Perfumed Secrets | Kurt Cobain

On Monday they destroyed me

Monday began with the sound of the alarm, but instead of getting up, Faye hit the snooze button, pulling the covers over her head. Kurt had left for Los Angeles, and the little motivation in her had followed him right out of Seattle. She finally dragged herself out of bed, not to her morning classes–she had picked up an extra shift at work instead. Her mother might be paying for the plane ticket, but she wasn't going to rely on her for anything else, so she decided to make an effort for some extra bucks.

"Just a couple of days," she whispered to herself as she stood behind the counter, taking orders and making lattes. The hours dragged on, each one blending into the next, but her mind was far from the hustle of the coffee shop. She wasn't focused on the espresso machines or the endless line of customers. Her thoughts were in California—mostly with Kurt and the band. She couldn't wait to see him again, to witness fragments of this dream.

But whenever thoughts of her mother surfaced, Faye felt a knot tighten in her stomach. What was her life even like down there? She had no idea, but if she had a house in Malibu, things must be pretty good. Faye imagined what her mother's new family looked like—a picture-perfect life she wasn't part of. She knew she had a younger sister she had never met, and the very thought of it made her blood boil. How could her mother move on, build a whole new, and seemingly better family, and leave her and her father behind in Washington without looking back?

Imagining an answer made her jaw clench. She wiped down the counter with more force than necessary. Marie had just abandoned them, made it look so easy to walk away. Meanwhile, Catherine—her father's second wife—had been the one who raised her, the steady presence Faye could count on, not Marie. A warmth replaced the bitterness. Catherine had always been there, always treated her like her own daughter. Maybe that's why the idea of reconnecting with her mother felt like such a betrayal, like she was giving in to a fantasy of the mother she never had.

After clocking out, Faye felt as though a heavenly choir sang in relief. The shift had been grueling, the extra hours weighing down on her, but her daydreaming kept her going. She rushed home, hoping to catch some news from Kurt, maybe a phone call, anything to make the wait easier. As soon as she opened the door, the smell of dinner greeted her.

"What's cooking?" she asked, dropping her bag on the floor.

"Just some pasta," Amy replied, stirring the pot, focused on the stove. "How was your weekend?" she added, her voice casual but a little distant. "We haven't bump into each other at all since Saturday."

Faye grabbed a glass of water and sat down. "Oh, you know, the workshop at college was pretty cool. I'm really digging this photography thing. Actually, Kurt gave me a Polaroid so I could take some snaps when I get to California."

Amy's lips curled into a smile, but she kept her attention on the sauce. "That's nice. You do love your photos. Did you guys do anything fun?"

"We were just chilling here at the apartment. Kurt needed to rest before the long road trip."

Amy nodded, not saying much, still stirring. Faye felt like she was about to say something. She watched Amy's body language—the stiff movements, the lack of eye contact. 

"You alright?" she asked, her tone soft but probing. "Is something wrong?"

Amy hesitated, then sighed, turning down the heat. "Actually, yeah. I found something in the living room. A needle... just near the sofa."

"Oh," she muttered, caught off guard. She tried to downplay it. "Well, he does it sometimes."

"I figured as much," Amy replied, crossing her arms. "Remember that first weekend when we went to Olympia and found him high? No big news."