The Cabin

Dinner Part 2: Layla

Layla

Mr. Williams announced that he was texting Sebastian to let him know I had arrived safely. Mr. Williams returned to the stove after he set his phone down on the counter. Then, Mr. Williams combined the cooked noodles and sauce together then he mixed them up. As I sat at the kitchen island and faced the blades of the knives toward our plates. I sat and watched Mr. Williams make his finishing touches. Mr. Williams brought the pan over to our area and then he scooped the pasta onto our two plates. Mr. Williams returned the pan to the stovetop and then opened up the vintage-looking oven and revealing a half loaf of garlic bread that looked perfectly cooked. Mr. Williams brought the loaf over and placed it on the countertop across from me. Out of nowhere Mr. Williams pulled out a bread knife and starts slicing the loaf. I follow Mr. Williams's movements as he grabs another plate from the cupboard and returns. Moving the bread from the counter to a plate, Mr. Williams works with ease, he has some sort of rhythm in the kitchen. I wonder what family dinners were like for Bash when he was growing up. Were his dinners chaotic or were they as calming as this one?

I snapped myself to the present and watched as Mr. Williams grabbed something from the fridge, he grabbed a solid block of cheese. "We have some parmesan cheese. Would you like some Layla?" I smiled and nodded. The kitchen and house almost felt too quiet to speak aloud in. Everything was so still. Mr. Williams leaned over the island across from me and grated some cheese over my pasta "Thank you" I said to thank, but also to signal that I had enough cheese. Mr. Williams took a step to his left and started grating over his own plate, once finished he returned the cheese to the fridge and then joined me at the island.

The pasta was absolutely amazing, it was hands down the best pasta I had ever had. I know growing up with prego and store-brand sauces, doesn't amount to much, but I had never had anything this good.

"So, Layla," Mr. Williams said while twirling his pasta on his fork "Tell me about yourself?" I immediately felt defensive and wanted to snap back with, "You didn't learn enough at the Lakehouse?" but I instead responded with a different question, "What would you like to know?"

"Everything, absolutely everything" he responded, his voice excited, but also quiet, practically a whisper."

"If you chose an area, I'll tell you anything." Mr. Williams smiled in return. I watched as Mr. Williams looked like he was thinking things over. Mr. Williams looked away from me and kind of squinted his eyes. "Education" was his only response.

"Well, I am currently one semester away from having my Bachelor's in Psychology. I have a double minor in counseling and criminology" I replied as I twirled my own fork. I got to take a bite while he asked "What made you want to major in psychology?" I felt my regular answer of "I want to help people" come to the forefront of my mind, but I knew Mr. Williams wanted more elaboration. "I have always been fascinated with the human mind. Humans perceive the world and situations so differently and I want to understand the root of that perception. How can trauma affect a person? How can someone feel nothing when killing another human being?" Mr. Williams also looked slightly shocked as he heard my answer. I felt like I messed up. I felt like I was wrong. I should have gone with my first thought but I feel as though I can be honest with Mr. Williams. "Are you more curious about the dark side of the human psyche rather than the positive?" Mr. Williams asked, with a genuine feeling of curiosity.

"Yes. I have taken a "Positive psychology" class and it was interesting, but I found myself more interested in my criminology class. Positive Psych felt more like a brain break rather than a class.

"Criminology, class? What did you learn in criminology?" Mr. Williams asked.

"I learned that some people are pure evil, and others do evil things," I responded after a few moments. I felt a cringe in my own body. That was an awful cliché answer. It felt as though it was overly dramatic. "What would you like to do with your degree? What is your dream job?" Mr. Williams asked as he took a bite of his garlic bread.