Rickola

Rickola | Chapter Seven

© Katelyn Moore

I lay on top of the cotton quilt, arms and legs thrown out at random, covering the length of my bed. From the speakers on my computer came the soft musical tones of my favourite Rick Avery song. All I could think as his silky voice seeped into every part of my being was pathetic! There was no other word for me. I was pathetic, and I could not deny it. I had never imagined living such a pitiful lifestyle, and frankly, it was scaring the crap out of me.

As the song died down towards the end, his voice fading gently in the last few seconds, I pictured his flawless face behind my eyelids.

Perfect hair.

Perfect eyes.

Perfect skin.

Perfect everything.

How moronic was that?

When the next song started to play, voice reaching me from the desk on the other side of my bedroom, I realised what I had been doing. I was Addicted, and even Kelly Clarkson knew it.

Yep! Definitely pathetic!

I had told myself that I would stop thinking about him, but here I was, doing exactly that. I had always been a strong person, but when it came to him, I simply faltered as if I was knocked in the back of the knees—I fell every time I thought about him. It was not normal, and it frightened me.

Rick Avery consumed every part of me, but that was about to change. I was going to change. There would be no more fantasies or daydreams about what might have been, because I had just listened to my last Rick Avery song.

Time to man up and get over him.

I could do that.

I think I can do this.

No, I am doing this!

All I had to do was strap on a pair and I would be good to go.

Yes, that’s the spirit! Push him out of your head and take back control!

Almost as soon as I made my life changing decision, the home phone rang. “Bianca! Get the phone!”

I would have liked to say she heard me, but I knew that even if she did, she would ignore me. God only knew what she was doing. When the phone continued to ring, I yelled out again. “Bianca!” I was not going to answer that phone; I wasn’t leaving this room on pure principle. Bianca was the closest to the handset, so why should I be the one to answer it?

How stupid.

Eventually, the ringing stopped. “Lazy bloody cow!” And almost immediately after my bout of sisterly affection, my mobile phone started blaring right next to my ear. I jumped up into a sitting position, startled by the ringing, to check who was calling me. “Hello, Nan?”

“Nicola, it’s your Nan. Are you home?”

I looked over at the digital clock, shaped like a plump, red love heart, on my bedside table to see that it was already past lunchtime, and Nan’s arrival time. “Yeah, yeah, we’re home.” I couldn’t believe I had let the time runaway with me. How could I forget Nan was due here at midday?

Because you’re an obsessed idiot.

“Well come and help your old grandmother out then, I can’t carry this lot all on my own,” she laughed. Even though she kept an airy tone to her words, I could hear the worry in her voice. Neither Bianca nor I had answered the house phone. She probably thought something was terribly wrong.

“Okay, I’ll be down in a sec.”

I moved quickly, chasing down my thongs beside my desk whilst making sure my room was tidy. I even straightened my bedcover so that it looked perfect for Nan. It was when I reached the kitchen to grab my keys that I saw the mess. Cereal bowls littered the sink and there was a small milk puddle splattered across the bench top.

“Bianca,” I called out and power walked to the living room where she sat on the floor behind the coffee table, drawing. “Nan’s here. The kitchen’s a mess; can you tidy it up at a little?”

She snapped to attention when she heard the words Nan and mess. They were not things to be in the same room at the same time, and considering the mess in the kitchen was mostly Bianca’s, she could clean it. She didn’t complain and did as she was asked straight away. Nan was a perfectionist, and Bianca didn’t feel like being chastised the moment we saw our grandmother. Neither did I. Bianca could empathise with that.

I took my time getting to the elevator, allowing Bianca a few more moments to sort out the apartment. She would be channelling Speedy Gonzales and she would get things done quickly if the motivation was there. And boy, she definitely had some.