YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT // Kurt Cobain

Chapter 24

Los Angeles, CA

March 17, 1994

It was St. Patrick's Day, and Thomas Perry was in the process of putting together an all-green outfit ensemble for his night at Molly Malone's Pub downtown. I had offered to go with him, but he declined my offer, telling me that he valued my sobriety and well being over spending time with me at a bar. He had good intentions, but I think my offer was my subconscious feeling so extremely guilty about the fact that I drove to Seattle to visit Kurt and ended up sleeping with Kurt and cheating on Thomas. I was going to tell him eventually, I just needed to find a good time. And let's be real, no time is a good time to break it to your significant other that you cheated. But I made my bed, and now I had to lie in it.

Thomas kissed me goodbye before heading out the door, leaving me to my own devices as I sat on the couch, hugging a throw pillow. I decided I was going to have a movie night. I got up off the couch and made some coffee, pouring it into my Nevermind mug and setting it down on the counter. I changed my mind. I was not going to be a hermit, I was going to go out and live my best life (while still maintaining my sobriety-- 83 days motherfuckers!). And that was going to happen by going to the Sunset Strip.

I drove to the Whisky A Go Go, where Mötley Crüe played shows regularly back in the 80s, so I knew there had to be a good band playing. I walked up to the bar, sunglasses on so no one would recognize me, and ordered a club soda with lime. I looked up to the stage and saw some dudes I had never seen before. Thank the Lord. I would have legitimately died if Greg and his band were performing there.

I took a shuddering breath at the memory, taking a sip of my soda through the tiny black straw they provided, and I heard someone say "no way," way too loud. Oh shit. This was a bad idea. Especially after all the press attention lately.

I spun around to address the person, preparing my generic "thank you so much for your continued support, have a great night," but instead, I saw Kurt. He took a few steps towards me, and on instinct, I tried to step back but my back was already pressed against the bar counter.

"Please don't tell me that's alcohol," Kurt pleaded, and I shook my head. "No, it's club soda." I eyed the bottle in his hand. "You'd be a hypocrite if that's beer."

"Root beer," Kurt grinned, flashing the Barq's label in my line of vision. He joined me by sitting on the bar stool next to mine, fidgeting with the bottle, spinning it around against the counter. I took a sip of my club soda.

"So, how's everything with Thomas?" he asked, and I nearly spit out my drink. "Give a girl a warning!" I laughed, and he smiled in response. "Sorry."

"He's good, spending St. Patrick's Day at some Irish pub."

"Why aren't you with him?" Kurt replied, and I shrugged. "He said he wanted to support my efforts to stay sober."

"That's nice," Kurt smirked, taking a sip of his root beer before continuing, "considering where you are right now, and who you're with."

"Well, Mr. Cobain, I can get up and leave right now if that's what you're implying," I told him, pulling out my wallet to pay for my drink. Kurt put his hand on top of mine, stopping me.

"No, that's not what I was implying at all. Besides, I approached you."

"But I chose to go to this bar out of all places."

"But I'm so surprised and glad to see you again."

"But we had sex. In your house."

"But I kissed you."

"But I drove up to Seattle."

"But I overdosed."

"But I went to rehab and ended up dating Thomas."