KURT'S FLIGHT LANDED right on time, as initially predicted. The plane touched down safely at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, dumping Kurt back into the state where all his troubles had started in the first place.
Even after Beth left Lindy's apartment for the night, Lindy held a silent vigil on her couch as she waited for the phone call from Krist that would herald in news of what the hell was going on.
Lindy felt that the extension of simply wanting to see Kurt had traveled far deeper; she needed to see him. Her brown eyes had to hold the gaze his blue ones just so she could know that he was really alive, that there was still the chance — even if it sputtered like a dying engine — of him staying alive.
The last time they had seen each other had been in Paris. Kurt had worn his suit, gifted Lindy lingerie and wine and laid with her, wide awake in her huge hotel bed until sunrise. Lindy regretted not knowing that when they had kissed goodbye and her hand had slipped away from his bearded face, she had been potentially seeing him for the last time as she truly wished to see him -- happy.
In a month, everything had changed.
Lindy was pregnant and Kurt may have made his first legitimate suicide attempt.
The call from Krist came late into the night, when the sky was navy and the only light came from a faintly waning crescent moon. Lindy answered on the first ring. Her hand was shaking.
"I'm going to pick him up," Krist informed. "I'll drop him off to you. He says don't worry about getting him back to his house. Courtney apparently left for the night so it's not a big deal."
"He can't drive?" Lindy asked, her voice wobbling.
"He can, but . . . I don't trust him."
Lindy had no idea what this could have meant. Did Krist think Kurt had gotten to a point where he'd drive his Valiant straight into a wall? Or was it merely the fear that he would find more heroin if left to his own devices?
She didn't press the matter any further. Instead, Lindy waited, deciding to stand and walk around rather than continue to sit. Frequently, she peered out the window and out onto the street. After many of these checks, she saw Krist's car pull up to her apartment building. A long and lean figure, one she recognized even in the dark, got out of the passenger side door.
Lindy would not have waited for him to knock even if she had tried. She ran outside, out of breath and feeling the pulse of her heart everywhere in her body. When she rounded the corner where the stairs were, she saw him, one foot on the first step and a hand on the railing.
He looked up and met her eyes.
For the most part, he was the same. Thinner maybe, with a complexion that had somehow become even more ashen. But he still wore the same clothes. Had the same lank blonde hair and beard scruff.
But it was his eyes that broke Lindy -- their bright blue hue was missing the usual soulful light behind them. It had vanished. And if that light was truly gone, then all that stood before Lindy was a shell. A shell of the person she loved.
"Kurt" Lindy cried. It was a race to see who could get to who first. They met in the middle of the staircase, abandoning the thought that someone might have been around to watch. The secret nature with which they guarded their relationship seemed trivial compared to what they both had faced.
Kurt was crying when Lindy caught him in her arms. There was no pointed evidence as to whether his tears were happy or sad ones, but Lindy clung to him anyways, gasping in the stale-ish sweet scent of his clothes and skin and feeling his hands fold into her hair.
