Ch. 47 – Layla
T he sun beat down on Layla’s shoulders. The trail snaked ahead into the distance. Her legs felt heavy, her throat dry as the water pack sloshed on her back. A part of her must have known Cal couldn’t be trusted because she’d never canceled her ultra-marathon race entry, even when he’d insisted on resurrecting their wedding on its original date.
Layla glanced down at her watch and winced. Fifteen miles complete, which meant 10 more to finish her 25-mile training run. She wouldn’t be walking down the aisle in two weeks. Instead, she’d be lining up at the start of a 50k race.
Today was her longest run before she’d begin tapering. The Crazy Cat Ladies had long ago completed their training run and driven off for congratulatory brunch and mimosas.
That left Layla alone with the trail and her thoughts.
Without really making a decision, she slowed to a walk.
Three days ago, she’d walked out on Cal, defiant and changed. She’d broken out of her chrysalis, a new and improved Layla butterfly.
Except the real world didn’t work that way. The grief and anguish came in waves, battering her delicate new butterfly wings. All the pain and heartache should have been easier this second go around, but it wasn’t. One minute she felt strong, invincible. Exultant, even. The next, she’d huddle under the blankets in bed and weep.
Layla took a long sip of water from the tube attached to her water pack and wondered, did butterflies ever miss being caterpillars? Did they long for those simpler days on the ground?
A loud, insistent call broke through the calm of the morning. Layla followed the sound and spotted him. A regal bluejay perched on a branch in the distance, proud and gorgeous in his topaz plumage. Normally, the sight would thrill Layla. But today, she only felt empty, the scene acid washed. Her braid swung with her steps, a heavy rope.
Ten years with Cal, she thought. All gone.
Hadn’t she secretly known his true nature from the beginning? But she’d so desperately wanted a prince charming to rescue her from her childhood poverty. Cal had offered comfort and security. He’d draped her in praise and jewelry. And she’d done the rest, weaving a romantic fantasy around them like a shroud. She’d ignored all the times he’d gone off script.
I was scared, Caterpillar Layla thought. I was scared to be alone. To trust myself.
The bluejay launched from the branch, spreading his bright wings as he soared through the sky.
I pretended everything was always okay. That was my superpower.
But nothing was okay now. What happened when even Layla Sandoval couldn’t find the good in a situation? When she didn’t want to?
The answer was easy. She broke.
Caterpillar Layla pulled her braid over her shoulder and clutched it like it could save her from drowning in her own doubts.
No.
The voice was strong. Ardent. Layla looked around, half-expecting Alanna to be just behind her.
No, the voice said again.
Where was it coming from? Layla looked to the sky where the bluejay had disappeared into the branches.
You are not broken. You are not weak.
Layla recognized the voice, and it shocked her. The voice was her own. It was happening again. The caterpillar was fading, the butterfly re-emerging.
Pretending is not your superpower, Butterfly Layla told her. Loving with your whole heart is your superpower. That’s a strength. Not a weakness.
Layla looked down at the thick golden rope in her hands. Rapunzel. She frowned as Cal’s pet name echoed in her mind. She’d never told him so, but Layla wasn’t a fan of that particular fairytale. She’d never liked the idea of a princess trapped in a castle waiting for a rescue. Plus, how could a grown man climb a woman’s hair, anyway? Poor Rapunzel would need a standing daily appointment with a chiropractor for the rest of her life.
Slowly, Layla straightened her fingers and let the braid drop from her grip. She’d enjoyed Tangled, the Disney remake of the classic fairytale where the princess escaped the tower on her own after discovering her inner strength. In the story, Rapunzel was an exuberant optimist, a healer…and an utter badass with a frying pan. That’s the kind of princess Layla wanted to be. Her legs began moving, switching to a steady jog.
A smile twitched on her lips. Cal would be just the sort of prince to climb a woman’s hair and give her a lifelong neck kink rather than find his own way into the tower.
Prem
His name filled her belly with snapping, electric unicorn sparkles. Prem was different. He would stand on the ground, hands on hips, and say, “You know the way down.”
Prem had always believed in her. Trusted in her strength even when she didn’t. He hadn’t rescued her from a tower but from her self-doubt. He’d never diminished her work, her opinions, or her ideas as Cal so often had. Prem listened. He valued her. His compliments weren’t only about her looks.
She remembered all those beautiful, glorious mornings waking up next to him in her mother’s guest bedroom. How they’d just smile at each other, never needing to speak out loud.
You are not weak, Butterfly Layla told herself. You are good at your job. No, you’re great at your job! You are a good daughter. A good sister. A good lover.
Layla gasped and giggled even as her feet continued to propel her forward. But it was true! She’d made Prem beg for mercy on more than one occasion. With him in her arms, she turned into an absolute minx.
Layla smiled. A real smile. I am strong, she repeated to herself. And, for the first time in her entire life, Layla believed those words. I am strong and I DESERVE to be happy!
The next miles melted beneath her trail shoes. Her knees ached. Her quads quivered, but nothing could stop her. It seemed as if, in just moments, she turned down a familiar bend and stumbled into the parking lot.
Smiling widely, she put a hand on the trailhead sign and sagged to her knees.
I can do this, she thought to herself. I really can run a 50k.
She laughed. If anyone had been in the parking lot, they probably would have thought she was a loon. Didn’t matter.
“I’m a butterfly!” she said out loud, cracking into more giggles. “And I have to tell Prem how I feel!”
But first, she had to do something very important. Something that had been a long time coming.
*
Three hours later, freshly washed and changed, Layla marched into an adorable little salon on Old Ranch Road called The Mane Event .
A round woman with bright red hair, matching lipstick, and an arm sleeved in colorful tattoos looked up from sweeping around her salon chair.
“Layla?” she asked and gave her a warm smile. “You’re right on time.”
Layla suddenly felt shy. Her confident strides turned into small, mincing steps as she approached the chair.
“I’m Samantha,” the woman said, “but everyone calls me Sam. Have a seat.”
Layla hesitated. All at once, her confidence bottomed out. She grabbed at her free-flowing hair, pulling a chunk of it over her shoulder. She hung on, closing her eyes.
You’re a butterfly, she told herself. You can do this.
Layla let out a breath, opened her eyes, and released her hair.
She sat down in the chair.
Sam draped an apron around Layla’s body and snapped it around her neck. “So, Honey, what are we doing with all this gorgeous hair?”
Layla stared in the mirror at the locks of hair cascading over her shoulders. “Do you donate hair?” she asked.
Sam nodded. “We donate to a charity called Locks of Love. They use human hair to make wigs for cancer patients. The minimum requirement is 12 inches of hair. Want to make a donation?”
In the mirror, Layla watched her reflection smile.