YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT // Kurt Cobain

Chapter 4

Los Angeles CA → Seattle WA

June 21, 1989

I felt as if I was hungover, but I wasn't. Maybe it was the four hours that I spent in my room, packing for tour whilst simultaneously sobbing over the fact that I just broke up with my boyfriend of three years. Or maybe I was just being dumb and overreacting.

The meetup was happening in the lovely open landscape of Mountain Gate, California at the Spring Beach Trailer Park. The trip was a blur. I spent most of my time looking out the van window, pretending that I was in a music video to make myself feel a little bit better about letting my dramatic stray tears fall.

Greg was there next to me the whole time. He got me coffee before the trip, and he even brought his portable vinyl player, with some Queen stashed in his bag. He knew how to cheer me up, even through a breakup. I sometimes wondered what it would have been like if I liked him back. Where we would be now. If this tour would even be happening.

Two bags of Haribo gummy bears later, we arrived at the trailer park and I saw that the Nirvana trailer was already there. It was giant in comparison to our puny, half-broken van. "Guess they've sold a lot of records," Kevin stated, and we all nodded. This could not be just a local band.

We got out of the van and stretched our legs. I saw the band coming out of their trailer from the corner of my eye. A pair of converse padded over to where I stood, and the scent of cigarettes met my nostrils. I looked up to see the face of none other than Creepy Eye Man, Kurt Cobain. He brought his cigarette up to his lips, inhaling it slowly as I watched him, and for some reason, I couldn't remove my eyes from his face. He was slightly mesmerizing; the way he exhaled the smoke from that cigarette had to have been the most attractive thing I had seen in my entire life. I would never admit it aloud, though.

"How's it going?" he asked me, his voice sounding like he just woke up from a twenty four hour nap. He pulled at the edge of his tee shirt, which looked incredibly homemade, and drawn on with crayola markers. It read "Corporate Magazines Still Suck," which made me raise an eyebrow. Why did that apply to him?

I snapped myself out of my thoughts, attempting to come up with an answer. "It's going good," I let the words roll through my lips, trying to not make much conversation. Kurt took another drag from his cigarette, not as long this time, and he spoke as he exhaled.

"I was gonna ask you a question, but I forgot what I was going to ask," Kurt stated, his eyebrows furrowing as if he was going through an internal quest. I waited a few seconds, watching him ponder his thoughts. "Any day now," I teased, earning a chuckle from him, followed by a gasp of realization. His eyes lit up like a child on Christmas.

"Would you want to go out for a drink with me sometime?" I rolled my eyes in disgust. This could not be happening. We had just met a few days ago, and he was already asking me out? I never knew a guy could stoop this low.

"So I'm guessing that's a no?" Kurt asked in an innocent tone, his eyes growing round in shape, making me slightly feel badly. But I wasn't going to let him get to me. I shook my head. "No, thanks. I'd rather not." I heard Kurt exhale under his breath. Did I regret anything I said so far? No.

"I don't think I ever got your name," he told me, glancing down at the ground, tapping his cigarette so the ashes hit the concrete below us. "If we're going to be on tour together, we should at least know each other's names."

I nodded in agreement, while internally crying, because I was still in denial about going on tour. This was what I had been living for since high school, and it was happening; however, at the same time, I was face to face with one of the shadiest, yet most beautiful human beings I had ever set eyes on. "My name's Erin," I said, and heard my voice crack. Why now, I wondered. Of course, out of all times, my voice decided to fuck itself up.

"Erin what?" Kurt mocked me, purposely cracking his voice, followed by a low chuckle. He pulled his pants up by his belt, and I felt myself tense up. Why? I had absolutely no idea. Perhaps it was because of the way he introduced himself at the diner when we first met. I still hadn't really let go of that. I wanted to let go of it, but I was also trying to be cautious with what I did when we interacted.

I cleared my throat, making sure my voice was intact when I spoke my next few words. "Erin Murbach," I introduced myself, and I heard Kurt laugh under his breath again. I glared up at him, and his hands shot up into the air. "What? What did I do?"

"Why were you laughing at my name?" I asked him pointedly, gaining his eye contact so he couldn't look away from me. I was beginning to really not like Kurt Cobain. He was reckless, and as of now, rude. I should have really started a list of negative adjectives beginning with an r to bash him. He shook his head in denial, letting his hands down. He dropped his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it to kill the flame. "I wasn't laughing. Your name is just beautiful, that's all."

"It is," I heard a deeper voice from behind me, and a strong hand wrapping around my shoulders. Greg to the rescue. "Glad that we get to tour with you guys, it's really an honor. Thanks, man."

I watched Kurt's eyes divert from me to his left side, and his hands retreat far into his pockets. He inhaled through his teeth. "Well, Erin Murbach, I believe the trailer's gonna leave without us if we stall any more. I'll see you in a few minutes, I guess," Kurt said, turning around slowly and trudging toward the trailer.

"You know, I'll always be here if you feel uncomfortable around him," Greg murmured, and I nodded, looking up at him. He was a good half of a foot taller than me, if not more. "He seems a bit off to me, and I'm just a bit worried about you."

"Thanks, Greg. I'm okay right now. But I'll definitely let you know if anything happens," I told him, and Greg grimaced.

"Promise me," he grabbed my hands, and I repeated, "I promise." He took me into his arms and hugged me, messing up my hair in the process. "Let's get this show on the road, literally," he said as we parted our embrace. I truly appreciated him. I laughed along with him as we headed to the van to load our equipment into the trailer.