one-hundred-twenty-seven.

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           AS THE NIGHT drifted to a close, more of Kurt and Lindy's guests began to bid them goodbye and leave the party. The time was beginning to near eleven o'clock, and Lindy wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for the dwindling numbers in their group. She'd been having too much fun to realize that time was passing.

Before she knew it, all who was left under the large white tent was herself, Kurt, Frances, Charlie, Trae, Krist and Shelli. Allie had turned in for the night, juggling a sleeping Hannah as she excused herself from the fun in order to get her daughter home to bed. Lindy could not blame her, especially after all the work that Allie had put forth in making sure the wedding had gone perfectly.

They all sat around one of the white tables, the last traces of alcohol disappearing for the evening. Kurt, Lindy and Trae were the only ones who did not drink, and Lindy assumed this had to do with them being the only parents at the table. Charlie was snoozing, as usual, in Lindy's arms and Frances was completely knocked out in Kurt's, draped over his chest like a rag doll.

"Frances looks dead. Did you check her breathing?" Shelli asked, draining the remnants of her Miller Lite can.

Lindy scoffed. "She's not dead. She's exhausted. We danced all night."

It was true. Frances had made for a great dance partner, leading Lindy to devote a good two hours to spinning the little girl across the dance floor. And even after that, Frances had spent the rest of the evening chasing Breanne and Hannah around with the kind of energy that only small children had.

"I can't believe you guys danced," Krist said, tugging on his loosened tie and emphasizing the word 'danced' as if it were a swear word.

"Dave danced too," Kurt inserted, chuckling.

"Oh fuck, now that's something I need to erase from my memory," Krist groaned.

Lindy laughed, recalling the way Dave had thrashed around like he was at a rock concert to the music. The alcohol in his system had brought his inner confidence out, and he'd even danced with Lindy several times. She was surprised over just how good he was at whirling her around in a modified swing dance. 

"My favorite part was when you all played together," Lindy grinned.

In a moment of spontaneity, Kurt, Krist and Dave had all produced their instruments (Lindy guessed that one of them had snuck back into the house to get them) and played for everyone. They strayed from their own songs though, and instead entertained their modestly sized audience with covers of Creedence Clearwater Revival and Leadbelly songs. Even some of the other musically inclined guests had joined them, starting one big, improvised jam session. Lindy knew that nothing of such uniqueness would ever occur again. Nobody else would ever see all of the leading figures of grunge conglomerated together, playing as one.

"And Kurt didn't even smash a guitar once. I'm shocked," Krist said.

"It was a really, really great night. The best wedding we'll all ever go to," Trae said boldly, training his eyes on the tablecloth and tracing the outer rim of his water cup. He looked tired, but Lindy knew he was holding out for her. Any time he spent her with her was valuable, and this was a special occasion.

"I'm kind of sad that it's over," Lindy brooded, glancing out into the night. There was no light on the skyline and she could barely see the outline of the mountains. She looked down at her dress, vaguely disappointed that she had not appreciated it more during the time she'd gotten to wear it. 

"Oh!" Shelli gasped suddenly, flying forward in her chair. "What time is it?" she demanded.

"Er," Kurt said awkwardly, attempting to check his watch and not jostle Frances at the same time. "It's almost eleven. Why?"

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now