Rummage Sale Stories

Today I found my friends

Romance Smackdown info:
Kurt Donald Cobain and Stefanie Sargent
Hellhounds on my trail
Word Count: 5,400

I'm so happy 'cause today I found my friends. They're in my head.
-Kurt Cobain, Lithium

The first time I saw him, I assumed he was just some musician looking to get out of the cold. Bedraggled, his hair hanging in his face, as he strummed his guitar at the edge of the rarely used stage. This dive wasn't in the midst of the Seattle music scene. Not anymore.

He was playing old grunge songs, nothing revolutionary. I waited for a long while to approach him. He put away his guitar, waiting for friends who never showed. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. During a lull, I made my way over.

“Hey. How you doing? Need anything?”

"Eh,” he rumbled, “Can’t pay, and wouldn't matter anyway." His voice was gravely, a half-awake chain-smoker.

I laughed. "If a drink's no good, how 'bout some company? My tables are all settled. I can chat for a minute or two.” I leaned against the stage and he put down his guitar, slouching next to me. He was boyish despite his scruff. The smile he gave me, as small as it was had a sweetness.“You from around here?" I asked.

He gave me a sort of grimace, and I was sad to see the fleeting smile disappear. "Originally from Aberdeen," he explained. "But yeah, when I'm not traveling, this is pretty much home."

I knew the feeling, never having a place to settle. "Kind of the same, I'm from Yakima mostly, but got lucky with a scholarship to UW."

"Nice," he said, though there was still a hesitance. "Wish I'd finished school." He shrugged. "Wasn't really my thing." He sighed and added, “That, and mom kicked me out...”

"Damn nice guitar despite all that," I commented.

"Well, I've had a few good paying gigs. I screwed up, though.” He didn't seem to be telling a sob story. This was just how it was. “I had an amazing band, the best. Fucked it all up. Now, I just haunt these streets, wishing for Nirvana."

I laughed, catching the reference to the band that had brought the Seattle music scene to the forefront of a generation. "Nirvana, eh? You a fan?"

He was frowning, studying me. “Bunch of sellouts.”

“I dunno. Is it selling out or just grabbing an opportunity?” I shrugged. “If I had the choice between just playing for fun and playing for a living, can't say I'd make a different choice... I mean, if I played at all.” I was no musician, but I knew lots of people who did play.

“I'd rather have Hellhounds on my trail.”

I laughed then. “Not a fan of the music industry?”

“Or the trappings of fame.” He considered me for a long moment. "The name's Donald...” he gave me a sort of wince. “Don,” he corrected, “and I'll be here all night." The smile was back, sly and small, pleased with himself for making me laugh.

“Well, Don, I'm Flora.” I glanced back at my tables, catching sight of an empty glass. "Listen, I'll be back, but I've got a few tables to serve."

And that was it. I found him again at the end of my shift and he walked me home. We talked about religion. Don held quite a bit of bitter resentment for his own experiences with Christianity, knew a great deal about eastern philosophies.