Stranger Things Have Happened, I Know

Ch 15 & 16

Chapter 15

From Dave’s Point of View

“SHIT!” I said aloud as I continued to try to reach her. I jumped up from my sofa and ran upstairs to my office. I pulled out my chair and sat down at the desk. I shook the mouse, brining the computer to life. I opened up an internet window and Googled “Dave Grohl, Ritzy Bryan.” Several links came up with articles about the tour. I scrolled through until I found a link to US WEEKLY. I clicked on it and

up popped the photo of Ritzy and I. “Fuck,” I groaned, as I read the caption. I played back the moment the photo was taken. The bar was packed for St Patrick’s Day. Josh, Brody, Nate and I, plus a few random friends and had planned to go out to the pub when Ritzy had phoned me. She was in town and wanted to celebrate with us. We planned meet up with Ritzy and the band later in the night, at a different bar. By the time we had finished up at the pub and gotten to the bar to meet everyone, it was packed. Ritzy had secured a small pub table near the edge of the patio. We all squeezed around it. Ritzy was “pissed” as she kept putting it and could hardly sit on her bar stool. I had, in fact, put my arm around her, but it was just to hold her up. My heart sank as I remembered thinking how good it felt to have someone warm tucked in against me. I remembered missing Kate. I also realized that I had intentionally left Ritzy’s name off of the list I’d given her of people I’d gone out with. Why had I done that, I wondered? I tried Kate’s phone again. It went right to voicemail. I sighed.

“Kate,” I began, “I am so sorry you had to see that. But I can explain if you will let me. Please. You are too important to me. It’s not what it looks like.... please, call me.” I hung up. I got up and began to pace, running my hands through my hair. I could not remember feeling so awful.

                One Monday morning, while I’d been visiting her on the east coast, after Kate had left for work, I’d been wandering through her house. In her living room, she had about ten large photo albums on a bookshelf. I stood and starred at them, rubbing my beard the way Kate says I do when I am uncomfortable or deep in thought. I debated whether or not to look through them.

                “She can go online and see a million pictures of me, without my permission,” I’d said out loud. “It’s kind of the same thing…” Having convinced myself, I selected an album off the shelf and brought it over to the couch. The inside cover said, “Junior Year, UMASS”. I began to flip through. Inside the plastic sleeves was a Kate I barely recognized. She was dangerously skinny, her hair was cut in a short bob instead of the long locks she now wore. But her smile was still the same. Every picture she was in, she was either caught smiling or mid-laugh. There were pictures of her with different guys, and I wondered which one she was involved with and which ones were just friends. I looked through several more albums before I started to feel bad about snooping. I put them back on the shelves, just as I’d found them.

The next time I’d flown out to see her, about a month later, I asked to look through photos with her.

“You can look up my biography online. My past, my life is public knowledge. You don’t have a Wikipedia page,” I teased. Her smile was so big, I remembered, as she ran and got her albums. I listened as she talked and explained the photos. I listened raptly as she told stories about her different friends and her relationships. I was surprised by how many pictures she had. I asked so many questions and she answered them, laughing, talking animatedly about her memories. I loved all the little

details she provided, what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” I’d told her when we’d ran out of photos. I felt closer to her than ever. Now, I thought to myself, I’d really messed up. It was two full days until she finally returned my many phone calls. When my phone finally did ring, I excitedly answered it.