APRIL, 1990, SEATTLE, WA
"WE GOT PAID five hundred dollars for our last gig. I want you to take the money and buy yourself a plane ticket so you can fly to Chicago. I want you here."
These were the words Kurt was speaking firmly into the phone to Lindy, who sat on the other line twirling the cord around her finger until it lost feeling.
"Kurt, I don't know. I have to be at the hospital for clinical training . . ."
"Please, Lindy," Kurt said, speaking gravely. "Please come. I'm sending the money today. Buy the ticket. I love you."
He hung up, the click of the dying line feeling like a physical blow to Lindy's chest. Their conversations were getting shorter and shorter. Kurt's patience with their relationship was wearing thin, but his stardom was only beginning to thicken.
Since February, he had been combing through every viable way to get Lindy to him. Nirvana had not been making money for their past gigs, rather having to pay venues out of pocket themselves to even play there, but for the first time, their fortune was beginning to change.
Lindy's own personal work was thriving too. She was close to finishing her second to last year of college, having finally knocked out a full year in the college of nursing. Her professors had been impressed with her, remarking on her uncanny ability to never score anything below a B on exams.
Her clinicals were going well and she seemed to outshine every other student in her group, always the first to be asked to step in and demonstrate on real patients. When she was in the hospital, wearing her scrubs and diving into medicine, she felt like she'd finally attained everything that she had ever wanted.
Except Kurt. On the contrary, she felt like she was losing him more with each passing day.
Hunched at her kitchen table, Lindy stared off into space, wondering how she'd be able to get away from both school and work to go to Chicago. She'd already had to take so many days off from working in order to study, something that had caused her to barely make rent for the last two months.
Freddie leapt agilely onto the table, nuzzling his head against Lindy's hand, a clear invite for her to pet him. She did as he pleased and smiled when he started to purr like a motorboat.
"I bet you miss your dad," she said aloud. Kurt was easily Freddie's favorite human. It had everything to do with how attentive Kurt had been to the cat, always petting and holding him, treating him like a human baby.
Lindy ventured into their bedroom, pushing open the closet door and looking at the hanging line of various t-shirts and flannels Kurt had left after leaving for the tour. She grabbed one, pulling it off its hanger and sliding her arms into it.
It didn't fit Kurt, as with everything he owned, so in turn it was quite big on Lindy as she pulled it over her body. She held the fabric up to her nose, inhaling his scent. It had never changed. Cigarette smoke, soap, and a trace of something sweet, probably her own perfume.
Standing there, solitary in their bedroom with her face pressed into Kurt's flannel, she started to cry.
_________
Only a few short days later, Lindy received Kurt's check for five-hundred dollars in the mail. She'd opened it slowly, feeling like it might burn her fingertips to touch it. Once she'd pulled it out, it would almost be like sealing an invisible deal, a bargain that she knew she would not be able to fulfill.
In her maternity and child health class, Lindy had waited behind once everyone left. She wanted to speak with her professor and gauge the possibility of her leaving for Chicago.
