"I'M NOT MAD. I swear. Honestly, it was kind of funny."
Lindy's mouth puckered into a grimace as she listened to Charlie's short-winded promise that he was not angry about what had happened on his birthday with Kurt.
"Tell him that. He's been in his music room sulking since we got home last night," Lindy sighed, balancing one hand on the wheel of her Jeep Wrangler and using the other to massage her aching temple. She was on her way home from an eight hour shift at the hospital.
"I did! I texted his phone like, six times. No response."
"Charlie, your dad hates texting just about as much as he hates conversation in general," Lindy said.
"I'll call him. But I'm serious Mom, it was no big deal. The show went on. What's he so keyed up about?"
"You know how he gets with you. That was your moment and he feels like he stole it."
Charlie's sigh blew directly into the speaker, making it crackle in Lindy's ear.
"Have you ever told him that he's dramatic?"
"You should have met him back in nineteen-ninety two."
"I'm calling him as soon as we hang up," Charlie pledged, sounding genuinely adamant.
"Let me know how it goes," Lindy muttered, tapping the red button on her iPhone and effectively ending the call. She tossed her phone into the passenger seat and turned up the radio, pleased to hear the Red Hot Chili Peppers crooning out of the speakers.
Kurt was a friend of Anthony Kiedis — she'd met him many times. He was a nice guy.
She would have enjoyed the drum-heavy beat of 'Californication' more if it weren't for Kurt himself, clouding her mind and making any other type of thought impossible when she knew where he was and what he was feeling.
In all honesty, she felt bad for him. First the Rolling Stone article, and now the ridiculous ordeal at Charlie's birthday party. She knew just from existing alongside him for so long that he was miserable with himself, and just as he had years prior, he thoroughly believed that he was a nuisance to everyone around him.
Kurt never felt such heavy things on a small scale, nor did he go vying for anyone's attention when he felt them. His moods were not determined by how much of his ego could be inflated if he felt particularly self-deprecating. Everything that Kurt felt was real, and when he felt like an inconvenience, he felt it deep to his core.
As Lindy pulled up to her driveway, she nearly cried out with relief to see Frances perched happily on the bumper of her car, waving with a light, carefree smile on her face. Tendrils of her blonde hair swirled in spirals as the Seattle wind blew in small gusts, ringing in the fall weather.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," Lindy groaned, climbing out of her Jeep and slamming the door shut. Frances tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling knowingly.
"Are you not happy to see me every other time that I visit Seattle?"
Lindy hitched her bag of things higher on her shoulder, copying Frances and leaning up against her bumper. She sighed, but could not help smiling back at Frances. It was impossible when Frances had the sort of infectious smile that lit up every face of whoever came near her.
"Just tell me now. Have you been upstairs to see your dad?"
"Yes, and it was easy to get him out of that room. At least it was for me. I suspect that he might have wandered back in there though, now that he's alone."
