MARIGOLD // Dave Grohl

II. Homecoming

New York, NY → Seattle, WA

April 9, 1994

Part II

Sarah emotionally prepared herself, as she was invited to the private memorial for Kurt's close friends, family, and Nirvana crew. She had found a sitter for her two cats, Pirozhki and Svetlana, and packed a small suitcase of her belongings before walking out her apartment door into the bustling streets of New York City.

She saw a cab approaching the sidewalk and she approached the car, asking to be taken to LaGuardia International Airport. Within the hour combined with traffic, Sarah arrived at the airport and purchased her one way ticket to Seattle, Washington.

The flight went pretty smoothly, with the exception of the kid next to her blasting a Nevermind tape over their Walkman, so Sarah could hear her dead best friend's voice loud and clear. She couldn't think straight. By the end of the flight, she was an emotional mess and had to force herself to stand up and leave the aircraft.

She walked out into the arrivals area to see James holding a giant poster with "SARAH AUSTIN" drawn in black Sharpie, overlapped probably fifty times in order to make the font bold enough to see from a far distance. James was looking around frantically, as if Sarah could miss him and that sign. She speed walked towards him, which quickly turned into a light jog until he spotted her running at him and threw the sign to the ground, enveloping her in a hug.

The siblings held each other tightly. "I'm so sorry," James whispered, and Sarah pulled away, looking James in the eyes. "I'm sorry, too," she replied, and James wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they headed out of the airport to the parking lot. This closeness was a new concept to them; Kurt ended up bringing them together despite their long-standing hatred for one another.

Sarah tossed her suitcase in the trunk, tying it down with bungee cords and joining him in the front of his 1971 red Ford F-150 pickup. "So, how was the flight?" James tried to start up a conversation, but Sarah just leaned her head against the window. "I don't want to talk about it. It was awful. Please take me to the Best Western hotel."

"Oh, okay," James shrugged, turning the key in the ignition and driving down the highway, away from the Seattle Tacoma International Airport. "Are you sure you don't just want to stay with us?" James offered, and Sarah immediately declined, shaking her head. "Please don't make me face Dad, I don't need more drama on my plate."

Their father did not approve of Sarah's move to New York to attend art school. Once he cut her off financially, Sarah pushed herself through art school on student loans, working two jobs and selling commissions. She understood to some degree her father's disapproval, but she was always the kind of person to assert herself and do what she needed to do.

The entire ride, Sarah tapped her feet nervously, trying to relieve herself of the accumulating guilt in the pit of her stomach, but it wouldn't go away. Maybe she really was the reason why he killed himself. James parked the truck under the giant hotel awning, turning towards Sarah as soon as the gears shifted.

"Are you sure you want to stay here? You can stay with us for free,"James offered once again, and Sarah shook her head once more. "James, I really appreciate your offer, but I need this to go by quickly and on a good note. I'm here for Kurt, not to make amends with Dad."

James nodded in understanding, helping Sarah release her suitcase from the bungee cords, and giving her a hug goodbye before she headed into the hotel to check in.

Once she arrived at her room, walked in and closed the door, she immediately felt strangely vulnerable. The entire way to Seattle she had been suppressing her emotions, and now that she was alone, she couldn't anymore.

She felt herself collapse against a wall, her heart aching like it never had before. All she needed in that moment was Kurt. If he were there, he would have held her as she let out her cries, stroking her hair and telling her everything was going to be alright. He would have helped her up, got her a blanket and found her favorite book, Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde before sitting down next to her with two bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream. He insisted that was the cure for anything shitty. "Except," he would joke, "it makes things more shitty for me," referring to his stomach problems. "But never mind that. You deserve all the happiness in the world, Sarah." Sarah cried even harder at this recurring memory, wrapping her arms around her middle.

There was a knock on the door, immediately silencing and simultaneously scaring Sarah. She hesitantly stood up from her spot on the floor of her hotel room, walking up to the door to look through the peephole. Through the small circular lens she saw Dave Grohl, his hands in his pockets and looking down. She backed up from the door in order to open it, and Dave looked up from his shoes to see Sarah's mascara stained face.

"I thought I heard crying, and wanted to see if everything was alright. You're Kurt's friend, right? I recognize you from pictures," Dave asked in a low tone, and Sarah nodded. "Wanna come in?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'm alone in here right now as well. I'm between places," Dave agreed, walking into Sarah's room as she stepped aside to let him through. The room was still dark; she had neglected to turn on the lights when she first arrived.

Sarah turned on the lamp beside her bed, the light enhancing Dave's features. She wasn't sure if she was seeing things, but he had dark circles and glassy, red eyes. He was probably going through it, too. After all, he spent a lot of time with Kurt leading up to his death.

"So, anything I can do to help?" Dave offered, sitting down in the chair next to the dresser. Sarah shook her head, slumping down onto her bed face up like a Raggedy Ann doll. "All I want is Kurt right now."

"Yeah, I get that," Dave got quiet again, folding his hands in his lap and tapping his feet.

"He taught me how to draw," she said to the ceiling, and Dave just listened. "He was so good at drawing cartoon characters. He would draw Donald Duck on notes that he would leave in my locker every Wednesday. He did so in celebration of the halfway mark in the school week. He always had a way of making me happy through all my pessimism."

Dave nodded, humming to show her that he was actively listening. Sarah pulled her hands to her eyes as she let out a cry. "I don't understand how someone that pulled me away from my demons all the time couldn't escape from his own!"

"Come here," Dave told her, standing up from the chair as she walked towards him. He opened his arms and pulled her in, hugging her. She didn't know if it was the long hair or smell of cigarettes but this was the closest she felt to Kurt in a long time.

"Thanks, Dave."

"No problem, Sarah."