Today I found my friends - Part 2
Don was like a lost puppy, waiting there by the stage. If he'd had a tail, it would have wagged the way he perked up when he saw me. I sighed, wondering what I'd gotten myself into with this guy. I motioned to the door with my head. The bar was even more of an eye sore in the light of day. He shouldered his ever present guitar, shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to the door.
“Sorry,” I said once we were outside. “I'll take the drizzle over being in that place any longer than necessary.”
“Oh,” he muttered, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “I didn't think it was that bad, fond memories, I guess.”
“Used to frequent the place, eh?” I asked. “It's just work to me.”
He nodded. “Yeah, some friends and I have played there on occasion, but more often we just watched other people play. Drank a lot.”
I shot him a suspicious glance. As far as I knew, no one had played there much in years. He hardly seemed old enough to remember a time before the music had died in that dive.
“Better times, huh?” I added for good measure.
He only nodded and shuffled along.
“Well, I've got a stack of text books, hope you're ready for a crash course.”
“Don't worry about teaching me. I'm here to help you study, right?”
I smiled and glanced at him. “I thought you were only doing this to get your own free anatomy class...”
His hands were thrust deep in his pockets, and he only shook his head. “Think I'm using you?”
“Nah,” I laughed, pulling out my keys. “Just can't figure out why you'd want to hang out on a Friday afternoon helping me study if there weren't some ulterior motive.”
“I dunno, I guess I do have an ulterior motive. Haven't had much company, or much to do lately. But lets pretend I'm helping you. Sounds better than admitting to being some guy in need of a friend.”
I let out a nervous little laugh I wasn't sure he caught. With a shiver I glanced up at the sky thick with clouds. The damp wasn't letting up and I would have to go get my books if we were to work in the over loud, over crowded coffee shop.
I studied him as we walked. I could trust him, right? Invite him up to my room, just prop the door open, and I'd be safe enough. The halls tended to have pretty high traffic this time of day. With any luck, Stef would drop in, scold me for having a stranger in my room.
I'd left the heat on and it was rather stuffy. Don took up a seat on my window sill, puffing away on a cigarette, the smoke drifting lazily to the ceiling, only some escaping through the open window. It was nice, his presence was quiet and unimposing. It was different than the way Stef seemed to fill the room, boisterous and laughing.
Once I had the texts laid out across the floor, jotting notes on a clipboard, he joined me, pouring over one of the illustrated texts.
“You mind?” he asked, pointing to it.
I shook my head and he flipped through the pages. I smiled. He wasn't much of a help, but I was glad to see him so immersed. After I'd gotten through a chapter, I paused. “You like that one, you should see the one I got for Christmas.”
“Oh?” he asked, his head still bowed over the book.
I chewed on the end of my pen. “Yeah, it's an anatomy coloring book. Don't have time to mess with it much myself, but if you like...”
“You want me to check out a coloring book?”
I laughed. “Its not what you think, not a kids coloring book. Look on the shelf over there, it's the boxed set. There's a set of colored pencils there too, you're welcome to color it if you like.”
“Where is it?” he asked, standing at the shelf as if hesitant to touch anything. After a long moment, he took it down along with the set of pencils. He sat back down beside me, book open on the floor beside him. After flipping through it, he chuckled.
“Clever. Interactive sort of introduction to the human body, isn't it?” He had the pages open to the reproductive system, and I grinned. Such a guy thing to do. He pulled out a few pencils and began to color inside the lines, carefully, precisely.
I nodded. “I really like it, but I can't seem to find time to mess with it. Too consumed by class work...”
“Speaking of, shouldn't I be quizzing your or something?”
“Yeah, in a bit,” I muttered, “Gotta finish up this. I'll let you quiz me on my notes, I guess.”
The quizzing never happened. He colored page after page, as if a man possessed. Therapeutic, I guess. I got up to stretch, and he glanced up at me, and then flipped back through the book. He'd colored a good portion.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly and I only shook my head.
“It's fine, really.” Going to my fridge, I pulled out the drinks chilling there. “No work tonight. Care to go up to the roof?” I nodded to the window. “Looks like we've got a few hours of daylight left, and it's cleared off. Hate to waste the little bit of sun we've got.”
So we found ourselves on the roof, sitting around the damp ashes of the fire-pit. Don's ever present cigarette dangling from his lips, a bottle from his hand, slouching in the moldy lounge chair. I perched on stool, elbows on knees as he told me of his favorite books and celebrities. It was nice to relax and just listen.
As the sun was setting over the water, creating an almost painfully bright glare across the rooftop, Stef made her entrance.
“See, I told you I'm easily replaced.” She muttered in my ear. I jumped, unaware of her approach. “Egh, though. Kurt, what are you doing here?”
I glanced from her to Don, and shook my head. “No, Stef, this is Don, I told you about him...”
“Oh, I know who he is. A fucking liar, is what he is. Flora, this is Kurt. Surprised you didn't recognize him.”
Don put his head in his hand. “Come on, Stefanie. Can't I at least have my anonymity back in death?” he groaned.
“And let you take advantage of the naivety of my friend? I don't think so.” Stef stood over him now, arms crossed, defiant in all her scruffy party girl fury.
“So, I take it you know each other?” I put in. I should have known. It seemed like all the musicians in this town ran into each other eventually.
Stef whirled on me. “You really don't know who he is?”
I shook my head slowly. “No... should I?”
She laughed bitterly, and turned back to Don, or Kurt as she called him. “Should I tell her?”
He shook his head slowly, sadly. “Stef, you know how hard it is to find someone I can talk to...”
She shook her head, “No, don't go playing the pity card with me. I found her first. You got everything you wanted and it wasn't ever good enough. You're not going to fuck with Flora.”
“Okay,” I snapped, “That's enough. I have no idea what you two are talking about, but neither of you own me.” I turned to Stef. “You're my friend, and that won't change.” I then pointed to Don. ”And you, if you lied to me...” I shook my head. “I don't know what this is about, but starting with a lie, doesn't sit well with me.”
He shrugged and stood. “My real name is Kurt, okay? Kurt Cobain.” He crossed his arms, staring at me defiantly. My mouth dropped open. I looked to Stef, and she grinned, Cheshire wide. I laughed. It was absurd.
“You two are messing with me,” I shook my head.
Don shook his head and settled back into his chair, a small smile gracing his scruffy features.
“I mean, you do look like him. I couldn't place it, but I see it now.”
He said nothing. I turned to Stef. Her smile had dissolved to smirk.
“You're such an idiot,” she said with a laugh, ruffling my hair. “Go get me one of those hard ciders you like so much.”
“I am not. And go get it yourself,” I scowled.
“Your door is locked.”
“Never stopped you before.”
“Just go,” she urged.
I sighed and gave in, making my way to the door to the stairs. I reached for the handle, and yelped when I found a couple on the other side, just as startled as I was. “Sorry,” I laughed.
The young man chuckled. “Don't worry about it, saves me the effort of finding the right key.”
“I know, right? It's always the last one I try.”
“The fire going up there?” The girl asked, and I shook my head.
“I'll grab a dry bundle on my way back up,” I offered, and slipped past them.
By the time I returned, bundle of wood held by the twine in one hand, bottle in the other, I found only the pair I'd encountered at the door. “A couple of my friends were up here,” I told them as I pulled apart the wood and began stacking it in the pit. “They mention where they were going?”
The girl gave me an odd look and shook her head. “You were the only one up here when we came up,” she said slowly.
I laughed, “No, no. Stef was up here. She lives on the third floor. And my friend, Don...”
The girl furrowed her brow and gave her boyfriend a glance. “There's no Stef on the third floor. We've been here for years.”
“Did she tell you to say that?” I laughed. “She's been pulling my leg all day.”
The man came to my side, taking the wood from me and arranging it in the pit.
She shook her head, “I swear. No one was here, and we've never met a Stef who lives on the third floor.”
The fire blazed to life and she slipped into place beside her boyfriend, avoiding my eye. They whispered to one another and I stared at the flames. I couldn't figure why Stef and Don would would have left me up here all alone or why I wouldn't have seen them in the hall on the way up. I was only in the apartment for a minute.
I popped the top from the bottle and took a sip. “Well, thanks anyway,” I said, and turned back to the stairs.
When I reached my room, it was exactly as I'd left it. Empty. I stood over the pile of open books and took another long drink. The growing buzz felt good, though it didn't help clear my mind.
I sighed. It was better to be relaxed, considering what I knew I'd likely have to wrap my mind around. I just couldn't believe it. Not now. Not again, not after all this time.
I noticed the anatomy coloring book was back on the shelf. I didn't remember Don putting it back. I took it down. It felt heavy, like the knot in my stomach.
Flipping through the pages, I found the reproductive section with ease. The pages were stark black and white, not a color to be seen. I turned page after page, colorless and plain. No evidence that our quiet afternoon together had in fact ever been.
I should have known. The signs were there. I'd gotten too comfortable. I thought I'd learned my lesson. I finished my drink and collapsed on my bed. I hated to cry, and yet cry I did.
Stef came to me a few hours into my misery, a sweet whisper in my ear. “I've always gotta come back.”
I covered my ears with my hands, shaking my head furiously. “No,” I choked. “You don't.”
“Gone too fast.”
I sat up, barely resisting the urge to scream. Stef sat beside me, grinning.
“I'm caring about the truth...” She continued her sing-song.
“What truth, Stef? What truth is there? You're a figment of my mind, a piece of my own insanity. Just like Don, or Kurt, or whatever name it suits my subconscious to call him.”
“I promised you a goodbye .” She leaned in and kissed my forehead. It was icy, bitterly cold. “Can I sing you one last song before I go?”
I collapsed back on the bed, burying my head in the pillows. She didn't wait for me to answer. Just started playing and singing in her raspy voice. She was no great vocalist, but the words were bittersweet.
“There is a silence that paces us all/It's sensitive to the peace that we've known...”
I sat up and wiped my face, listening. I couldn't help it. She'd brought me comfort and so much more. If this was insanity, I wasn't sure I wanted to be sane.
“I wrap you precious around my soul/and now I'm letting you go...”
She strummed her final chord and gave me one last smile. “And now, I'm letting you go...” she repeated.
And with that, she faded. She'd said her goodbye, just has she'd promised.
* * *
It wasn't until months later that my world was rocked yet again by Stef's legacy. During the spring break chaos, I found myself weaving from room to room, listening to drunken stories. I gravitated towards the musicians, missing my colorful, dread-locked friend.
“So, you know, there was this girl, a musician, who died in a room on the third floor.”
I froze, straining to hear the next bit of conversation.
“Oh, come on, I'm sure plenty of people who have died in this building,” a girl laughed.
“No, no, this chick was like, almost famous,” the original speaker continued. “She was from this grunge band. It was a big deal. Stefanie... Stefanie something. Damn...” he muttered.
Another young man filled in. “Yeah, Seven Year Bitch. Punk, not grunge. And they're okay. They played with The Gits. Now that's a damned good band. Tragic too. You've heard that story, right?”
I leaned against the wall, taking long, slow breaths. There was no way. Just no way.
The know-it-all hipster continued on behind me. “The singer from The Gits, she was raped and murdered like, only a few blocks down from here. Somewhere by Denny, I think. Went unsolved...”
I shook my head and stumbled on. I couldn't listen to another word. I saw things, it was schizophrenia. Horrible, disturbing and difficult, but explainable. I hated the medications, so I hid it. And I thought I hid it well. I did not see dead people. That had been a joke. Hadn't it?
My heart ached at the realization, the possibility. I didn't have time for it. Not with school. Not with scholarships on the line, not with my debt growing. Stef was gone, for better or for worse, friend or foe.
* * *
I saw Kurt again from time to time. It was never as it had been. He'd follow me home from time to time, or give me sad glances from that decaying stage. I never approached him, and he never went out of his way to find me.
The last time I saw him, I was working with children at the University of Washington as part of my graduate program. He watched with that soft, half-cocked smile of his as I waved good bye to a two year old little girl.
I took a break and wandered to the tree where he leaned.
“So you still see me,” he said softly.
I nodded and held my phone to my ear. I couldn't look crazy, not in front of patients. “You and others from time to time,” I told him.
“So I take it you know who I really am?”
I shrugged. “I prefer Don, but sure, I know who you were.”
“Is that why you avoid me?”
I smiled, tears pricking at my eyes. “No,” I managed. “Not at all. But I can't be seen talking to things that one else can see, now can I?”
“Not even while pretending to be on the phone?” he tried.
“No,” I said with a sigh. “It's... It's just not meant to be. You've got to let go.”
He nodded, and it was as if that was all he needed to hear. Closure.
* * *
Author's Note:
Written for the Romance Smackdown, Love is Dead round, Jan. 2014
Dead musicians used: Kurt Donald Cobain and Stefanie Sargent
Song Used: Hellhounds on My Trail. Various lyrics from the song were used throughout, as well as the title. These lyrics are italicized.
Also used was the song "Seaweed" by The Gits, a tribute to Stefanie Sargent.
Other thoughts:
I currently live in Seattle and was a teen through the Grunge movement. It influenced a lot of how I think and set the tone to my most impressionable years. That being said, I knew very little about the actual Seattle grunge scene and had to research a great deal over a short period of time to hope to do these musicians some justice.
I scoured the web for anything regarding Stefanie Sargent, and as much as those she knew were impacted by her death, there is little information about her. I did the best I could with bits and pieces I found in the Babes in Toyland book where she was mentioned, and the few obituaries still available.
Though she died tragically, I got the feeling she wasn't a tragic character. She seemed boisterous and alive, smiling and friend to everyone. Her unfortunate death wasn't one of a junkie. She was a dabbler more than an addict, if you can say that about a heroine user.
Mia Zapata of the Gits wrote a poignant tribute to Stefanie, titled Seaweed. I included a few of the lyrics in this piece, which Stefanie used to tell Flora goodbye. The full lyrics are included below, and the song can listened to under the media link to the right.
Since her death was a tragic accident, I tend to think she would have felt a great deal of guilt over the pain she caused her friends. It seemed fitting to use Mia's song to tell Flora goodbye, giving at least one of her friends closure in a way she was unable to do in life.
Tragically, almost a year to the date of Stefanie's death, her friend Mia Zapata of The Gits was beaten, raped and strangled not far from their usual hangout.
Kurt Cobain was notably easier to find information on. He seemed to be such a sad, sweet and lonely person. Watching him in backstage clips, he was the one sitting in the back, watching everyone else. He even admitted to wanting to be a drummer because while he wanted to be in a band, in music, he didn't want the attention.
I tried to portray him as such, a lost soul looking for a connection to someone, something.
I also tend to think that even in death he probably still felt trapped and guilty. So many people wanted a piece of him. While he may have wanted to give of himself, everyone wanted too much. I think, even in death, he likely still carried a great deal of guilt. Courtney Love's comments at his memorial, while understandable, wouldn't help him to move on in peace. I tend to think a soul like his would seek out and want permission to move on after that.
Flora
There were actually several pages about Flora which I edited out for the sake of keeping the narrative tight. I imagined her being the child of a migrant worker from the agricultural Yakima valley. She grew up poor, translating for her parents and caring for her younger siblings.
At a young age, she realized she was different when she started talking to a lonely girl in her class. She eventually realized that her new friend was lonely because no one else could see her. Thankfully, Flora's family soon moved, but she was left to cope with the fact that she could see things others couldn't.
Afraid to tell her religious family, she researched on her own, discovering the answer she sought, schizophrenia.
Hellhounds on My Trail
The lyrics of this song were so hard to work into the piece, though I feel they fit the mood well enough. Both of my ghosts definitely had their own struggles, their own demons. Much of the Hellhounds lyrics seemed to fit with Kurt Cobain's story.
The media, the music industry and the trappings of fame seem to be Hellhounds, chasing down and devouring any vulnerable artist and sucking them dry. I tried to hint at this feeling through my side story about visiting Bruce Lee's grave, a true story, by the way, and Kurt's attitude towards his fame.
Hellhounds on My Trail
Children of Bodom
Watching the c*nt
But before I'm into worries
I do better think fast
Step beyond the legs
Risk selfdestruction
One more sucker
Wait again
To the wrong turn
To the right direction
Too many fucking gonna turn
Going too fast
When you call me outrageous
As a questioner
No feelings - you destroy me HATE
We're welcome - we're on this show END
What the hell was that?
It's a battle name
Tied down everything long before
Blaming all the suckers
I don't give fuck
Till they're coming down
Where I go
Or he's gonna stop me
And when I hear the voice
So you better take care of me now
Knowing that I've always gotta come back
Till the end of life has arrived
Things happen while I grow
No one to catch my fall
Becoming dull is all I know
Resurrection - friend or a foe
No feelings - you destroy me HATE
We're welcome - we're on this show END
Gone too fast
I'm caring about the truth
So tell me how
Fuck me sideways
I've been loved before right now
After I've been down
Well if you don't need to
Resurrect a shadow of myself
No feelings - you destroy me HATE
We're welcome - we're on this show END
No feelings - you destroy me HATE
We're welcome - we're on this show
Remember me, seventeen
Come on, get you going
Have I told you I would return
Come on, get you going
Gotta get on the way
But the butcher
You're allowed to lie
I disapprove my body
Eat my dinner
You dull stupid role model
Who's about to rock
Things happen while I grow
No one to catch my fall
Becoming dull is all I know
Resurrection - friend or a foe
Friend or a foe
Seaweed
The Gits
There is a silence that paces us all
It's sensitive to the peace that we've known
And if I could take that crevice in me
I'd fill it up with all that you bleed
I was walking into the water
and I was trying not to breathe
I could feel the current pulling
and I just kept in deeper
I'm sick of the pain that you're feeling
It's weighing you down
If I could erase it all within just one dive
I wrap you precious around my soul
and now I'm letting you go
as I drown these evil spirits and penetrate the obstacles
I feel the seaweed creeping up my skin
It's like a monster that's reaching for me
with the passion of life I've got left
i'm gonna use it to sacrifice myself
well, I dove down into the seaweed
Scared once before, but not anymore
As it twists and turns me away from the surface
Here's my chance of letting it go
I'm sick of the pain that I'm feelin
It's weighing me down
If I could erase it all
within just one fuckin' dive
I wrap you precious around my soul
and now I'm letting you go
as I drown these evil spirits
and penetrate the obstacles