This Empty Love

Oliver didn’t reply because he didn’t know how to respond. I knew that by my last comment, I was egging on a fight, but him not escalating it seemed like a step in a more positive direction. At least, I hope that’s what it meant.

“Comin’ here is pointless.” Oliver said, walking off towards the kitchen. I dropped my suitcase by the stairs and followed him, waiting for an explanation. “I’m leavin’ for London tomorrow. There’s some stuff with Drop Dead that I have to get done down there.”

I watched, keeping my mouth shut, as Oliver poured himself a glass of juice. He even offered me some, but I declined. We stood there in the small space for a while and just watched each other. I took in his appearance, worn down but appealing as ever and he studied my jetlagged exterior.

I leaned against a counter. “You can’t put off going to London for a couple days?”

“I’ve been puttin’ it off for months.” He said simply.

“Well, what time are you leaving? When are you going be to back?” I asked. There was no way I was letting him get off the hook that easily. I did not fly down here just for him to leave for London, planned or not.

Oliver set his glass down by the sink and rubbed his face before running his hands through his hair. He was acting as if I had just asked a difficult question. “I’m leavin’ at half one, and I’ll be gone for two days. Maybe less, depenin’ on how things go.”

I was going to fire off about five other questions when the door leading from the garage to the kitchen opened. Standing there was Ian Sykes, Oliver’s dad, with paper grocery bags in his hands. He was too busy trying to hold the door open with his foot for his wife, Carol, to notice that his daughter-in-law was standing in the kitchen. Carol, however, didn’t miss a beat.

“Taylor?” She smiled, her face lighting up. “Oliver didn’t tell us that yeh were comin’ into town!”

“That’s because I didn’t know.” Oliver replied for me. His mother shot him a death glare before walking the length of the kitchen and sweeping me into a hug.

“It’s been so long, how have yeh been? How’s your mum and dad?” She asked, holding me out at arms length and looking at me. Ian greeted me with a side hug, which was the best he could do with bags under his arms, and slipped into the pantry. Lucky him, he was able to avoid the awkwardness.

I plastered on a fake smile. I didn’t know how to reply to the first part because I had no idea what Oliver had or hadn’t told his family. “I’ve been okay, and my parents are doing really well.”

Carol smiled once more and turned to look at Oliver. Her eyes were scolding him for his rudeness. It took everything inside of me not to laugh at the nonverbal conversation going on between them. After a moment of awkward staring, Oliver sighed in defeat and looked over to me, nodding his head towards the exit of the kitchen.

I offered a soft smile in the direction of Carol and Ian before following the half-naked Oliver out of the room. As I tagged along behind him, I made sure to keep a small amount of distance. He led me up the stairs and down the hall to his old bedroom. He surprised me by opening the door for me, ushering me in before walking through the frame himself. The door closed and locked with a click.

“So what have you told your parents?” I asked him, watching as he pulled a shit over his head. I found myself wishing he hadn’t.

Oliver flattened the fabric with his tattooed hands before smoothing out his hair. It was still messy, obviously untamable without some sort of product or shower. He turned away from me, distracting himself by picking up the clothes strewn around the room.

“Basically everythin’. I spared ‘em the details, but they know all the general shit.” He explained, now straightening out the blankets on the bed. “What did yeh tell your sister? And your mum? They always get more information out of you.”

I glared at the back of his head and pursed my lips together. There was no way to prove him wrong though, because he was completely right. On certain parts, I didn’t spare my sister the details.

“Ashley knows some details, but my mom and dad only know basics.” I replied. Then quieter, “Don’t act victimized.”

Oliver heard me stopped what he was doing. “Really? Yeh think I’m actin’ victimized? Whatevah Taylor, at least I didn’t come ‘ere actin’ all pissed when yeh found out I actually had plans to go somewhere.”

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I didn’t want to fight; I really didn’t want to. Instead of replying as I planned, I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him. He looked frustrated, tired, and defeated. Everything about his body language screamed exhausted, and I couldn’t blame him. If I saw him like this five months ago, I would have just embraced him and never let go.

“Could I maybe go to London with you?” I blurted out, not taking the time to process my question before I said it. Instantly, I wished I could suck the words back into my throat.

“What?” He turned to face me completely, a bewildered look on his face. He apparently didn’t expect me to ask such a thing either.

“I – never mind. I’m not sure why I asked.” I tried to cover for myself quickly, but I didn’t sound very convincing.

Oliver sat on the edge of the bed, farthest from me, but kept his eyes locked on me. “Why would yeh want to go? Yeh always hated that shit.”

“Because I came to see you, to talk to you, but you’re going off to London. I guess that if I could go with you, we might be able to figure out some things. I honestly didn’t think about what I said until I said it, so forget I mentioned anything.” I replied.

“We can hardly get along for five minutes, how are we goin’ to stand a 5-hour drive from ‘ere to there, and then back again?”

I shrugged, offering up no hope for this already disastrous idea. I stared down at my hands, lightly popping my fingers. It was one of my bad habits that Oliver hated. He reached across the gab between us and grabbed onto my hand.

“Would yeh stop that?” He asked, eyeing. In spite, I twisted my left hand and popped the remaining knuckles. Oliver squirmed. “See, yeh can’t even let that be. There’s no way we could last London together.”

“You wouldn’t have even given it a shot.” I responded, lying back onto the bed. It was just as comfortable as I always remembered. Maybe more so now that I couldn’t crawl under the blankets and sleep here.

Oli sighed, rubbing his palms on his knees. Any more of that, and the high five tattoo on his hand might just rub right off. Just by glancing at him, and seeing the contemplative look on his face, I could tell the gears in his head were turning with ideas and situations.

“I’ve got an idea, alright?” He spoke up. I knew he was only running this by me to prove he would have given it a shot. In no ways was I complaining. “What if we fly to London, see ‘ow things pan out, and take the time to drive back if everythin’ is decent? If it goes horribly, we’ll just fly back; make it shorter.”