WITH CHRISTMAS DAYS away, Lindy was feeling desperately torn on how she would carry out her celebratory plans. If she stayed in Seattle with Kurt, Krist and Shelli, she would not see Trae, marking the first Christmas that they would not spend together.
She'd proposed the idea of going back to Aberdeen to Kurt, but he was quick to rebuff the idea.
"I won't go back. But if you go back, that's fine. Don't worry about me," he'd said, though Lindy could tell it bothered him to his core to see her leave him during the holidays. He'd then retreated moodily to his room to play his guitar so loudly that she thought the windows might have shattered.
She had finally come to terms with the idea that she probably would have to do without Trae for Christmas. She didn't have the money for public transportation and it pained her too much to abandon Kurt when Krist and Shelli had each other.
She'd walked into his room four days before Christmas, her own belongings littering his floor since she had left her dorm for the holiday vacation.
"I'm going to stay here with you," she announced, leaning against the door frame.
He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, a rumpled notebook by him and his guitar in his lap. His eyes briefly flickered to her before they retreated back to the pages of his songwriting. Lindy had the distinct feeling of dealing with a small child, though she didn't really mind his behavior.
"You don't have to Linds. Like I said, don't worry about me. I'm busy here writing new music, and Krist and I are going to go try out a new drummer. His name is Chad."
At that precise moment, Krist joined them in the room, sticking his head through the doorway. He appeared weary with whatever news he carried.
"Uhm, Kurt . . . your mom is on the phone."
Kurt's head snapped up immediately. "What? How?"
"Uh, because Alexander Graham Bell famously crafted the idea of the telephone, enabling us to explore the early beginnings of mass communication?"
"No stupid, how did she get the number to the house?"
Krist shrugged. "I dunno', but she's asking for you."
Lindy raised her eyebrows at Kurt. He threw his guitar down, getting up off the bed angrily.
"This should be good," he muttered, pushing past Lindy with such annoyance that she looked after him in confusion. Deciding it would be best to leave him in privacy, she wandered into his room, sitting in the indention of where he had sat strumming his guitar. She looked down at the notebook, angling it towards her so she could read the words scribbled amongst the lines.
Kurt had written 'Beeswax' in capital letters at the top of the page, underlining it three times. Beneath that were the early beginnings of lyrics.
Why doesn't she need him for a father?
Not only maidens can occupy my shack
Goring my manhood turns a man off.
Like Pepe LePew would say,
Hey, hey, hey! -- then we clash!
Surrounding the lyrics were notes of chord progressions and other musical terminology, all written in Kurt's tiny writing. Amongst that were doodles, some of body parts, others of cartoonish figures with funny looking faces. She smiled slightly to herself. While someone ordinary may have looked at the notebook with bewilderment, Lindy found herself admiring Kurt's overflow of imagination. Crazy, unpredictable, and without limitations.
