Perfumed Secrets | Kurt Cobain

But by Friday I'm revived

"American Airlines flight 103 to Los Angeles. Final boarding call." The announcement echoed through the terminal, breaking through Faye's thoughts. She was actually doing it. Friday had finally arrived, and although time seemed to have crawled all week, now it was rushing ahead. In just a few hours, she'd be in LA.

As she glanced around the sleek lounge, she was surprised to find herself in such luxury. Her seat was first-class. She hadn't anticipated that. It was just another reminder of how little she knew about her mother's current life—this woman she was so disconnected from, yet tied to by blood. But Faye didn't let herself linger on the theories for too long. She was too wrapped up in the excitement of going down.

Her small carry-on bag sat at her feet, holding the essentials. Her luggage was dispatched, but this bag held everything that really mattered. Inside was a small notebook where she scribbled notes from time to time, her wallet, documents, a tube of chapstick, gum, a lighter, and half a pack of Camel Lights. And, of course, her pills.

She pulled out the bottle of clonazepam, turning it in her hand for a moment, her mind automatically calculating the remaining number of pills. It was a habit now, more instinctive than thoughtful. She knew her dependence was growing, but it wasn't something she was ready to fully confront yet. Not today. Not when she had other things to think about.

In the bag's other pocket, she carried the Polaroid camera Kurt had given her, along with extra film she'd picked up at the airport. She smiled, thinking about all the photos she'd take—shots of the city, of Kurt, maybe even a few in Malibu at her mother's beach house.

Faye leaned back in her seat, clutching the strap of her bag with one hand as her thoughts drifted to him. They had been phoning each other all week, exchanging updates in hurried whispers late at night. Kurt had left Seattle for LA just a few days earlier, but she felt like they'd been apart for weeks.

Every conversation gave her a glimpse of his world, even if just for a few minutes. He'd been quick to fill her in on his arrival in Los Angeles—how chaotic everything was at first, but how it felt right to be there. He talked about the drive out to Sound City, the spot where they'd be recording the album. She could picture him standing outside the studio, guitar slung over his shoulder, cigarette dangling from his lips, talking about how enticing everything was.

Kurt described the process like she was there with him. Rehearsing with Krist and Dave, hammering out the arrangements, tweaking riffs, coming up with fresh lyrics on the fly. They were refining songs that had been in the works for months, but also breathing new life into them—changing tempos, adding raw intensity, stripping some parts down to their bones.

"It's... I don't know, Faye. Everything feels bigger, more real now. Like it's finally happening," he told her over the phone one night.

"The next best american record." And she believed it when she said it. For as much as Kurt doubted himself, seeing firsthand how deeply he cared about his music—how much of his soul went into every song, it was meant to be big.  

The boarding process started, Faye's thoughts were still tethered to him, to Los Angeles. She couldn't wait to be there, to see him again, and be a part of that world, even if just for a few days. But a different kind of anxiety buzzed persistently in her mind—the thought of seeing her mother, the unknown that lay ahead. For that matter, she clung to the excitement, of seeing her boyfriend and the band, of capturing moments and making new memories.

Everything about the flight felt surreal. She had flown before, sure—but today, the excitement blended with clonazepam made it feel like her first time. The plush first-class seat beneath her felt unfamiliar, as though she was sitting somewhere she didn't quite belong. She glanced around, noticing the polished travelers in their sleek outfits, some busy with their suitcases, others casually sipping champagne as if this was their normal. Faye, on the other hand, sat there, clutching the armrests tightly and holding her breath, like a child on their first big adventure.