DECEMBER 23rd, 1991, SPRINGFIELD VA
IT TURNED OUT that spending the Christmas holiday in Virginia was an even happier plan than Reagan had expected. She'd initially bargained on feeling probable guilt over not being with her family, especially after they'd somewhat made peace with each other, but being with Dave's mom did wonders for that irritating guilt.
From the moment Reagan and Dave had set foot on Virginian soil, they'd been religiously waited on by a gushing Ginny. Upon picking them both up from the airport, Dave's mom had gotten teary-eyed, hugging Reagan first before Dave as they'd exited their terminal.
"I'm standing right here," Dave had said, aghast as he watched his petite mother, the same woman who had never denied him a second of her attention, cradle Reagan.
"A baby girl," she had enthused, her eyes watering over. "Oh, Reagan!"
Lisa had shared a similar reaction once the homecoming caravan arrived back at Ginny's house. Charging out the front door in blue jeans and a bandana over her dark hair, Lisa had sidestepped Dave and gone straight for Reagan, just as Ginny had.
"Thank GOD you're giving me a niece!" Lisa had cried, nearly toppling Reagan over. Reagan laughed, clutching her sister-in-law's arm and steadying herself.
"Lees, careful," Dave had interjected, his eyes darting worriedly towards Reagan.
"Oh stop, she's not a porcelain doll David," Lisa scoffed.
"She's carrying precious cargo. She might as well be suited up with duct tape and labeled as 'fragile'," Dave had insisted back.
"I am not fragile," Reagan retorted, cinching her eyebrows together.
"There's my girl," Dave laughed, never unable to simper over Reagan's fiery streak.
And so had begun their memorable second stay with Ginny in North Springfield. They were able to do more than the last time they'd visited, especially in light of all the Christmas festivities going on around town. Reagan had nearly seen enough Christmas light-adorned houses to be blinded just by the sight of any twinkling bulbs.
Lisa had taken it upon herself to lead Reagan around every spot in Springfield where a young Dave had once dwelled. With every new location, Lisa never failed to mention that Dave had once smoked pot there. Dave was quick to correct her on whether or not her facts were accurate.
"You definitely snuck out once to smoke in this park, Dave."
"No, I did not. That was at the skate park."
Reagan had dutifully played third wheel to their spirited bantering, giggling at the natural sibling-like chemistry between them. Evenings spent at Ginny's dinner table were even more of a laugh — Dave's mother had a sweet, silly sense of humor that flourished in the presence of her two kids. On more than one occasion, Reagan had almost snorted sips of water out of her nose while listening to the three of them rib each other.
Over a meal of spaghetti, (Ginny had become acutely aware of just how much her daughter-in-law enjoyed her recipe) conversational talk of baby names came arose.
"Tell us what you've thought up," Lisa had said eagerly, sitting perched across the table from Reagan. "I'm dying to know."
"Maybe they want to keep it a secret," Ginny had offered. She'd given Reagan an understanding smile, her intuition already onto the fact that the two new parents had not brought up any potential names.
"It's not really a secret," Reagan had said, exchanging a look with Dave before shyly twirling more spaghetti around the prongs of her fork.
"Yeah, we don't mind telling," Dave added, cracking one of his usual big smiles. He'd turned to Reagan, nodding at her. "You can do the honors."
Reagan had inhaled deeply, knowing that the prospect of Ginny and Lisa liking the baby's name was a rather huge deal. They were both great enough to pretend to like the name even if they hated it, but she would have preferred their wholehearted approval.
"We decided on Gracie," she'd said. "No middle name yet. Just Gracie for now. Gracie Grohl."
"Oh my god," Lisa had exclaimed, almost shooting up out of her seat with excitement. "I love it!"
"It's so beautiful," Ginny chimed in, appearing emotional as she looked back and forth between Reagan and Dave with a trembling, happy smile.
The announcement of little Gracie's name had only enhanced the mood around Dave's childhood home. In the first week that Reagan and Dave were there, Lisa hardly left and Ginny was at their side constantly. At one point, Ginny had apologized with an embarrassed laugh, suggesting that Dave and Reagan probably wanted more alone time given Nirvana's ceaseless touring schedule.
"Don't be sorry," Reagan had replied immediately. "We want more than anything to be with you and Lisa right now."
"Oh but even then, we've taken you away from your family this Christmas," Ginny had frowned, surmising another reason to apologize in her typical genial way.
"No you haven't. You are my family," Reagan had assured her, leaning across the space between them to boldly take Ginny's hand with a smile.
"You've got to stop making my mom cry," Dave had later groaned as he and Reagan walked up the stairs, retiring to bed for the night in preparation for another long day.
"I'm not actually making her upset, right?" Reagan had asked, suddenly alert with fear.
"No," Dave grinned. "You're just making her exceptionally happy, with a bit of waterworks on the side."
Reagan looked away bashfully, though she allowed Dave to lope his arm around her waist as they walked towards her bedroom. Now that they were married, they had smoothly transitioned into being able to sleep in the same room without feeling guilty for Ginny's sake. It wasn't exactly comfortable though — Dave's bed (still clad in their Star Wars sheets) was hardly big enough for the two of them.
"I still feel bad," Reagan had sighed.
"Why? You haven't done anything wrong."
"Technically, I have. We both have. All your mom and sister have talked about is the baby, us being married, or wanting to plan some fancy second wedding in the future. We've barely even mentioned the fact that you're in an acclaimed band now."
"Ooh. Big words."
"Dave, I'm serious. You're on MTV almost every day, but yet I'm still stealing the spotlight from you."
"C'mon, you know you like it!"
Reagan had narrowed her eyes, standing by Dave's bed and staring at him with a 'can-you-stop-now' look on her face. He had surrendered with a laugh and grab of her hand, pulling her to him.
"Reags, seriously, don't even worry about that shit. It's not like I'm dying to talk about it anyways. I hear about it enough during the interviews, and I've lived it almost every night now for three months. It's the last thing on my mind."
"How can it be the last thing on your mind when it's your life now?"
Dave kissed her forehead and smiled proudly. While standing in the middle of his childhood bedroom, the expression on his face made him seem even younger than he really was. Reagan liked those moments where she could see glimpses of youth in his face, like he was immortal and confined to being young, witty and boyish forever.
"Because you and Peanut — er, sorry, Gracie, are the first."
Somewhere throughout all their increasingly good times, Dave had dropped an unexpected bomb on Reagan that had left her feeling like a writhing mass of nerves. He had told her that during their stay in Virginia, he wished to take her to Washington D.C., where he finally intended to introduce her to his father.
When she'd first heard him, Reagan had been convinced that she'd actually misinterpreted what Dave had said. But she had in fact heard him clearly. According to Dave's personal feelings, as well as some gentle chiding from Ginny, it was apparently high time James Grohl meet his daughter-in-law.
The ride to D.C. had been agonizing, mostly because Reagan had little to no idea how to approach meeting James. Dave had always been so vague about him, skirting around any details concerning his dad that were not major. Strangely, Dave had been calm and collected, singing along to the radio and patting Reagan's hand when she started to gnaw on her lower lip.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Reagan had asked, her voice sounding borderline shrill as they'd arrived at James's home.
"Better than keeping you and the baby from him any longer," Dave insisted. "Look, it's not like I haven't spoken to him. He knows what's going on."
"Yeah, with you and Nirvana!" Reagan hissed. "Not that you're going to be a father!"
"Well . . . I might have told him that part already. Just to break the ice, you know? We had a pretty long phone call about it."
"Oh. So he's not getting a two-for-one special announcement today?"
"Nope. I saved you there."
Despite her preconceived notions about James and the kind of father that he'd been to Dave, Reagan's first meeting with the mystery man had been surprisingly pleasant. Her opening impression of him was that he was quiet but still seemingly stern, with eyes that were calculating but also somehow warm. She also noted that instead of hugging Dave hello, he'd shaken his hand.
"Dad," Dave had begun, clapping his father on the back and stepping aside. "This is Reagan."
Anxiously, Reagan had shuffled her feet forward and managed a kind smile. She'd hurriedly tucked her hair behind her ears, faintly remembering that Kimberly had once told her that she looked more presentable that way.
"Hi, sir," she'd greeted, outstretching her palm. "It's very nice to meet you."
James Grohl wasted no time accepting her handshake and looking directly into her eyes. It was as if he was learning all he needed to know about Reagan just by studying her mutely, squinting slightly as he did so. It was with relief that Reagan noticed his face relax into a fatherly smile after a few seconds.
"It's very nice to meet you as well, young lady. You may call me Jim."
Dave had rolled his eyes at that one, but altogether diligently guided his dad and Reagan's first meeting along. He'd filled in any gaps of silence with his peppy chatter and bragged about Reagan's job, insinuating that she might have been the smartest woman in the world though she highly disagreed.
"His job is way more exciting than mine," Reagan had said, jerking her thumb in Dave's direction.
Jim had laughed at her remark and from then on out, Reagan's unease was considerably lessened.
Perhaps the most endearing moment of their several-hours long interaction was when Jim, enlightened by the news of Gracie's due date and recently bestowed name, almost looked as if he could cry. There was no secret that he was over the moon to be a grandfather and by the end of the meeting, Reagan witnessed Jim hug Dave tightly out on his way out.
Those past few weeks had been wonderful. They'd been more than wonderful even, more akin to something out of a dream than reality. And that is just why Reagan could presently not figure out how to slow her racing mind and fall asleep.
She sat up in the darkness of Dave's room, sardined so close to him that touching was inescapable — not that she minded.
Carefully, Reagan slipped out of bed and tucked the sheets back around Dave, who was flopped over on his stomach. His hair partially covered his face, but fluttered lightly against his mouth every time he exhaled. With light footsteps, she grabbed her jacket near her suitcase and left the room. Once she'd crept quietly down the stairs, she made her way for the front of the house before heading outside.
The air was cold, but nothing Reagan wasn't already used to. As she sidled out through the front door and shut it gently, she saw a fresh layer of snow on the ground, coating the grass and trees like frosty icing. Moonlight bounced off of the sheer white spectacle, forming a very picturesque scene. She stayed close to the front of Ginny's house, hugging an area of shadows by the door that kept her out of sight and allowed her to be alone with her thoughts.
While it was a beautiful night, the environment was nowhere near close to reflecting the things tumbling round and round in Reagan's mind, keeping her from sleep. She wasn't used to allowing herself those moments to turn her thoughts over, to lay them bare and evaluate them without trying to dodge the consequences of doing so.
At the heart of her sudden discomfort was the truth that she was still looking for the bad amongst all of the good in her life. Reagan was beginning to feel that no matter how perfectly things turned out, there was always going to be something sinister hiding behind those causes for celebration. It was her fatal flaw. Her Achilles heel. She couldn't stop trying to find the bad in everything.
She didn't feel as if she could necessarily be blamed for her sentiment. Her life was, in no uncertain terms, perfect. Maybe not dictionary-definition perfect, but perfect in the way that she'd once secretly dreamed of it becoming.
She had Dave, for one. She wholeheartedly believed in his love for her. He was capable of expressing it through both his words and actions, a feat no other man seemed to have accomplished elsewhere. He could look at her for one passing moment with so much love in his coffee-colored eyes that anyone else in the room would feel it too and immediately leave to give them both space. His devotion to her was so discernible that she didn't even have reason to suspect him of being unfaithful to her on tour. Well, that and Kurt's ever-watchful eye — he cared plainly for Reagan too, and would have never let Dave go behind her back even if he'd wanted to.
And then there was her new family. Lisa, who had accepted her so warmly that Reagan was half-convinced that they'd been sisters in a past lifetime. Her father-in-law, who had appraised her for a mere second before determining her to be more than likable and suitable for his son. And of course Ginny, sweet Ginny, who doted on Reagan lovingly and never questioned the accelerated pace at which her and Dave's relationship had blossomed. With every new batch of startling news, Ginny only seemed to adore Reagan more, never stopping for a moment to doubt Dave's bond with her.
That was fairytale enough in itself. Who had it that easy? Who else in the world had ever been embraced so quickly and fully by the love they'd always waited for — a soulmate, maybe — and their family to boot? Reagan would have had a better time believing it all if Ginny had been horrified at her son's shotgun wedding, or if Lisa had cattily showed her disapproval the first time they had met. Wasn't that what was supposed to happen?
All Reagan had ever known was a lifetime of tribulations. To be given so much in so little time . . . it was almost harrowing.
She glanced down and saw the glint of her wedding ring on her finger, catching the light as if to emphasize her point and call her attention. Even the presence of that ring on her finger made the whole situation more ambiguous. And she couldn't even begin to think about the baby. Her perfectly healthy baby girl, her little Gracie, who at that rate was going to be born into a world full of nothing except love.
Reagan let out a frustrated sigh. She was being stupid, or so she thought. She had everything at her fingertips and yet she was still sifting through her good fortunes, trying to find some invisible black stain leaking undetected poison into her life.
Maybe, she thought, I've just got good karma. She had definitely put up with enough shit to last her two lifetimes, so perhaps the time for true happiness had come. The last step was only to convince herself that she really did deserve it all.
Stop thinking that, she snapped to herself. You'll bite yourself in the ass. Surely she would, that is if she kept being so pessimistic. Out of all the hippy-dippy things Reagan had heard from past acquaintances, the notion that one could manifest their destiny had always stuck out to her. If she voiced such terrible thoughts out into the world, there was always a sliver of a chance that they would come true.
And if they came true, she would lose Dave. She couldn't lose Dave. She didn't even want to imagine it.
In her younger years when Reagan had entertained old flings, she had always built walls prior to delving into the relationship — or rather the exchange, as she had never been in a relationship until Dave. But nonetheless, she had guarded herself relentlessly, always prepared for the worst and telling herself months prior to the end of things that she would get along without that person just fine.
But she couldn't even do that with Dave. There was no use building up those feeble walls when the thought of even having to do so broke her heart. In no foreseeable future did she want to be apart from him. As much as she'd once half-yakked at the thought of 'true love,' she believed in it now, even if it made her a total pansy. Dave was the real deal.
In the midst of her troublesome worries, she found herself oddly craving a cigarette. Of course she never would have done it, not while pregnant. And she was already too grateful that she had quit before getting pregnant anyways, making the whole weening process easier. But as she stood in the cold staring out into the night, all she really wanted was the feeling of a long pull from a Marlboro.
Exhaling another gruff sigh, Reagan dragged her fingers backwards through her hair, retaining the old habit that seemed to befall her whenever she was over-thinking. Her bangs stuck straight up off her forehead, pointing in different haphazard directions. Before she could flatten them, the sound of the front door opening made her turn around.
Dave was walking outside, closing the door as gently as she had before him. When he caught her eye, he smiled, crossing his arms and rubbing them fiercely against the cold.
"Hey," he said quietly, keeping his voice down for the rest of the sleeping world. When he spoke, a cloud of hot breath ballooned from his mouth and hung in the air. Reagan suddenly wanted to taste that breath in the form of his kiss, wrapped in his arms and far away from her awful thoughts.
She gave him a half-hearted smile and mirrored his stance, folding her arms too. There was no way she was going to betray what had been on her mind. Dave was easy to worry, and from what she'd learned, he didn't always necessarily handle it well. She knew he would have been inevitably upset if he'd known of her doubts.
He walked over to where she stood and tucked one arm around her waist, lifting the other up so that he could twine his fingers into the mess that was her bangs. With a coy smile, he kissed her nose and then her lips, giving away his humorous mood.
"Trim your damn bangs," he said simply.
It was enough said to make Reagan laugh and kiss him back, abandoning all of her toxic speculations into the wintry night.