False Starts || Dave Grohl

Chapter 58

"Good Grief"

February 3, 1997

Los Angeles, CA

Dave places my duffle at the foot of his bed, giving the room a once over before rising his arms like any host in a movie would when presenting something outstanding to a guest. "Welcome to Casa De Grohl. Laundry is free and the fridge is stocked with enough food to feed a family of thirty. The bathroom is right there, and I just cleaned the bed sheets so don't worry about that."

My eyes scan over the bare blue walls that had obviously been painted over recently. Dave had yet to decorate which isn't shocking since he just moved, but I expected there to at least be boxes rolling around with pictures or something. We've gone over most of the apartment and I've yet to see anything other than a stray acoustic guitar in the living room.

When my eyes land on Dave, he's already staring back at me, scratching the back of his neck in an awkward silence. With the way I've been eyeing everything since we walked in, he probably thinks I'm scrutinizing his choice of living. "It's very you if I'm being honest."

"Why do you say that?" When his arms cross over his chest it's like I'm taken back ten years. Rather than staring at a twenty-eight-year-old version, I'm staring at the eighteen-year-old I fell in love with all those years ago.

Swallowing hard I peel my eyes away and lock onto a single photograph stationed at the end of his dresser. It took a moment for my eyes to focus on the couple laughing together, but my long blue hair was unmistakable.

1992...

Nirvana had just finished a kick ass set in Dublin.

Shelli and I were casually drinking cans of some European style beer, laughing and carrying on about god knows what until Dave swooped in out of thin air, throwing me over his shoulder to spin me around. I thought I was going to kick someone with the way I started thrashing around, but thankfully no bystanders were harmed.

The photograph had been taken as he placed me back on the ground. My eyes were closed but a bright smile was visible as I pushed hair away from my face. Dave's eyes practically sparkled as he smiled down at me, reminding me of one word.

Adoration.

In that moment, I hadn't even noticed the way he was looking at me. My mind having been taken up with other information that seemed more pressing at the time. Now though, as I stare at the creased photograph, I can't help but feel my heart break all over again.

This was the day that killed us. The day Kurt gifted me that godforsaken journal with intimate and delicately thought out sentences, making me realize that my feelings for the blond singer were more than lustful.

"Dublin-"

"1992. You guys played The Point Depot with The Breeders and Teenage Fanclub..."

"Yeah."

I grip the black frame tightly as I continue to stare down at it, feeling Dave's presence creep up from behind me as he stares over my shoulder. "I had met Jennifer right before we left for that tour. She was an intriguing weirdo. Younger than both of us, but god she was so fucking cool Rose."

Hearing him talk about his ex-wife this way was the twist of the knife. All these years, I've tried to make myself believe that he married her out of spite, but in the end, he really did love her.

"She was everything I wanted in a girl Rose," Dave backed up, so his full weight was against the dresser as he faced me. "But she could never make me smile the way you did... do. Krist came to the wedding, he asked me if I was sure I wanted to go through with it. Instead of listening to his advice though, I downed a line of shots and fuck... I saw you coming down that aisle instead. It made everything so much easier to deal with."