Stomach Pains (KURT COBAIN)

brands

there was a terrible screaming overhead, thunder. the screen door hit hard against the house, wind howling.
"nasty," jodi said, rain pouring over her dark hair and onto her pronounced cheekbones. we rushed to the car. the car was fired on, pulled out of the gravel driveway, and turned left out of our subdivision.

we lived in the shittiest part of seattle, the worst it could give us, as rent was still 700$ being a duplex. everyone was rich, so it couldn't get that bad. she tapped her hand on the dashboard.
"don't you hate buying your clothes at the thrift store?" jodi asked, stopping at a stop sign.

"brands, brands, brands. all you fuckin' care about is brands. like american psycho or something," i answered, slapping my hand against my thigh.
"i just like looking nice!" she said in defense.
"and i look nice in my 50's grandpa sweater!" i matched her tone.

she sighed as she pulled into the doctors office.

we were three minutes late for our 10 o'clock appointment. she rushed inside, being my keeper at 24, even though i was 21, i was a child.

god only knows how i would do it without her. she opened the door and inhaled sharply as she walked in.

"that's kurt cobain!" she whispered excitedly.

sure enough, the long blond hair was in his hands, he held a magazine in the waiting room of my gastroenterologist.
so, while jodi was signing me in,

i sat next to him.

he looked up suddenly, a confused facial expression on his scruffy face.
it softened when he realized i wasn't going to bother him.

despite the waiting room being almost empty. i pulled out a zine i had been given by some friends.

this peaked kurt's interest, as he subtly looked past his housewife magazine.

i silently handed it to him. it was small in his large fingers, the printer paper folded into quarters, like the books teachers create to help children read.
he flipped the page, genuinely interested.
"who gave you this?" he asked, seemed to be the first time he had spoke in awhile, as his voice cracked.

he blushed because of this.
"some friends. i think their names are on the inside cover." i said with a small forced smile.
"why are you here?" he asked.
"every time i eat i hurl. pretty cute." i laughed. he nodded.
"i have a pinched nerve, but also a sensitive stomach. it constantly hurts." he said. i pulled a small notebook out of my purse and wrote down my name and prone number.
"Heidi Larkin
206-735-2686"
"in case you want to complain about your stomach to someone who will understand, here's my number." i said, ripping the piece of paper out and placing it in his hands.

"cobain?" the receptionist said. he stuffed my phone number in his pocket and handed my zine back to me.
"you'll be hearing from me," he said, smiling weakly as he stood. he lifted his hand up in a soft wave.

neat.