DECEMBER, 1989, SEATTLE, WA
THE HOMECOMING OF Nirvana brought spectacularly wonderful news with it, although it did not have anything to do with Kurt and Lindy.
Krist had proposed to Shelli, and they agreed that they would get married that coming New Year's Eve.
It had not been unexpected. Everyone who knew them both had been patiently waiting for them to get married, knowing the day would come soon. Evidently, the recent tour had had a strong impact on them, and Krist had seen it as an opportunity to ask Shelli for her hand in marriage.
"Will you be my bridesmaid?" Shelli had gushed to Lindy as Lindy had inspected her ring, a small but gorgeous round cut diamond.
"Of course," Lindy had told her warmly, honored that Shelli had selected her to stand by her side on her wedding day.
Kurt had witnessed the proposal alongside Lindy, but seemed passive towards the idea of his friend getting married. His response had been to light a cigarette, something that confused Lindy. She had imagined a different reaction.
"I thought you quit?" she'd asked him, referring to the pledge he'd re-taken over and over again to rid his body of toxins.
All he'd done is shrug in response.
New Year's Eve came fast and before Lindy knew it, she was getting dressed in preparation for Krist and Shelli's wedding. Shelli had, in a very Shelli sort of fashion, picked black bridesmaids gowns to counteract her white ensemble.
Lindy stood in front of her bathroom mirror, smoothing down the silk fabric that clung to her thin body. She'd bought makeup for the occasion, struggling to apply it correctly to her face. Despite the trouble, it actually had turned out nice. Her eyes were smoky and alluring, two adjectives she'd never used to describe them in the past, and her lips were by far more full and plump than she'd ever given them credit for.
When Lindy walked into the living room where Kurt was drinking a beer, his eyebrows disappeared beneath his mane of blonde hair.
"Wow," he said, stunned by Lindy's heartbreaking beauty. "You look gorgeous."
"More like a clown," Lindy said doubtfully, resisting the urge to raise her hand to her eyes and rub off the makeup that she'd so carefully painted on.
"How about me?" Kurt said, standing and giving a twirl. Lindy knew he did this was as much sarcasm as he could muster — owning nothing but ratty jeans and flannels had certainly not given Kurt a wide variety of clothes to choose from for the occasion. He wore his nicest jeans and flannel, the only quality that made them nice being they didn't have tears in them.
"You look like you. And 'you' translates to perfect," Lindy told him kindly. Kurt didn't need to dress nicely to show off how good he looked. It was as if every day he got more handsome, his eyes becoming more bluer and his sharp chin becoming more defined.
He'd been rather normal since returning from Europe. Lindy had half-expected him to be delivered on her doorstep in a straight-jacket but if anything, he seemed humbled by the experience. He acted the same as he normally did, cuddling into her at nighttime and using anything he could get his hands on to paint. Nothing he did indicated that he was grappling mentally with what he'd endured on tour.
Lindy suspected that this had to do with Kurt's hidden agenda to rid himself and the band of Sub Pop. She'd gotten an earful when he got home about how awful they'd been treating Nirvana, something that had sent him into a fit of rage. She was well aware of Kurt's plan to one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, depart from Sub Pop and move on to bigger and better things. But like he had told in October — finding a label was no easy task.
