leslie mann

A wave always returns...

The sand felt like freedom between her toes. She wiggled in the grains, her head falling back as though she was basking in beams of relief. Leslie Mann had returned to the sea. The moonlight hit her softly. All she could hear were the waves crashing onto the shore. She used to hear them in her nightmares, louder and louder they grew until she was gurgling and screaming for help. The waves had crashed into her and taken her out to sea, unable to return. Leslie thrashed around in bed, her sheet drenched in sweat when she finally woke up. Even in bed, she realized, she couldn’t keep dry from the sea. 

What Leslie looked upon now wasn’t a violent ocean; it wasn’t coming for her, just towards her, asking for her to come back. Although she smiled, tears welled in her eyes in anticipation. One step forward, then she wiggled her toes. One step forward, then she stripped off her shirt. One step forward, then the water chilled her from her feet to her spine. Salt water dripped from her eyes, not made by the sea of the earth, but by the sea of her own body. She didn’t bother to wipe them away; soon enough she would be wet all over. 

Leslie continued to wade into the water until she was up to her shoulders in cold, salty aqua. She looked skyward to the moon. It was full just like the night Bridget had died. The light hit her skin, and when it reflected onto the black water, Leslie imagined it was Bridget looking back at her. You can do this, the smaller sister encouraged. Under now. Leslie couldn’t catch her breath--maybe in fear of drowning in a sick coincidence, maybe too caught up in her emotions. It didn’t matter... it was time. Leslie watched a wave clear Bridget’s reflection away. The moon was bright, and Leslie knew she was watching. Leslie knew that Bridget had been watching this whole time, waiting for her sister to come back. 

Not counting down, Leslie plunged down into the water. She swam out farther and farther until she couldn’t touch the sandy bottom below. She swam into nothingness. Under the gentle waves she was simple and free. Not an orphan, not a patient, not a heartbreaker. The water rolled over her skin. She could feel it seeping into her pores, returning home to a body dried out for far too long. Leslie let the water take her where it wanted. She floated to the top, trusting her home to keep her safe. And it did. Her belly button popped over the top of the waves, and when Leslie’s face joined the cold air above she gasped for breath. It felt like the first time her lungs had been filled since she’d laid flowers down at the funeral. She was crying now, her tears flowing from the corners of her eyes, down her face, and into the water. Slowing but surely, Leslie could replenish the sea. But not tonight. Tonight, she was born again.

She was Leslie Mann again: friend, sister, girlfriend. Leader, fighter, survivor.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Leslie stretched out her left hand as if to hold hands with someone floating beside her. It was Bridget. Leslie liked to pretend that Bridget’s spirit was the reason for her ability to pull through her darkest days, but Bridget’s spirit never actually visited her. All along, it was Leslie who helped herself. She was the one who dragged herself to work. She was the one who portioned out pills every week. She was the one who dropped the knife from her stomach. “Thank you,” she said again, but this time her right hand floated up to her chest, and Leslie squeezed her collar bone. This was all that was left of the Mann family: one girl floating in the ocean at dark. She’d been abandoned by a mother, ignored by a father, and left by a sister. But Leslie was still here. 

Leslie floated like this for a long time until her back once again felt the cool surface of the sand beneath her. For so many years Leslie was afraid to walk back into the ocean; she was sure she too would drown, but here she was, safe and sound on the line of the beach. Leslie looked toward her left, slightly disappointed that her sister was not actually there beside her. She choked back another set of tears, this time more melancholy than before. Leslie rolled over onto her side, her fingers digging into the wet sand. She was okay. 

When Leslie sat up, she didn’t feel the need to move any further. The water brushed up against her toes every so often, reminding her gently that it was still there, still able to set her free. When she looked up at the moon again, she saw a shadow approaching from behind. A familiar voice followed the familiar shape. “Les.” His tone sent chills down her spine, but the chills were... refreshing, like another wave. A different wave. 

♫ how do you soften the thought of carrying coffins ♫

Name: Leslie Bethany Mann Age: 26 Birthday: June 1st, 1988 Occupation: Waitress at Dough Boys Hometown: Richmond, Virginia, U.S.A. Education: Virginia Beach High School graduate, class of 2007

Zodiac: Gemini Myers-Briggs: ESFP (Extravert Sensing Feeling Perceiving)

(+) Independent, Benevolent, Daring, Hard-working, Adventurous, Vivacious, Self-sufficient (=) Curious, Competitive, Familial, Intense, Subjective, Uninhibited, Casual (-) Troublesome, Rebellious, Manic, Childish, Careless, Destructive, Distractible, Provocative

Family: Bridget Mann (sister)

Biography: Very little is known of Leslie’s parents. At the age of four, wearing a stolen Power Ranger’s t-shirt from Goodwill (long enough to be a dress) and mismatching flip flops, she sat on the doorstep of the St. John’s Central Virginia Children’s Center–Leslie, that is. Her nineteen year old mother of two was crying in the backseat of the city bus at the time, driving the opposite direction, and her father was either dead or good as dead. Safety pinned to Leslie’s t-shirt were two birth certificates, her own and Bridget’s, who laid in Leslie’s lap, and a simple note from the mother:

“Leslie, four. Bridget, one. Do not split them up. Do not give Leslie peanuts. Forgive me.”

Leslie grew up in the Virginia Beach area. She attended the local schools and walked back to the orphanage with Bridget in the afternoons. She was well known for making trouble on the beach… Feeding the birds so many cheesy fries they vomited on vacationers, challenging other kids to foot races along the beach, accidentally spiking volleyballs into hot dog carts. It was here on the beach–without adult supervision, without a curfew, without anyone or anything to claim her–that Leslie really blossomed. She learned to speak up for herself, because no one else was there to. She learned to make friends to replace the extended family she never had.

Leslie’s more than occasional wild streak never stopped her from playing the mother card when it came to Bridget’s well-being. She made sure her sister brushed her teeth, passed her spelling tests, and stood up to the occasional bully who made fun of her Bridget’s short stature. Knowing full well that no one was ever going to adopt them, Leslie began working as a waitress at the local pizza joint, Dough Boys, at age sixteen to start saving up money for the life she and her sister really deserved. By the time she turned of legal age, Leslie had saved enough money to buy a tiny one bedroom apartment for the two to share.

Leslie was eighteen, officially an adoptive mother by Virginia law, working a full time job at Dough Boys, still managing to kick ass on the volleyball court, and dating glorified hunky lawnmower Will Selznick. Bridget was fifteen, a sophomore in high school with ambitions of studying marine biology in college, and the apple of Leslie’s eye.

Ultimately, Bridget decided to start her first year of college at the local community college. Leslie was thrilled about this because, a). it was so much cheaper and b). she wouldn’t have to wave goodbye to her sister. Bridget was thrilled about this, because it meant she could still be around her long time friend/new boyfriend, Tony Mitchell. One summer night in-between her senior year and first year at Virginia Beach Community College, however, Bridget was caught by a wave in the ocean while swimming with Tony. Leslie wouldn’t have to worry about paying tuition for the next four years… Bridget drowned that night, and ever since, the world hasn’t seemed the same.

Understandably, Leslie’s life stopped still. Will had to help her walk at the funeral, because she was so weak. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal or slept a full night in weeks. She was constantly calling into work to get shifts covered. She never visited the beach anymore. Leslie’s constant, the only family she knew, was gone. She suffered through a pretty serious manic depressive episode, and as a result most of her relationships suffered. She shut Kara out almost completely. Despite Will’s dedication to her for three years, Leslie broke up with him, convinced she would eventually lose him too. The only person she didn’t push away was Tony, but he wasn’t much of a good influence after Bridget’s death anyways; if anything, the two only brought each other down. Leslie’s only outings included the occasional shift at Dough Boys and biweekly visits to a therapist the next town over. Leslie Mann became unrecognizable.

[INSERT RELATIONSHIP WITH MAX]

After wrecking her apartment in a violent outburst fueled by four years of pent-up emotions, Leslie finally snapped herself back into place. Somewhere between picking up the kitchen knife and holding it to her stomach, she found a piece of herself that wasn’t ready to die yet.  

That was a few months ago. Since that night, Leslie’s been working on pulling her life together. She’s repairing her apartment little by little (spending half of her nights at Kara and Annie’s anyways), working more shifts at Dough Boys and getting closer to Steve all the while, and trying to fix the most substantial romantic relationship she’s ever had… with Will. Leslie’s even thinking about getting in the water again.