The Cabin

Aaron Whitmore

Aaron Whitmore

Each night I dream of Layla, I dream of finding her. Somehow, somewhere, I find Layla. I circulate through different scenarios of finding Layla. Sometimes I find Layla years from now, living a wonderful and happy life. I watch from a distance as Layla raises her own family. Other times, I am far less lucky. I race to the police station knowing that Layla has been lost in the woods, or found dumped on the side of the road or at a gas station with amnesia. Most often, I dream that we find Layla's body. In my dreams I find peace no matter the circumstance because even though it isn't always a happy ending, at least I know the conclusion to Layla's story. Then, I wake up. One moment of peaceful nothingness to start my day. Then the crushing weight of unknowing crushes my chest.

Layla is my little sister. The first duty I was ever given, was to protect her, and I have done that every day of my life. When we were both very little I remember that Layla would come to me first when she had nightmares. Layla was scared of the dark when she was young just like many children are. When Layla needed comfort from the dark scary things that lurked in the shadows, she would come running to me. I would check her room and closet, from top to bottom searching for whatever haunted her. When thunderstorms rolled in, Layla would sleep in bed with me. I would hold Layla close as the storm raged on. I would tell Layla that the storms were just clouds bumping into each other on their way to work. At the time, Our mother worked overnight at a crisis intervention hotline. Our mom worked nights so that our dad could do long days of welding. Because mom worked overnight, it was easier for Layla to believe the cloud commute story. When Mom came home, she would ask us if we could hear the traffic. I never told Layla this, but I was scared of the storms too. I needed Layla just as much as she needed me.

These days, the house is so quiet. It is almost as though my parents and I are living in a misty fog. We exist through every moment and yet we aren't processing anything. I wake up, shower, and then get ready for the day. My dad does the same. We often cross paths in the morning. The only words that are uttered are "Good morning" as we eat breakfast. We each head out and then go off to work. A week ago, we realized that there weren't any "new" places to look for Layla so we stayed home. Our search had become exhausted and now everything seems like it is at a standstill. Then bills started coming in. Bills don't care about you or whatever you are going through. Our world has been shattered, but at least the bills are there to remind us that existence on this Earth is a bitch. I want to say that we are coping as well as can be expected, but that would be a flat-out lie.

My dad is angry. Every morning on his way to work, he calls the police station. My dad calls again on his lunch break, on his way home, and before he goes to bed. Every time he gets the answer, "We have no new information to give you at this time." I am afraid that he will snap soon. The only thing keeping my dad from self-destructing is the fact that my mom has already self-destructed. If Layla was to return, she would need at least one person to help her. My dad hides his pain well, but I know one of these days he will go ballistic and I pray for whoever is in his path when he loses it.

My mom on the other hand can be summed up in one word, catatonic. My mom lays in bed all day. I return home before my dad and often do my mom's daily care tasks. When I look into my mom's eyes, it is almost as though she is looking through me. The depth of my mom's pain cannot be measured. The day we find Layla in any state but alive will be the day I finally lose my mother. The last thing I heard from my mother was on the 10th of Layla's dissaperence. My mom was home and she must have thought that she was alone while my dad and I were out searching. I was standing in front of our house. I couldn't face going in again without Layla so I just stood in the front yard. That is when I heard her muffled scream. My mom let out a guttural scream filled with pain, sorrow, and loss. My mom collapsed to the floor after all of the air had escaped her lungs. When my mom refused to take another inhale, so she passed out. I held her in my arms. I began to cry. Watching my mom process Layla's absence, made it real for me. I picked my mom's limp body off the floor and tucked her into bed. My mom's scream is nothing that could be replicated, but will forever be stuck in my head. Ever since that day, my mom hasn't left the house. Even if Layla returned today, I am unsure how long it would be before my mom was whole again.