Status: Finished.
This Empty Love
Chapter o2
To put it simply, photo albums can be the devil. They lure you in and captivate you with the visual memories inside. Along with the fact that they’re malicious, they are also very bad for my mental state. A good day could be so easily ruined because of just a few pictures contained in the manicured pages.
Currently, I sat Indian style on the rough carpet in the office of our home with a photo album open on my lap. The title of this particular book happened to be “Wedding Memories” and it was just the thing to make my day turn south.
Before my eyes was the picture on the first page. One of Oliver and I, our hands connected as we stood in front of each other while taking our wedding vows. The scene was on a fairytale, lush green rolling hill in England. It was literally picture perfect.
I flipped some pages, three to be exactly, and glanced down at my favorite picture. It was after the vows as Oliver was leaning in to kiss me. Our lips hadn’t touched just yet and we were just looking at each other, completely in love.
What happened?
As my eyes started to brim with hot tears, a light padding noise filled my ears. Soon enough, the sound became louder and something wet was touching my hand.
“Milton, why’s everything falling apart?” I asked my Australian Sheperd quietly, lifting my palm to stroke his head and back. Hamilton scooted close to me and whined, setting his head in my lap.
“You still love me though.” I muttered again, using my free hang to close the photo album and set it aside. Turning my attention back to Hamilton, who was a Christmas present last year, I spoke to him softly, “Let’s go for a walk.”
Instantly, his ears perked up and he scrambled back onto his feet, heading for the front door. If anything, he would be the hardest asset to be divided amongst Oliver and I.
Pushing all thoughts aside, I grabbed his leash and headed to the front door, hoping the brisk air would be able to clear my mind.
&&
“Taylor, is that yeh?” His voice greeted me the moment I walked back into the house with Hamilton. Oliver’s accent still, somehow, made me weak-kneed.
“Yes.” I responded, my tone just as grim sounding as his.
Unhooking the leash from Milton’s collar, I watched him race off towards the kitchen where Oliver stood, glass of orange juice in hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a splash of vodka mixed in.
“My lawyer just called,” He started to say, deciding that the glass in his hand was much more interesting than his wife. “We ‘ave that meeting with the therapist tomorrow at half one.”
In American speak, that meant 1:30, which also meant I would have to call in sick yet another day at work. In response, I only nodded and walked through the kitchen, heading towards our bedroom. Oliver’s footsteps indicated he was following me.
Paying no attention, I walked over the dresser and started pulling out a few of my t-shirts, making a slightly over dramatic show of packing some of my things. I wanted Oliver to get the point that he was going to lose me if he didn‘t try.
“What’re yeh doin’?” He asked, his voice monotone. I hated not being able to read his emotions.
“Packing an over night bag. Probably staying at my sister’s again.” I replied, copying his empty voice.
Oliver sighed and set the glass down on the dresser before reaching one of his tattooed hands out and shutting the drawer I had open. “Yeh don’t need to do that. I’ll take the guest room, yeh take ours.”
This was the most we had spoken in two weeks, and it was over how we weren’t going to share a bed. Lovely. Hopefully, tomorrow will shed some light on our broken marriage.
Currently, I sat Indian style on the rough carpet in the office of our home with a photo album open on my lap. The title of this particular book happened to be “Wedding Memories” and it was just the thing to make my day turn south.
Before my eyes was the picture on the first page. One of Oliver and I, our hands connected as we stood in front of each other while taking our wedding vows. The scene was on a fairytale, lush green rolling hill in England. It was literally picture perfect.
I flipped some pages, three to be exactly, and glanced down at my favorite picture. It was after the vows as Oliver was leaning in to kiss me. Our lips hadn’t touched just yet and we were just looking at each other, completely in love.
What happened?
As my eyes started to brim with hot tears, a light padding noise filled my ears. Soon enough, the sound became louder and something wet was touching my hand.
“Milton, why’s everything falling apart?” I asked my Australian Sheperd quietly, lifting my palm to stroke his head and back. Hamilton scooted close to me and whined, setting his head in my lap.
“You still love me though.” I muttered again, using my free hang to close the photo album and set it aside. Turning my attention back to Hamilton, who was a Christmas present last year, I spoke to him softly, “Let’s go for a walk.”
Instantly, his ears perked up and he scrambled back onto his feet, heading for the front door. If anything, he would be the hardest asset to be divided amongst Oliver and I.
Pushing all thoughts aside, I grabbed his leash and headed to the front door, hoping the brisk air would be able to clear my mind.
&&
“Taylor, is that yeh?” His voice greeted me the moment I walked back into the house with Hamilton. Oliver’s accent still, somehow, made me weak-kneed.
“Yes.” I responded, my tone just as grim sounding as his.
Unhooking the leash from Milton’s collar, I watched him race off towards the kitchen where Oliver stood, glass of orange juice in hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a splash of vodka mixed in.
“My lawyer just called,” He started to say, deciding that the glass in his hand was much more interesting than his wife. “We ‘ave that meeting with the therapist tomorrow at half one.”
In American speak, that meant 1:30, which also meant I would have to call in sick yet another day at work. In response, I only nodded and walked through the kitchen, heading towards our bedroom. Oliver’s footsteps indicated he was following me.
Paying no attention, I walked over the dresser and started pulling out a few of my t-shirts, making a slightly over dramatic show of packing some of my things. I wanted Oliver to get the point that he was going to lose me if he didn‘t try.
“What’re yeh doin’?” He asked, his voice monotone. I hated not being able to read his emotions.
“Packing an over night bag. Probably staying at my sister’s again.” I replied, copying his empty voice.
Oliver sighed and set the glass down on the dresser before reaching one of his tattooed hands out and shutting the drawer I had open. “Yeh don’t need to do that. I’ll take the guest room, yeh take ours.”
This was the most we had spoken in two weeks, and it was over how we weren’t going to share a bed. Lovely. Hopefully, tomorrow will shed some light on our broken marriage.