MARIGOLD // Dave Grohl

X: Jesus Playing Guitar for Some Cats 1994 Colorized

Seattle, WA

May 21, 1994

A little more than a week had gone by and Sarah was painting for the first time since she left New York for the funeral. She had expected to feel at peace, feel like a piece of her had been restored, feel as if she was becoming one with herself once again, yet she still felt empty. She couldn't quite put her finger on it-- something was missing.

For sure, she was not prepared to start any kind of relationship, whether it be with Paul, or a random person off the street. She concluded that her judgment was clouded with never ending grief. Since the revelation of Paul's identity and connection to Courtney, Sarah steered clear from him every time he would call. She didn't want to risk getting involved with him, as sweet and gorgeous as he was. Part of Sarah felt guilty for leaving Paul hanging. She was frustrated. She wanted, nay, craved affection. Oftentimes she would think to herself that she would never find anybody who could truly understand her and value her.

And then there was Dave. He was that. And that scared the shit out of Sarah.

Her soul returned to earth as she realized that she was painting Dave playing her guitar that she had given to him a few minutes after this exact moment. His strong, calloused hands gripping the frets, his shoulders slightly hunched as his long brown hair obscured his face, sunlight shining through the window with her cats sitting at his feet. She paused to stare at the painting for a solid five minutes, contemplating whether she should frame it or burn it. Before she could make a decision, her phone was ringing, flashing Dave's phone number on the tiny green screen. She jumped up from her seat, palette nearly clattering to the floor but saved just in the nick of time. That would have been a disaster.

She took a deep breath before picking up the phone.

"Greetings," she heard Dave say. A couple seconds went by without a response from Sarah, probably because she was staring at the painting that was burning holes into her eyeballs.

"Uh... hello?"

"Hey, Dave," Sarah exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath for that whole time.

"You doing okay?" he asked, and she tried her best to hold in her sarcastic laugh.

Yeah, just painting a picture of you that makes you look like Jesus holding a guitar. But that's fine. "Yeah, just painting."

"Oh, that's awesome!" Dave exclaimed. "What of?"

Sarah shook her head, "Nothing important, just some abstract stuff." She glanced over at the painting for a second time, "It captures a feeling more than anything else."

She heard Dave smiling through the phone as he told her, "I love that for you."

"Thanks," she replied, pulling her eyes away from the painting, trying to think of something, anything else to talk about to draw her attention away from the fact that her feelings were slowly eating away at her.

"So..." Dave began, then trailed off into nothingness. The awkwardness was unbearable.

"So-- coffee?" Sarah threw the idea out there, immediately face-palming.

"Yup, sounds like a plan," Dave replied quickly, regretting his quick response. He could've sounded too desperate.

"Time? Place?"

"In half an hour, Anchorhead?"

"Alright, see you then."

Dave hung up and immediately groaned in embarrassment. If they were going to be each other's support systems, they could not let the possibility of liking one another interfere. If Sarah even liked him back. He could be making this entire thing up in his head. But for the past few weeks they had definitely been flirting, no doubt about that.

He stood up from his spot on his bed and began pacing around his new apartment. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn't have gotten this place in Tacoma. Even though his apartment was on the south end, Sarah's was on the north end. She'd probably think he was some kind of stalker. Great impression, you blithering idiot, he thought to himself.

He walked into the bathroom and flipped the light switch on, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. He hadn't shaved in a week, and he was beginning to grow a stubble-ish beard kind of thing, which was not the move. He looked like a man-child. In a frenzied fashion, he pulled his razor and shaving cream out of the cabinet behind the mirror, proceeding to shave his face to look... even more like a man-child.

"Oh god..." he muttered, his expression being one of horror, before shaking his head in denial in order to avoid overthinking everything he did, as per usual. He grabbed his denim jacket and walked out the door, locking it behind him.

***

"So, how've you been doing?" Dave asked, taking a giant gulp of his large coffee with three extra shots of espresso. This man was asking for a heart attack.

"I've been doing well," Sarah started, "the new apartment is great. I'm starting to sell some commissions so I guess it's going really well."

Dave cocked an eyebrow. "You guess?"

"Well, I don't know, I'm doing well in terms of lifestyle but I'm not totally sure if I'm happy," Sarah admitted, pulling a piece of hair away from her face before sipping her chai latte slowly. Dave nodded.

"Yeah, I understand. Like, I'm doing well financially for the most part, right up to the time when Courtney gained all the rights to Nirvana," Dave rolled his eyes, making Sarah frown in sympathy. "And my new place is pretty cool, and--"

"Wait, you found a place?" Sarah cut Dave off, and the blood immediately drained out of his face. He let it fucking slip, there was no getting out of this now--

"Yeah, it's a really nice space on the south end of Tacoma," he told her, unsure of how he was capable of putting together coherent sentences. "I was inspired to get out of that hotel when I helped you move."

And there was the smile that made him melt inside. "That's awesome! I'm so happy for you!" Sarah rested her face on her palm, elbow on the table.

"Yeah, things are really starting to fall into place," Dave said, "but I agree with you that I'm not entirely fulfilled yet. I think it has to do with music."

"Yeah, it's been a while since you've done a gig, right?" Sarah replied, and Dave grimaced.

"Mmhmm. Not like I was in any shape to do a gig right after Kurt died, but I miss writing stuff, too." He looked up and saw a glint in her eyes, and a smirk on her face.

"There's no shame in trying."

Dave shook his head. "But I don't want it to blow up immediately because of my involvement in Nirvana. I just want to be in it for the music." Sarah's mind immediately reverted to that one clip she had seen on MTV of Kurt huddled up with the rest of the band for an interview, laughing alongside Krist and Dave; It's all in the music, man! It's all in the music! It's all in the meat! Following that bittersweet flashback, she refocused on the current and glanced up to gain complete eye contact with Dave.

"Well, I bet you'll make a killer record with whatever alias you choose."

Dave smiled, reaching out to hold Sarah's hand in his, his thumb running over her palm. "Thanks, hon."