The Only Living Boy in New York

TWENTY SIX

Van

I remember all too well what it feels like to fall out of love. The ending of it all is always severe. Even if you're the one who chooses to walk away, it leaves you with such an emptiness, that mundane tasks are difficult and peace is hard to find. The absence of it is all around you. There's no filling that void. You just wait until something else comes along that you love almost as much as you loved the thing before it.

I've fallen out of love with girls, women, people, places and music many times in my short life. I knew the pattern and I'd become so expectant of it that it didn't affect me like it used to anymore. My therapist told me I'd grown numb to it, and that my reaction wasn't a reaction at all, but rather a coping mechanism that I taught myself in response. And that coping mechanism led to the rest of me wanting to be numb too, so easily I fell in love with something else. Something that could keep me up and never let me down unless I ran out of it. Substances became my replacement for people and places. And I fell for some of those things much harder than anything else in my life.

At least until now.

At least until Taylor.

I couldn't get my mind off of her, and she'd been buried in work for two weeks. Ever since Ivy's appearance, I'd been on edge and Taylor was busy with her career. She stayed with me most nights, except when she had an early meeting or a late night, which recently happened to be the majority of the week. I was jonesing for her, losing my mind over losing with time with her, but writing excessively about her, about the band (or lack their of) and about myself. My style of writing had changed as well as the rhythm and beats I was drawn too. I messaged Dave and a few friends in the city to arrange a time in a few weeks to meet and go over potentially creating new music, something I hadn't even wanted to do until now. Taylor and the city were opening doors and windows I hadn't walked through in a long time and for the first time since the band split up, I had the urge to throw myself into producing an album. But I also needed time with Taylor. I craved her and I wanted her to unwind. She needed it, and I needed to tell her how I felt. I needed to give it to her straight and let her know about the writing, about my life, all of it. If I was going to record an album that was half about her, she needed to know how I felt.

Summer crept in when no one was looking. The heat of late June was entirely too noticeable. It came in quietly and laid down in the belly of the city, burning up every bit of anyone who walked outside. I wasn't a fan of the warm summer sun, and I blamed my roots for that. Even when I lived in LA, I spent most of my days sleeping. Nights were for the action. I lived like a vampire and avoided the sun. But things were different now. When we had down time on the weekends, we spent it on the back deck of my place, or walking around town to head to dinner. The sun bleached my hair into golden tones and my checks and nose were splattered with freckles I hadn't seen in years. I traded my long sleeved shirts for t-shirts and v-necks and the bags under my eyes dissolved almost entirely.

Everything was different. Everything was new. But Taylor was burning out, and I wanted to help.

I knew she was struggling with work, so I asked her to take a Friday off. I told her I needed her to come over after work on Thursday and bring clothes for the entire weekend. She usually packed a bag for the week, but I gave her a little more direction and told her to bring things she would wear out to dinner, and an array of outfits in case we did something fun. She didn't question me. She seemed relieved to have a day off and claimed she wouldn't have taken it off on her own accord. She showed up around 3:30 Thursday afternoon and walked in with a small smile displayed on her face, but she still looked tired and like the wind had been knocked out of her. I knew Taylor's job was stressful. She managed and oversaw around thirty-five other people and sometimes she just looked like she wanted to cry, and it broke my heart when she looked beaten down.