"I don't have a flight booked," Lindy told the man. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."
"I don't believe so. Kurt was very specific in his instructions."
Lindy raised a single eyebrow. Either the guy was a really good actor, or Kurt actually knew him and had really sent a driver to Lindy's place with intentions on flying her out to god only knew where.
"Excuse me just a second," Lindy managed politely, holding up her finger and trying to squeeze past the man to her door. He obliged, moving away readily and allowing her inside.
Once Lindy dropped her things by the couch, she marched straight to her phone. Not having a direct number on hand to reach Kurt at, she decided to dial the one that Krist had last left with her only a day prior.
"You better pick up you little shit," Lindy muttered, raising the phone to her ear as the trill of the dial rang on the other end.
"Hello?" Krist said. He sounded tired.
"It's Lindy. Can you put Kurt on the phone? Now?"
"Oh, fuck. Let me guess. The driver showed up?"
Lindy huffed, close to snapping at Krist but choosing otherwise. He may have been in on the joke, but she was saving all of her venom for Kurt.
"Just put him on, please."
Krist did as told, and after a few minutes of shouting background voices and scuffling noises, Lindy heard Kurt's usual greeting through the receiver.
"Hi Linds."
"Kurt Cobain," Lindy began in a deadly serious tone. "Why the fuck —," she hissed, now spitting through her teeth, "is there a random guy standing at my door waiting to drive me to the airport?"
"You weren't supposed to call, it was going to be a surprise," Kurt whined, oblivious to Lindy's enraged command for an answer.
"Oh yes, because I was just going to hop in this strange man's car and go wherever with him. Be serious, Kurt. What the hell is going on?"
"I got you tickets to France. So you could come spend the night with me here and watch us perform."
Lindy, now stunned into losing the ability to speak, barely spluttered words from her lips upon hearing Kurt's reasoning behind his actions.
"WHAT? You want me to come to France?"
"Well, yeah. Just for a night though, I know you have work."
"Yes I have work! And I've never heard of anyone hopping on a plane to spend the night in a different country!"
Lindy was trying to keep her voice down for the sake of the innocent man outside, but she felt like the louder she yelled, the closer she'd be to waking up from the wild fever dream she was now in. There had been many strange things in her life, but an invitation to spend one night only in Europe had to be the strangest invite to a sleepover that she'd ever had.
"You don't have to come," Kurt said lightly, trying to stick to his promise to not to be angry with her when she could not make it to his gigs.
"It's not that I don't want to come," Lindy deadpanned. "It's just really sudden. It's . . . it's random as hell, Kurt."
It was the truth that Kurt's plan was outlandish, but then again, it was oh so typical of him to act on the moment, deciding on the most spontaneous plans. He was by no means bathing in endless money despite his fame, yet when he did have a wad of cash in his wallet, he was more than happy to spend it frivolously on Lindy.
"I know. I'm sorry," Kurt apologized, honesty weighing true in his words. He was getting harder to scold; like a sad puppy, Kurt was not someone you could simply yell at and then walk away from feeling good about yourself.
Sighing defeatedly, Lindy closed her eyes and tried to envision herself in France. She would have to call the hospital before she left. And she'd have to pack. What a person packed for France, she didn't know. So far, the farthest east that she'd ever been was New York.
"Okay, Kurt. I'll come."
"You will?" Kurt exclaimed happily.
"Yeah. But when I get there, I'm going to kill you for this."
"That's fine. Make the killing part fast, though. I love you."
"Love you," Lindy grumbled, slamming the phone down and biting her tongue to keep from screaming.
It took ordinary people years to plan cross-continental trips. Yet here she was, getting ready to hop on a flight that she'd had no idea had even been booked.
It was insanity, but it also invoked a flattering pleasure within Lindy. Kurt loved her enough to bring her halfway across the world just to be with him.
But then again, this couldn't have been all good news. Lindy assumed that he must have not been feeling well — that would only have given him more ammunition to bring her straight to France on a whim.
"Fuck," Lindy muttered.
"Er, miss . . . Lindy? Do you need time to prepare for your flight?"
The man, now Lindy's driver, called out to her from the doorway, having neglected to step inside. She'd left the door open when she'd charged towards her house phone. The driver was peeking in hesitantly.
How the hell am I going to tell Trae that I'm going to France? Lindy thought, silently praying that she'd have a window seat on the plane to sleep again through the strangeness of what was happening to her.
"Yes. I just have to make some phone calls and pack my bags and then we can go."
seventy-six.
Start from the beginning
