June 1st, 1995
The frigid porcelain of the toilet seat felt good against Julia's cheek as she recovered from the generous amount of vomit she had let out into the toilet bowl. Her head was pounding, and her throat was dry as a bone.
Despite going to bed at 10, and waking up at 12 in the afternoon the next day, she still felt extremely fatigued, a result of her excruciatingly painful hangover.
Ever since that dreadful day in April, she had self medicated with a hodgepodge of alcohol and sleeping pills. She'd usually wake up around noon, and smoke a cigarette. Then, she'd get some articles done for Kerrang. But her strictest ritual was one of a few sleeping pills, and a copious amount of tequila.
The tedious emotions that came with kurts death spiraled the young woman out of control. She loathed the suffocating feelings of sadness and abandonment she had felt, and immediately found her own way of muting them.
The sleeping pills made her fall into the sweet abyss of slumber fast, and while she waited for her pills to kick in, she would down a considerable amount of tequila. Her anguish had driven her to dangerous lengths, but frankly, she didn't care.
She didn't want to feel a twinge of emotion.
A hungover Julia slowly stood up, a groan slipping past her lips. She flushed the toilet, before sluggishly exiting the bathroom. She made a bee line straight to the coffee machine, and began brewing a pot of the caffeinated substance.
She reached for her cigarettes and lighter, briskly lighting one, and sticking it between her lips. Once the coffee was ready, she crossed the kitchen floor, and retrieved a white mug from the cabinet, before heading back over to the opposite counter.
She poured the black coffee into the mug. Steam swirled up and into the air as the steaming liquid hit the porcelain mug. She took the mug by its handle, and walked down the hallway, into her bedroom.
She sat down at her desk, setting the mug beside her computer. She exhaled some smoke, before picking up her typewriter, which was behind her desktop. She alternated between the old fashioned type writer, and the more modern desktop computer.
It just depended on how she felt.
So there she sat for the next few hours, typing and typing away for the next few hours, rarely stopping for a break.
The rough pads of her fingers were numb from typing for so long. Her blue eyes flicked up at the clock. It was four sharp. She sighed heavily, and stretched her arms high above her blonde head.
Just as she was about to begin typing some more, the phone began to ring. She stood up from her chair, her legs weak from sitting for so long. She stumbled over to the landline.
"Hello?" She asked. "Hey, its Dave."
Her blood ran cold. Her slender fingers gripped the phone with such a grip, that her knuckles became white. "Hello? Are you still there?" He asked, drawing her back into reality.
"Y-Yeah, sorry..." She stuttered, licking her chapped lips. "I just got back from Virginia, and I'm back in LA now. I just wanted to call, and check up on you. Sorry that it's so uh... Overdue. I just was in a slump." He explained. Julia hung onto every syllable that rolled off of his tongue.
"Ah, how was it?" She asked, leaning her body weight onto the door frame. "It was alright. My mom and Lisa kept asking about you." She chuckled. "So how are you doing, Jules?" He asked gently. A pang of sadness struck her.
It wasn't like she was unaware of her destructive coping mechanisms. She knew she was killing herself, and frankly, it made her sad. But she just couldn't stop. She had been drowning, desperate for air, ever since that dreadful day in April.
"I'm shitty," she answered with blunt candor. Dave laughed dully. "You and me both." He said, sighing. The line went dead for a few moments, before Dave spoke again.
"I have plans, Jules. Music plans." He said. Her heart jumped. She had always egged him on to sing. He had such a soft, sweet voice, that could bring any one to their knees.
"Seriously? Tell me more!" She said, smiling for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "I scheduled some time in the studio. I've written a bunch of music and I'm finally ready I think." This had brought her the most closure and happiness she had felt since Kurt passed.
She sighed in content. "God, I love this. Everyone's gonna love you." Dave laughed on the other line. "I really appreciate that, Jules. I'm not exactly sure what I'll call the album. I just know im not using my name." He said, scoffing at the final sentence.
She raised an eyebrow, twisting the cord of the land line tightly around her finger. "Why not?" She asked. "I don't really want to be affiliated with Nirvana. This isn't me and Krist and pat, it's just me. But people are gonna think its some sort of grunge revival." He explained. She nodded, now understanding.
"So uh, how's Rosie?" She asked, swallowing nervously. Dave frowned. Their relationship was on the rocks. Shit, it had been forever. But he lied. "She's alright, just busy with work stuff." He answered merely.
Julia could tell by his lack of care that something wasn't quite right, but she didn't pry any further. "Glad to hear that." She replied simply. "I would ask about someone, but I don't know who." He said. This made Julia giggle.
"Its alright. There isn't really anyone but Courtney and Frances anyway. Haven't talked to krist and shelli in awhile." She said sadly. "I talked to krist a few times on the phone in Virginia. He's holding up alright."
"That's good. Courtney's as alright as she can be. Frances is oblivious." The young girls innocence and happiness helped make Julia feel a little bit more optimistic every time she saw her.
But when she'd cluelessly wonder where her father had gone, it broke her heart far worse.
Dave too, felt the same ache in his chest. "God, that's awful. I'm glad she doesn't have that pain of knowing he's gone, though." He said, sighing heavily. "Yeah." She whispered simply.
"Well, I'm gonna get going, David, but we should talk again soon." Julia said, twirling the cord of the landline around her finger. Dave's face lit up on the other line.
"Of course. Take care, Jules."
And with that, the dull static of the dead line rang in her ear.
It was strange, the odd mixture of heartache and optimism that filled her. Speaking to him after all this time, had given her the smallest grain of hope.
She just wondered if that minuscule fiber of optimism would even fix her.
Hi guys! So just a heads up, the release of Foo Fighters and all that isn't in its real chronological order, I'm just tweaking the timeline of the foo fighters to align with where I want this story to go. So foo fighters will come out in 1994, not '95. thanks❤️❤️
