LIONHEARTED

Emira Temel is a Bradford Springs native who has just returned after being “let go” (see: very much fired) from her job at a prominent newspaper in New York. She is the older sister of Yasemin and is fiercely protective of her. When she’s not freelancing, she’s producing true crime podcast episodes, going for a swim to let off some steam or walking her Bernese Mountain Dog, Atlas.  She’s intrepid but rash, tenacious (she'd say) and stubborn (most everyone else would say), a bit mercurial but empathetic and passionate when it counts. She’s been back in town since summer 2022 and is still getting her bearings. It’s been a while since she’s been in Bradford Springs but loves being near her family again.

Naomi gently pats at her hair as Emira spilled the compliments, a little smug but playful smile tugged on her lips at the same time. “I wish these catch ups were a little more often if this is how you’re gonna keep starting them.” she laughed before sighing. “You’re only as old as you feel, I guess that’s what keeps me going.” she was a firm believer in it, and obviously the privileges she’s had in life certainly helped. “I think I will, maybe ambrosia will have a touch of Omi next time we come. Ambromia.” she winked as she bobbled her head back and forth knowing the joke would probably bring out some kind of smirk from her daughter.

“Oh I know, and you handled big old New York all by yourself so I don’t doubt it but what else am I gonna do with my time? You might have a kid of your own one day and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not worry worry, it’s just a constant, I hope they doing good.” she smiled but she could see Emira had all of the head strong attitude she was raised around. In fact, both the Temel girls embodied it and that was exactly why Naomi knew they’d always be okay. “I’ll make a little sign like Emira Made Us Do It.” she laughed before humming about Yas. “I’m happy too even if I’d prefer it if she didn’t like someone who broke windows but hey, everyone deserves their movie moment, I guess? I bet she was unhappy about having to stop streaming.” she laughed knowing her daughter’s routine well, since it hadn’t changed for years. “Good luck to him, in fact, good luck to anyone who can deal with the two of you. Especially together.”

•

Emira grins at her mom, “don’t get used to it, Omi,” she teases and takes a sip of her coffee. “But if that’s the case, I’ve been feeling a hundred and need to work on that,” she admits to her mom with a light smile. She hasn’t slept well the past few weeks but restlessness comes with the over-thinking territory and that is something Emira’s always excelled in. Analyzing and criticizing her own decisions in the wee hours of the morning. “But today I feel my age,” she winks at her mom and nods at the idea, a snicker escaping at the name. “I think they’d have twice the customers. They could even name a drink in your honor,” she laughs.

“Well, I am doing good, mama, promise,” she lies though it doesn’t feel like a lie because she wants it to be true and isn’t that half the battle? Emira can picture the sign clearly in her head and gives a nod of approval before her smile dims slightly and she sighs. “I know Yas can take care of herself. I just don’t want her to feel like...I don’t know. Like he’s special just because he’s had a hard life?” She sets her coffee down. “Does that sound horrible? She’s just so good, you know? And if she likes him because of him, cool but if she likes him because she thinks he needs someone to care about him...I just don’t want her to feel like she has to be that person if she doesn’t want to be?” she voices her concern to her mom, working through it aloud. She doesn’t dislike Ruben actually...she just wants to make sure Yas doesn’t get hurt. “But I think she thinks I don’t like him because I’m judging him.” She is, a bit, but deep down, she knows she has no ground to stand on in that department. 

“I promise it would be a good episode, mom,” Emira insists as she walks beside Marika. “I could even have you vet the questions ahead of time and I never let anyone do that.” She grins at her mom and waggles a brow, trying to convince her to come on her podcast for an episode on the mysteries of space. “And you can add some actual scientific content when we talk about different sightings and things like that.” She hasn’t asked before but a few listeners had sent in about UFOs and she thought maybe her mom would be the perfect guest for an episode like that. “I had mama on to talk about mysterious haunted buildings in the south, remember? It’ll be fun. I promise.” And it’d be a good distraction for Emira who’s thrown herself head first into her work the past week or so. @marikaxtemel​

“I know, but Lockwood Springs,” Jo playfully wrinkles her nose in distaste, following after Emira to wait for her own order. There was a reason why she was so desperate to run away from this place, as soon as she could, as fast and as far as she could. But standing in a coffee shop with her friend, it gives the faintest feeling of old times when they were both still relatively green and hopeful journalists ready to take on New York. It’s funny how quickly things can change. “Who would’ve thought we both would end up back here? I sure as hell didn’t,” Josephine pulls her purse higher up on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I would take expensive coffee and ridiculously high rent any day,” She says, and she means it wholeheartedly.

•

Emira doesn’t blame Josephine for her feelings towards Lockwood. If she’d come home under the same circumstances, she’d have felt the same. If every day waking up meant remember she’d left her favorite city because her husband had died...well, she’d probably look down on Lockwood with disdain too. Instead, Emira had found refuge in her home city, in her family. And it was a painful reminder sometimes that she hadn’t made it but being in a city that rejected her left and right hadn’t been a better option. “Well, I’m sure if you wanted to put that money in a tip jar, they wouldn’t complain,” she suggests before laughing slightly. Emira shrugs, “I didn’t either but, for what it’s worth, I’m glad to see you again, Jo. Apparently I talk too fast now.” She’d had to get a word in edgewise back at the Times, or risk getting ignored or walked all over. Turns out it hadn’t mattered in the end but still. Old habits die hard. 

Yasemin quietly huffs, not particularly at her sister but more the topic. One thing about how her mind worked was pointing out injustices, or unfairness so Yas’ hand moved to her hip. “I am, and so are you which is why I’m not that mean about Danny.” she shrugged because she wasn’t welcoming either. Maybe Emira and Yas really were cut from the same cloth, even though she hated that phrase because why would anybody cut a cloth? “He’s quiet.” Yas then mentioned before she laughed, because she wasn’t used to being more energetic than somebody before. “Which is odd, I think he’s insecure. Which is also odd because doesn’t society say men who look like him are meant to be…what others want to be? Or something stupid like that. And his brother sounds awful, so I feel bad for him. I don’t think he knows what it’s like to have someone who cares.” Yas shrugged but she didn’t only like Ruben out of pity. She did as she was silently told to move to her seat and begin eating but she also didn’t believe Emira for one second. “I’ve never eaten those snacks, there’s only been one person who eats those snacks and it’s not any of us. Or Atlas. And I don’t even know Ruben’s favorite snacks yet. Oh wait no. He likes fruit loops at 9pm.”

•

Emira sighs, lifting her hands. “What would you like me to say? I don’t know him, Yas. And you’ve actually known Danny for years.” Even if they hadn’t been together, Yas would still know him. She listens to her sister talk, pulling apart some bread and dipping it into a yolk. Everything Yas is saying makes sense but Emira can’t help but feel protective over her. For so long she’d been her sister’s fiercest defender and now Yas was living her own life and making her own choices and it was hard to shake the role. “i just don’t want you thinking you’re going to...I don’t know, be the magical missing piece of his life.” She chews the inside of her cheek, hearing how it sounded and glances up at Yas, shaking her head. 

“Sorry, I didn’t say that well. I just want you to remember what mama says. It’s not our job to fix people or change them.” And even if you want someone to change, they won’t. But she doesn’t say this and instead sighs at Yas’ insistence. It’s a very Temel trait not to let something go, so she can’t fault her sister’s curiosity. “We’re not doing that anymore.” That being whatever it was she and Danny had been doing. “He’s got a life and I’ve got mine and that’s it.” She shrugs, as though it’s nothing. As though she doesn’t feel a strange lump in her throat she continues to push down every time she thinks of it. She’d known what it was when they’d started sleeping together again, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t hoped. Even if she’d never admit as much to herself. Even as the weeks turned into months. It wasn’t anything anyway. “Fruit loops are a good choice,” she comments after a beat, “cinnamon toast crunch is better but...fruit loops aren’t bad.” As close to any approving comment as she’d get right now. 

“Hmm, how can I say I want pickles dipped in Nutella without sounding gross?” Bella laughed, walking a lot slower than she used to be able to but getting out of her apartment was vital and she’d never pass spending time with Emira. She tried her best to not make an obvious scrunch of her nose at some of the suggestions before she couldn’t help the quick bleh at the sound of sushi and even veggie sushi. “Do you think DJ would whip up some sweet potatoes or something? Is that even on the menu at the diner?” Bella thought out loud but then wondered if she was being too choosy. “Actually, ramen is great.” she nodded, her final decision for now. “Aww, really? Even though I definitely missed Whitney’s high note the last few times?” Bella touched her chest as she laughed. “Hey maybe we should practice a duet and routine and not tell them, then surprise them with it.”

•

Emira makes a face, “I’m not sure you can but...I support your decisions? Maybe it’s like you can’t go wrong with two perfect ingredients? And what’s better than either of those.” she shrugs, letting Atlas bound ahead to the upper limits of his leash while they discussed lunch. “I don’t know if it’s on the menu but you can probably ask. Half of what you get is from a potato.” She doesn’t question her friend’s cravings and scratches her mind to see if there’s any other food options before Bella finally settles on Ramen and Emira narrows her eyes. “You sure you don’t want potatoes?”  She doesn’t want her changing her mind because someone asked. “You know my moms love you, off-key notes and all. Let me know what days work for you both and I’ll ask Omi.”

“I know I should feel ripped off,” Emira says with a laugh as she tucks away her wallet after paying $4.23 for her coffee, “but I was getting close to six, seven dollars back in the city,” she admits,  moving to the pick-up counter. “I don’t miss that part of New York living.” By comparison, Lockwood was like living in the lap of luxury but on a journalist’s (ex-journalist’s) salary. @josephine-atkinson​​

Some things are just too hard to shake. Their easy laughter remains, as it always does, mingled with breathless sighs and needy touches. The way his hands move over the soft curves of her body electrifies Emira and any doubts or second-guesses vanish as everything is tinged with a lust-filled haze. She can forget herself when she’s with him, forget who she’s trying to be and simply exist in the wave of want he stirs up in her. “Because if you’re talking, you’re not –” she gasps softly, back arching slightly as his teeth tug at her nipple and a rush of liquid heat shoots straight to her core, “doing that,” Emira breathes, finishing her thought as he rises to meet her lips again. 

Heat pools in the pit of her stomach and her toes curl at the way his touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Desire overtakes logic, head clouded with nothing but thoughts of him and the hunger between them. Her breath hitches at the small sound emanating from him and she nips at his lips, the taste of movie theater popcorn mixed with cigarettes filling her senses. It easy to get lost in the moment, fingers curled at the nape of his neck and she only pulls away when he says she’s distracted. Hazel eyes narrow at him and she scrunches her nose in protest. “Can you just shut up?” Any eloquent comeback or smart-ass remark will have to wait when she’s not caught up in the haze of want he casts over her. There’s only one thing on her mind and it’s not cartoons. When he shifts them so she’s flush against him, Emira shivers, the hard planes of his torso pressed against the soft skin of her own. She shakes her head that, no, she’s not his and he’s not hers either, even if in this moment it feels like they belong to each other, like she could be his like she’d been years ago. “I said you’re an idiot. Get your ears checked,” she bluffs, lips pressed hard to his before trailing them along his jaw. She scrapes her teeth along his skin, the sharp bite of incisors tugging at his earlobe as he manages to carry them to her room.  Somewhere in the distance, she hears the door shut and an indignant huff from Atlas on the other side of it.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you have to.” Omi gave a playful laugh, getting comfortable right in the corner of the couch so she could angle herself to Emira. “That,” Naomi raised a finger to signal her point after he daughter spoke. “Is a good idea, my sweet. In fact, I could probably help them re-arrange all of this to get the optimal space.” she said, glancing around at the tables. The cogs were certainly turning and now Emira had possibly sealed their fate at this coffee shop, with Naomi asking who she needed to speak to before they could leave. “No, no. Of course not, but a little you time is always good. Helps with creative flow, too.” She wasn’t going to tell Emira how to structure her life but…it was hard to care and not seem overbearing. A difficult thing for any parent to balance. “It’s all going good, though?” she asked, eager to know her daughter was living life in a way that served her. Naomi let out another bright laugh, readjusting the end of her blouse as she considered it. “Maybe twenty years ago, but we’ll have to watch it to be sure. Who knows, you might see us both on T.V. Little Yas is okay? After the whole…stone?” Omi could barely keep a straight face, but it was hilarious.

•

“I’m really not,” Emira grins, “your energy says forty-five tops,” she adds good-naturedly. “Besides, even if you were old, which you’re not, you don’t dress like it.” Her mom is one of the most fashionable people Emira knows. While her own wardrobe leans monochromatic, she learned how to experiment with clothes from Omi. “You definitely could. I say go for it. Maybe grab a business card when we leave.” She admires a lot about her mom but her tenacity and forceful spirit are some of the things she tries to emulate most. 

“Rookie mistake.” she teased Emira with a wide grin and a chuckle, taking a few sips of her own smoothie. Yas wasn’t the best at reading awkward silences, or when people were pausing to think but she knew her sister well. Emira liked to keep her opinions to herself, mostly, especially if she thought they might upset her sister. So, Yas took an elongated sigh. “He’s not a bad person.” she said, not a mind-reader but a pattern noticer. “He’s worked at the post office for a while now, so I know him for more than just..four dates.” Yas shrugged, as if that would make it any better. She ended up laughing though at Emira’s coyness, pointing to the snacks as if the answer was right there. “Well, Owl Temel.” she started with a grin. “There’s finally no beef jerky or twizzlers here.” Not that she had been praying for the downfall of whatever Danny and Emira…weren’t. But she definitely disliked him. Which proved that stubbornness and hypocrisy ran in the family.

•

Emira sticks out her tongue at her sister, a warm smile following as she finishes up the dish. Turning off the stove, she reached up to grab some plates and listens as Yasemin explains about Ruben. “I didn’t say anything, Yas,” she holds up her hands, shrugging, “you’re an adult.” Even though she feels incredibly protective over her sister, she’s never tried to suffocate her. She’s proud of Yas for making her own way in the world, of course she is, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t worry or have thoughts, or wouldn’t be there to comfort her if things went sideways. “I’m sure he’s fine. We haven’t really talked.” Though she doubts talking will win her over. She doesn’t dislike Ruben. She doesn’t know him. She just thinks her sister can do better than a guy who throws rocks through windows. Rolling her eyes at the moniker, she plates up for the both of them, bringing them to the kitchen table. “They’re not exactly healthy snacks. I’m swimming more now that it’s getting warmer.” she explains, as though that’s the only reason. “If you want them, though, I’ll be sure to grab some next time.” Emira offers casually, gesturing at her sister to take a seat and dig in. 

Emira’s retort is cut off by a hard kiss that she melts into easily, frustratingly so. She feels too pliable in his arms and she fights the feeling of being soft, hot breaths mingling as she kisses him back with just as much ferocity. Hunger and desire go hand in hand and Emira has always hated that he knows how much she desires his touch, the type of unsatisfied longing that means her body reacts of its own accord when he presses his hips down into hers. Her own rock in response as she seeks the friction from his jeans against the soft material of her own. When he pulls away, her brows narrow in protest, eyes alight with want as he looks down at her with his own hazy blue-eyed gaze. Distracted by his warm hands beneath her shirt, Emira nods haphazardly, “fine,” comes her breathless response, arching slightly into his touch as goosebumps form where he’s dragging his fingers, “lets just,” her own hands drift beneath the hem of his moms against vaping t-shirt and over his abs, “watch reruns.” As if it’s an actual option they’ll go for. 

Greeting her sister with a big smile, Yas rubbed her hands together as she got to the kitchen. “Urgh yes please, it smells so good.” she sniffed the air and then sat up onto the counter to grab the smoothie. Yas smiled immediately, feeling that the coldness had settled and she looked at Emira. “Thank you.” she said, more than just a thanks for the smoothie itself. From the counter she could see the hole in the window which Omi had covered with protective sheeting until it could get fixed and Yas started laughing. “No, no, çilbir is perfect.” she replied before gesturing her head to the window. “He could’ve waited until it was warmer so we had free AC.” she uttered, jumping down from the counter with excitement to take a look at all the snacks. She quickly put them all in order from the unhealthiest to the healthiest, lining them up. “You’re the best.” she grinned, before noticing the lack of snacks Emira would usually get if Danny was staying over. Curious. “Is he busy?” she blurted out but she didn’t know a universe in which Danny Anderson could have something important to do. 

•

Emira nods, sorting some plates while things cooked on the stove. “You’re welcome. I got too excited and got brain freeze,” she laughs, indicating her half-drunk smoothie beside the fruit bowl on the counter. She’s always thinking of her sister, unable to shut off that part of her that cares too much, even if she does her best to play it off. The mention of the window tests this resolve as she presses her lips together, shrugging. “Well at least he’s paying to fix it. That’s something.” Even though they could’ve handled it just fine it annoys Emira. Mostly because she doesn’t think this guy is good enough for her sister but also because she knows she has no ground to stand on. Well...had. At least now she’s not being hypocritical in her judgement? So that’s a silver lining. As she returns her attention to the cilbir, Emira raises a brow, glancing back at Yas and the neat line of snacks. “Who?” Like she hasn’t only been seeing the same person the past few months, unofficially of course.