The Cabin

Sebastian

Sebastian

While my mind flutters around Layla, I have to focus and remind myself of my finals. I have a vigorous schedule of eating, sleeping, and studying. I honestly don't remember the last time I showered. I am so glad Layla slipped away quietly earlier today. If she had come here to say goodbye, I would have kept her here with me. Just having Layla near me, puts me to ease. Whenever I am stressed, Layla is there next to me and finds a way of grounding me when my mind is running a mile a minute. My favorite thing that Layla has taught me has to be her hand squeezes. When Layla squeezes my hand three times, it means "I love you." Layla learned it from her parents. It was a way of communicating, but silently and personally. Only we two would know when the other squeezed. I am not great at telling her my affections in words all the time. Layla has told me her "love language" is words of affirmation. I am trying to get better at communicating my feelings for her. I am so thankful for Layla. There have been a few times when I have been on the edge of getting lost in my thoughts and her "I love you" squeeze grounds me in the moment with her. I remember squeezing Layla's hand under the table at the Lakehouse. My mother was grilling Layla to the point where I could see Layla retreating back into herself. I squeezed Layla's hand for reassurance and I think I brought Layla back. After that, Layla was much better at explaining and defending herself against my mother.

Layla is driving to my parent's house now. I know how much she hates driving so knowing Layla is doing this for me, makes me appreciate what we have. I also appreciate that this is Layla's first holiday away from her own family. This is a big change for her and I feel lucky that she is taking this next big step with me. "Shit. Stop. Study." I tell myself and I bring my wandering mind back to my textbook. I continue reading and rereading the same confusing material for over an hour. My eyes start twitching and I decided that this is the perfect time for a break. I should call Layla and see how she is doing. I heard the line ringing.

I heard the phone get answered and it sounded like Layla is in a wind tunnel. Layla must still be on the road.

"Hi, sweetheart! How are you doing?" I wanted to gauge her stress levels. Usually, when she is extremely stressed she gives short precise answers. For now, she responds with "I'm doing fine. I had a late start so I'm still on the road." There was a certain edge to her voice, she has a slight sense of panic, but she seemed to be handling herself well enough.

"How far have you gotten?" I ask. If she had just started and already sounded this stressed, I don't think she could make it the whole way.

"Oh, I'm about an hour and a half out" Layla responded, she sounded slightly distracted. I didn't know if Layla meant she is an hour and a half away from the college or my parent's home. I didn't feel like clarifying when she seemed so distracted, so instead, I asked her about the roads.

"They seem fine now, but I heard there was a storm coming through tomorrow so look out for that. You can't mediate between me and your mother if you aren't there and I can only ask your father for so many lifelines." I love that Layla is honest, but she sometimes hides her honesty under jokes. Right now that fun little line about mediation is her being completely serious. Layla gets along with everyone she comes into contact with, but somehow and for some reason, my mother hasn't taken a liking to Layla. I can't do another experience like the Lakehouse again. I knew Layla was almost in tears that day and I couldn't do anything to take back what my mother had said. The only plan I had was to leave earlier than scheduled. My mother is ruthless. When it comes to her patients, ruthlessness is a wonderful trait. My mother won't stop until she has diagnosed the proper ailment and in turn, she fights for her patients to get the help they need.

When it comes to people and grilling them on their life and past experiences, my mother knows where to stab the knife and she knows just how much to twist. Layla is the first girl I have ever brought home to my parents and I most definitely think she will be the last. I don't know if another girl would survive it. Layla remained cool under the pressure, or as calm and collected as someone could be in those circumstances.

I brought myself back to my current phone call and said "I will be safe as long as you are. Call me as soon as you get there." I had a feeling in my stomach and I doubted it would go away until after I know Layla has made it to my parents' home. "I will, I love you so much, Bash. Do good on your last final. Study hard" Layla yelled out quickly. Layla was always so supportive and it was one of the many things I loved about her. "I will and I love you too. Stay safe." I replied and hung up the phone.

I noticed I was getting a headache so I sat back in the chair at my desk. Hungry, I was hungry and I needed some food. I stood up and stretched. My back popped like a bag of popcorn and boy did it feel good. I patted my pockets and didn't feel the bulge of my wallet. "What was the last pair of pants that I wore? I asked myself." I must have been ravenous because simple thoughts and recalling memories were extremely difficult for me. I just started searching around my dorm floor and picked up every pair of pants I could find. I was quickly searching because one of these pairs was going to be significantly heavier than the others. I finally found the pair, found my wallet, and checked to make sure it had my campus meal card.

My parents didn't want me to worry about a thing while I was at school, so I had a meal card. Without this, I would be at Layla's house every night mooching off her family's homemade meals. I know how to cook pasta sauce from my dad and I know how to make the perfect salad, but these two recipes were not going to cut it for breakfast. lunch and dinner, every day for a semester. I know it's the "college student" experience to eat mac & cheese, popcorn, and ramen on a rotation, but I don't think I am cut out for that life. I put my wallet in my back pocket and text my friend James to see if he wants to go grab food together. I wait a solid 5 mins. During those 5 minutes, I get myself presentable. I run my fingers through my slightly long shaggy blonde hair. My hair seems to be a touch on the greasy side.

I think a hat is my best option. I grab my favorite beanie because it works for cold weather. I freshen up my deodorant which is definitely going on day 3. Lastly, I put my shoes and socks on. I hear a ding on my phone. I check and see that James has responded with "Sorry man, I'm not leaving my room until Wednesday afternoon" I wait a little bit longer and see he has sent me a picture. The picture is of him looking extremely tired and surrounded by energy drinks and candy. James is giving me the most pathetic thumbs-up, I have ever seen.

My phone is about to die so I decided to leave it in my room to charge while I eat. Layla won't be there for a while, so I'll definitely be back before her call. I jog downstairs and I can feel my body aching with each step. I know that the faster I get to food the faster I eat, but I am exerting too much energy to keep up my current pace. "Damn, I need to keep some snacks in my room." I think to myself. The walk to the dining hall is torture. I walk by the campus coffee cafe and look inside as a habit. I know Layla's schedule, but I always look inside for a chance to see her. I try not to go in too often while Layla is working, but if I could, I would set up a little table for myself and do all my studies while she works nearby.

I know it seems crazy, but I can't help but want to be near Layla. I have seen her calming demeanor de-escalate so many situations with upset caffeine-deprived patrons. I always just watch as she works her magic. I used to want to intervene on Layla's behalf, but she has shown me many times that she can take care of herself.

I enter the dining hall and grab two oranges and I grab a berry bowl. Lastly, I grab a dark green salad. I eat in silence and alone. Once I am done, I return as quickly as possible. Because it is finals week, the college is pretending to care about our welfare. A student is handing out water bottles to everyone leaving and telling them "Remember your brain is the most important organ, it's better to keep it functioning" I cringed at the message "Couldn't they have rephrased that?" I think to myself. When she gets to me she hands me a bottle. I begin to ask "Could I have a few? I'm gonna be held up in my dorm.' She cut me off before I finished "Takes as many as you would like. The faster I hand these out, the faster I can get back to studying." I ended up taking 5. I felt no guilt.

I returned to my dorm room and checked my phone. Nothing. No messages. I took off my hat and shoes and returned to my desk. I studied until I couldn't anymore and I drifted in and out of sleep hunched over at my desk. Something was keeping me up.I received a text message. I didn't read it but I knew it was from Layla so I drifted off to sleep happy knowing she was safe.

When I awoke, I had a text from James.