This Empty Love

The next morning, exactly at 8:30 a.m., I picked up my cell phone and called Dr. Owens. After momentarily speaking to his secretary, I had arranged to meet with the doctor at one this afternoon.

Currently, I was in the shower trying to organize my thoughts and what I was going to tell the therapist. So far, all I could come up with was how I was completely furious with Oliver and how I wouldn’t object to ignoring the three month thing and getting the divorce. That seemed to be the only logical step to take at the moment. I love Oliver, I wanted to be with him, but then again, being with him was killing me.

By the time I was out of the shower and dressed, Oliver was long gone. What a surprise. A small post-it note was left on the fridge with two words: band practice. Oh how nice of him to tell me.

Dr. Owens was waiting for me, perched in his usual arm chair, when I walked into his office. After a small greeting, I sat down in front of him, potentially ready to spill my heart out.

Owens leaned back into his chair and linked his fingers together in his lap. “So, Taylor, what was so urgent that you needed to see me?” He asked, his voice calm.

I bit my lip. “Oliver, what else?” I asked, giving a depressed chuckle, “He had a show last night, and I went, only to have him expose very personal lyrics. And the icing on the cake was breaking down in front of a stone cold husband. Dr. Owens, I really can’t take this any more.”

He dropped his very professional poise and leaned forward, becoming more natural as he spoke. “Giving up now, after coming this far, would only show your weakness. By not reacting to you last night, he was testing himself, seeing if he could go through with this in the end: preparing himself.”

“Then that means he’s already given up on me,” I told him. Wiping my eyes quickly, I looked down a bit, “Why can’t I give up on him?”

“Love works in funny ways, believe me.” Owens replied, being more casual than I had ever seen him. “About the song, what was it exactly?”

Without replying, I reached into my purse and pulled a copy of the lyrics out, handing it over to him. Secretly, I was hoping that he would side with me on all of this, so I mentioned the fact that Oliver had told me lyrics were lies.

Owens read it with little emotion on his face. Once he was done, he leaned forward and placed the paper on his coffee table. Finally, he addressed me about it.

“What part of this concerns you more?” Owens asked, once again leaning back into his chair, “The fact that he got personal, talking about things such as addictions, or the fact that he wrote this and then claimed it meant nothing?”

“I’m not sure really.” I replied honestly, “Probably the fact he was personal and laid our problems out on the table in front of everyone. He says I’m stuck in the past, yet he won’t let go of what’s already been over and done with.”

“You’re swaying away from the topic,” He stated, a small smile flickering onto his face. “But what’s been over and done with? The addiction? Care to elaborate?”

“I hit an all time low when I was nineteen. After being in a bad car crash, I got addicted to pain medications for a good year or so. At times, I was desperate, and I held it against Oliver since he wasn‘t always there, because of the band. We broke up over it for half a year, until I sobered up.” I explained, my voice becoming lower with each word. That section of my past was the hardest for me to stomach.

&&

“Taylor, babe, calm down, please?” Oliver asked, his voice soft.

Oli had just walked into my room, entering a battle ground between myself. On one side was my desperate, pill craving self, ready to devour anything I could find. On the other, was the broken down me, just wanting to go back to normal. Oliver didn’t know what to do.

“No.” I said simply, scrambling up from my floor and into my connecting bathroom. My destination was the cupboard under my sink where a stash of pills was located.

“Taylor.” Oliver said, more as a warning. In that one call of my name, I knew it was him telling me not to do what I was planning, but I just couldn’t listen.

He quickly followed me into the bathroom and looped his arms around my body, pulling me away from the cupboard where I was crouched over, stumbling to open the wood door. Turning quickly, I faced him, angry.

“Let me go.” I told him, my voice seemingly fierce. In reality, I was pathetic and weak.

“Tay, baby, please stop. Just come with me; let’s go for a walk, let’s go to my house.” He cooed as he stepped forward, bringing me closer to him.

Shaking my head, I pushed away from his chest and tried to get away, knowing I had more of what I needed in my closet. Oliver was faster than me though, and he was soon wrapped around me again, brining me down to the floor with him. He held me tight, whispering in my ear.

“Yeh don’t need it. Get rid of it, for me, please?” He cooed again, his voice gentle. But I wasn’t buying it.

Who did he think he was, trying to tell me to get rid of it? Had he forgotten about the bag of weed he kept behind his head board or the joints hidden in one of his old shoe boxes?

“No Oli, you’re just the same. You want it for yourself, don’t you?” I hissed, trying to push away from him. “You don’t care anything about me, you want to see me in pain don’t you?”

“Taylor, don’t act this way. We both know that’s not true.” He sounded defeated, but in my desperate state of mind, I hadn’t realized that I was about to make him break down.

“It is, you don’t care about me at all. To think that I moved out here only to have you not care. I thought you loved me.” I mumbled, finally crawling away from him. I scooted away and near the closet, muttering as I went, “I thought you loved me.”

“I do love yeh,” Oliver told me. I heard him stand up and walked toward me. He stopped behind me as I reached inside my closet, fishing around for what I need. “But I can’t love yeh like this, I can’t love yeh if yeh won’t let me. I’m sorry Taylor, but I can’t be with you like this.”

“See, you don’t love me. It’s fine for you to do things like this, but when it’s me it tears us apart.” I said, more to myself then him. Finally, I found the small bottle and swallowed the pills dry, “Get out, just get out.”

&&

“So you and Oliver had broken up at one point?” Owens asked me once I was done telling my story. Nodding, I let him keep talking, “How long were you two separated?”

“A good six or seven months.” I replied. I was picking at my finger nails trying to calm my nerves, “I sobered up a month after I realized that I had lost him, but he was on tour for a few months. It took us a while to build up that trust again.”

“Did either of you see other people during the half year apart?” He questioned, standing up as he spoke. I watched him walk over to his desk and grab his notepad before I replied.

“I didn’t really,” I said, about to be honest, “I hooked up with one other guy, in a drunken daze only a few weeks after the break up. I felt horrible after that. I’d only been with Oliver before him, and it just didn’t feel right if I wasn’t with Oli. As for him, I think he had a fling, or two, as well.”

“Did that upset you?” Owens asked, his pen ready to write down my next response.

I chewed on the inside of my mouth. “Well of course. I felt like a hypocrite too, because I got upset over that even though I had hooked up with someone of my own.”

“What you need to realize is, that having your feelings hurt doesn’t mean you’re a hypocrite, it means you care.” He assured me. “I’d rather talk about the relationship stuff with both you and Oliver, I wasn’t to got from where we left off last time to the present day. I have another appointment in a few minutes, so tomorrow I’ll speak with you both, that alright?”

“Yes,” I replied. “But in the mean time, what can I do to get Oliver to care again?”

“He’s probably not caring because he remembers when you didn’t care - or when it seemed like you didn’t.” He told me, “What I want you to do, is to try and talk about the past addiction with him, and then apologize. A late apology is better than none at all.”