OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

eighty-two.

MARCH 6th, 1993, SEATTLE, WA

     "I DON'T WANT him to come. I'm done."

Reagan stood exasperatedly in front of Dave, her hands full of flimsy party streamers that she flopped up into the air before letting fall back at her sides.

"Dave, please. It's a little late for this."

Dave was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his hands clasped. He was angry, which was an uncharacteristic look on him. Reagan could see him chewing the inside of his cheek in replacement of his usual stick of gum and his eyes were dark and piercing as they stared straight past her and into the wall.

"No. I can't look at him right now."

"It's Gracie's birthday. Everyone is coming and it would hurt Kurt's feelings if you all of the sudden uninvited him."

"Hurt his feelings if I uninvited him? Do you think he wondered if he hurt my feelings when he uninvited me out of the band?" Dave demanded, jabbing his finger into his chest.

"He never said that," Reagan protested. "He never kicked you out."

"But he wanted to. He said I was a shitty drummer and that he wanted a new one. So I'm done. I'm fucking done."

Dave got up and started towards the hall that led into their bedroom, but Reagan jumped in his way and raised her hand to his shoulder.

"I know what he said was terrible. It was wrong. It was totally uncalled for and trust me, I'd love to kick him where it hurts for saying that. But he's not himself right now," she said.

"He hasn't been himself for almost a year," Dave argued. "I don't know that person. I don't want to know that person. And I sure as hell don't want to be in his band, nor do I want him in my house."

"Please wait," Reagan begged, planting her feet firmly into the ground as Dave tried to push past her. He waved her hand away from caressing his neck.

"I'm done talking about it."

"No, we're not done talking about it."

She clutched his arm and dragged him back in front of her, hardening her gaze. She felt the streamers in her hand crunch when she closed her fist around them.

"Don't shut Kurt out for this," she said. "He was being stupid and you know he didn't mean it. He would be fucked without you."

"All the more reason to quit."

"You can't quit!"

"Why not?" Dave asked harshly. "If he doesn't want me, then fine, I'll leave. I'm expendable, according to him."

"You aren't," Reagan said. "You aren't expendable at all. Kurt is just in one of his funks and by next week, he's going to regret ever saying that. You can't walk away from this."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you saying this to me? You want me to stay somewhere where I'm not appreciated? You said I could make it on my own. I'll find another band, hell, I don't care. I'm not going to give the time and effort to something that's going to be taken out from under me on a whim."

"You could make it on your own. It's not your time yet, though. Right now, you're in Nirvana and that's just —,"

"How are you okay with this?" he interrupted. "I didn't expect this out of you. I thought you'd be just as mad as I am. I thought you'd defend me, yet you're acting like I'm the idiot here."

Reagan inhaled, pulling her shoulders up to her ears and closing her eyes. He was testing her patience, he really was. They'd sworn that they would never let this part of his life impact their relationship, but she couldn't let him make the mistake of leaving Nirvana. It was divine intervention at work, forcing her to step into the mix that she'd promised to stray away from. Her gut was telling her to.