because—just like the night before—it was all they wanted at the time. Leila’s face was still wet from the tears that had only just stopped and she kissed like she had something to prove. She held onto Alex desperately, hands on his face, his shirt, his hips. No matter how much fire she had behind her lips he poured out more, wanting nothing more than her; her lips, her body, the sigh of her breath in his ear. She wrapped her slender legs around his hips tightly and put her arms around his neck, sure that he could hear the skittering of her pulse. But he was more occupied with the smooth muscles of her thighs and she didn’t stop him when his hand grazed up her leg, sliding up and stopping only when he hooked his fingers on the hem of her lace underwear. His other hand grabbed at her back, up underneath the sweatshirt she wore, rough fingers against smooth skin. Wherever her fingers went on his skin they left burning trails, tracing down his arms or across his ribs under his shirt. He pulled her sweatshirt off and tossed it aside, kissing down her neck and leaning her more against the countertop. When their lips connected again Leila’s fingers hovered indecisively at the buckle of his belt, a small war in her mind trying to decide whether she wanted to start something else entirely. He leaned her against the counter, hands sailing across her skin, and she breathed out a contented murmur as he grazed his fingertips along her hipbones. But, finally, she pulled away.

Alex looked at her, chest rising and falling visibly, the want in his expression making her a little uncomfortable now. He looked at her face curiously with his dark eyes, hands still wrapped around her hips. It was evident he hadn’t wanted to stop. Leila probably could’ve continued, honestly, but she pretended to be calm and cool, aiming her remote at the sound system and bringing a heavy silence onto the house. She picked her sweatshirt up and hopped off the counter, glancing at the clock and looking Alex up and down once.

“I have to go.” She told him. He frowned at her as she turned around, going to change into another dress.

“Leila!” He yelled, following her. She clutched her sweatshirt anxiously and looked down, walking through the depths of the massive house to retreat to her bedroom. “Leila, you can’t just do that. Come on. How—”

“Don’t follow me!” She squeaked, whirling around with one hand on the banister. Alex’s face darkened. Leila’s mouth turned down and she felt very vulnerable, standing in her bra and underwear in front of him on her staircase after nearly having sex on her counter. She was disappointed in herself, not because of what she’d done, but because more and more she was seeing that Vanessa was right. Leila had no control anymore. She was losing it all.

“Leila, I…I don’t know what you want from me.” Alex laughed humorlessly.

Leila rubbed her cheek, exhausted, and looked at the stairs beneath her feet to try and find courage there. Of course she didn’t, but she spoke anyway. “I…I don’t want anything,” She whispered. Finally, as bravely as she could manage, she looked up to meet his eyes. “I just,” She sighed. “I just want you, I guess.”

Alex stared at her, unable to comprehend what she’d just said. Leila hardly believed she’d said it either, but it was honest. She’d always needed him, but wanting him was different. Really, everything was different. Everything was different and she was losing her grip. So she might as well stop fighting it, because it was evident that was useless. No matter what way she pushed or pulled or shrank back, it was clear that this return to Baltimore was out of her hands. Sometimes no matter how carefully you plan your steps, things can change entirely. Sometimes, in order to find yourself, you have to lose yourself first.