Rick

A story written for Aberdeenshire Film Productions

Rick and I were together for three years when we heard the news. Rick had cancer. The doctor explained the treatment course to us and the expectations we should have. Rick went through chemotherapy and, in spite of what the doctor had told us, we had high hopes. Rick was a physically fit person and very strong mentally. But the cancer was stronger. The therapy didn’t work.

“It’s ok, honey,” he said. “I’m ok with it.” He tried to console me as I was crying. I loved him so much and didn’t want to lose him. “I’ll always be with you, sweetheart. Maybe not in body, but I will always be there in spirit.” I raised my head and he kissed me.

“Will you let me know if there is something hereafter?” I smiled as I wiped away my tears, trying to lighten the mood so he wouldn’t worry too much about me.

“Of course I will. Nothing can stop me from being with you!” he said as he hugged me tightly. “You’ll always be my girl and I’d do anything for you!”

Death makes no exceptions though and Rick was taken from me that autumn. I mourned for months and my parents made me see a grief councillor.

“I miss him so much. I keep seeing Rick’s face in crowds,” I told him.

“That’s normal, people often do that after a bereavement,” was his answer.

At first the talks with the grief councillor didn’t do much to reduce the hole in my heart caused by Rick’s absence, but they were comforting. Slowly but surely, I did get over Rick’s death. After two years or so I was ready to start dating again. After all, I was only twenty-eight.

I met Darrell at the cinema. We were both watching ‘Deadpool’ on our own, Darrell sitting two seats away from me. We laughed at the jokes and both of us glanced sideways now and again to check each other out. After the movie we started chatting and I asked him if he would like to go somewhere and have a drink together. He took me to a nice bar he knew, just around the corner from the cinema. It clicked instantly between us and after talking all evening we exchanged details.

I was unsure to call him back. Was I really ready for this? But Darrell didn’t waste any time and before I knew it we were seeing each other every weekend. After three weeks I let him kiss me goodnight on my doorstep. After six weeks the kisses were French kisses. After nine weeks I asked him inside.

We were kissing passionately as we stumbled into the hallway. He took off my jacket and let it slide on the floor. We twirled into the living room and fell on the couch. I sat on top of him and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His chest was hairy and I let my hands swirl through the curls. He was looking at me in a strange way.

“What?” I asked, afraid that I didn’t live up to his expectations.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

Abruptly he lifted me off him, stood up and swooped me off my feet.

“Where is your bedroom?” he asked, twisting around, searching for the right door.

I giggled.

“It’s that way,” and pointed him in the right direction.

‘This is it,’ I thought.

He carried me into the bedroom and gently put me on my bed. We kissed passionately again.

“Is it okay if I have a shower first?” he asked tentatively. I had picked him up straight from work and I understood that after a day of bricklaying he would want to get cleaned up first.

“Sure, use the en-suite. There’s towels in the cupboard under the sink.”

I hadn’t anticipated this to happen and now I wished I had cleaned the bathroom a bit more recently.

Whilst he was having his shower I quickly got up and checked my hair in the mirror. As we had dinner together, I checked if there was left-over spinach leaves between my teeth too while I was at there. I positioned myself on my bed againand lifted one knee. Or should I lift the other one, what would be more pleasing for Darrell to look at when he comes out of the bathroom? I heard Darrell close the shower tap and cupped my hand in front of my mouth to check my breath.

“What the fuck?!” I heard Darrell shout.

What on earth could be wrong?

Darrell came storming out of the en-suite, a towel gripped around his waist.

“I thought you said you weren’t in a relationship!” he shouted angrily at me.

“I’m not…”

I was perplexed. What in heaven’s name would have given him that idea?

“Yeah, well, I don’t buy it! See you later!” he quickly got dressed and I heard him slam the front door.

There I was, on my own again. What had happened? Why did he leave me?

I slowly got up and walked to the en-suite, one foot at a time.

Did I really want to know why Darrell had left, what had got him so spooked?

I pushed the door open further and looked around the steamy room. At first glance I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then, on the foggy mirror, I could see letters. I stepped in front of the mirror and to my horror I saw it, very loud and clear, raising the hairs on my entire body.

The letters read ‘FUCK OFF, SHE’S MINE!’

Copyrighted by Jacky Dahlhaus

 

One thought on “Rick”

Do tell me what you think about this article :)

Join me on a journey of words

%d bloggers like this: