This Empty Love

I drummed my fingers against the hard wood of my parent’s kitchen table. I was currently on the phone and had been on hold for over ten minutes, even though I called Dr. Owens’s private phone line. The elevator music finally stopped, followed by a click to the other line.

“Hello Taylor, how can I help you?” Dr. Owens greeted.

I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to figure out how to word what I wanted to ask. “Hi, Doc. I actually wanted some advice on a situation. I just need to know if it will be a completely horrible idea.”

“Alright, have at it.” He sounded more focused now, obviously interested.

“Well, I’m in Washington right now and Oliver is in England, and I was thinking about flying to see him. He doesn’t know though, and I don’t exactly want him to. I’m worried he’ll disappear with the guys before I get there.” I explained in one breath. The line went silent for a moment, but I swear to God I could hear Owens click his pen and start writing. That damn notebook.

“I’m not quite sure the element of surprise would be the best idea.” Owens admitted. I heard more scribbling on the other line. “On the other hand, I do think that seeing him would be good, especially in that environment.”

I wasn’t quite sure if he was giving me the OK, or simply going over the options in his head. “So, should I go?”

“Yes, you should. I’d call his brother first, though, make sure you have somewhere to stay incase things go south.”

When your therapist has to warn you things may not happen correctly, you know things aren’t going as good as they could. I thanked Dr. Owens for his opinion and hung up. My next call went to the Seattle Airport. I booked the earliest flight for tomorrow morning before I even attempted to call Tom.

“Taylor! Yeh alright?” Of course, Tom Sykes answered the phone with his usual greeting.

“Yep, I’m good.” I replied, looking up as my mom entered the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and sat next to me at the table while I talked. “I have some news though. I’m flying to England tomorrow morning.”

He was silent for a moment, and I heard shuffling before he spoke. “Sorreh, I had to go outside so Mum wouldn’t hear. Yeh are really comin’ back ‘ere? Does your husband know?”

Sometimes, I hated how Tom worded things. “Your husband” made it sound like there was nothing wrong with Oliver and my relationship. “No, he doesn’t, so keep your mouth shut. I just needed to make sure I’d have a ride from the airport to your mom’s house.”

“Your mother-in-law’s house,” He corrected, laughing into the phone. “Anyways, I’ll definitely pick yeh up. Just let me know your landin’ time and all that.”

I told Tom all the information of my flight and hung up, turning my attention to my mom. She was sipping coffee and looking at me from the corner of her eyes. “So?” She asked.

“I guess I’m going to England.” I explained to her, offering up a half smile.

She nodded. “I think it will be for the better, I really do. You know your father and I support you, and so do Carol and Ian.”

“Thanks Mom.” I stood up from my chair and leaned over, hugging her. She hugged me back, kissing my cheek. I heard her wish a soft good luck before I left the room.

That same night, I said goodbye to my parents and drove with Ashley back to her house. The whole way she tried to give me advice on what I should and shouldn’t do. Most of the “should” advice consisted of sex, apologies, and more sex. The only negative she said, was me not having sex with Oliver. Sometimes, I really wonder if she’s all right in the brain.

“You got all your shit together?” Ashley asked, walking into the guest room of her house.

I was sitting on the bed in front of my bright red suitcase. I brought enough clothes with me to Ashley’s to tide me over for a while. I didn’t need my whole closet, since I did have a lot of clothes in Oliver’s old room anyways.

“Figuratively, no.” I responded.

“You will soon.” She assured me, “Now, go to bed. You don’t need to stay up worrying, especially not when you have to be up early in the morning.”

Despite Ashley’s warning, I wasn’t able to sleep. I was up all night, wondering if going to England was really a good idea. I was so worried that this would turn around and blow up in my face. What if Oliver completely hated me for showing up? What if he was done with our relationship, and this ends up just being the icing on the cake?

I tried to play every possible situation in my mind, though I knew none of the events would be able to play out as I imagined them. Either everything could go completely right, or extremely wrong. I honestly don’t see it going both ways. Oliver and I were definitely too stubborn for that.

&&

“Welcome to Sheffield, England. The current temperature is 58 degrees Fahrenheit and the local time is 1:33 p.m. We hope you had a nice flight.

My heart pounded with the realization that I was actually back in England. Somewhere in the terminal, Tom was waiting to drive me to my fate. Either this trip would be a success, or it would further put my relationship with Oliver in turmoil.

“It’s nice to see yeh, Taylor.” Tom greeted me with a hug before helping me carry my bag out to his car.

“I missed you Tom.” I said sincerely, getting into the “wrong” side of his car. “So is Oliver at your house?”

“Technically, yeah, but I moved out a few months ago, so it’s not much my house anymore. I’m living with Matt Nicholls now.” He explained. “My parents aren’t at the house though, it’s just Oliver. Will that be okay, or would yeh want me to stay?”

I thought about this for a moment. Having Tom stay would make things very awkward between Oliver and me, no doubt about that. On the other hand, if he left and then things went south, I would have no ride to flee the scene.

“It would probably be better if you didn’t stay.” I replied cautiously. I was having an unsure feeling, which was obviously showing through my voice. Tom noticed but ignored it, for the better.

The rest of the fifteen-minute drive to the Sykes’ household was full of small talk. Tom told me about his new flat, a girl he had gone on a few dates with, and his photography. In turn, I told him about seeing my sister and my parents, and what it was like to be backing home.

“Should I wish yeh good luck?” Tom asked, pulling his car up to the side of the house.

I stared at the familiar cobblestone home for a while, completely silent. All I had to do was open the door, get out of the car, and walk the fifteen feet up the door. Then, I needed to muster up enough courage to actually knoc; I wasn’t going to cheat by finding the spare key and letting myself inside.

“Sure.” I replied softly, “But I’m not sure it’s luck I need.”

Briefly, I glanced at Tom. He replied simply with that all-knowing look he was good at and ushered me out the door.

Left foot, right foot. Breathe. Repeat.

I soon found myself in front of the stain glass covered door, maybe sooner than I even wanted. Now, I was faced with another tough decision; knock, or doorbell. I went for doorbell and stepped back away from the door, suitcase at my side, and waited.

Moments later, I heard the lock click open. My heart was racing now, ready to thud out of my chest and drop to the ground below me. The door swung inward, and a half asleep Oliver appeared in the entryway. It took him a few moments of blinking in my direction to fully register what was going on.

“Taylor?” He questioned with a voice raspy. Damn, he seemed it worse condition than I did.

I nodded. “Can I come inside?”

Oliver stepped out of the way, revealing the rest of the living room and him. He was shirtless, only wearing a pair of silver basketball shorts, which hugged his thin hipbones. Adding to the outfit was a pair of black socks. His hair was tousled and messy, barely hiding the bags forming under his eyes.

“What are yeh doin’ here?” He asked. After I walked into the house with my bag, he shut the door behind me.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I replied, taking in the look and smell of the house. I hadn’t been here in what felt like ages.

The sofa, as always, had a blue and grey quilt draped over the back. The air was laced with scents of lavender and vanilla, with the slightest hint of bread baking. Oliver didn’t reply right away. Instead, he stood to the side of me and watched as I studied what I used to call my second home.

“Don’t you think a little warning would have been nice?” He snapped.

I turned and faced him, thankful for the space between us. “Weren’t you the one who taught me to be spontaneous?”