YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT // Kurt Cobain

Chapter 6

Seattle, WA → San Francisco,  CA

June 22, 1989

My head felt heavy and my eyelids felt weighted, and I couldn't open them no matter how hard I tried. My soul felt like it was returning to my body, and my senses were coming back to me. I didn't remember what the hell had happened last night. All I remembered was Kurt getting us White Russians. And that we were really high. Yeah, that's what happened.

My eyes jolted open, as my stomach growled out of irritation, and I jumped up, my eyes jerking open to explore my surroundings. I was in a motel room. A nice one, if that, and there was an open door leading to the unlit bathroom. I scrambled towards the door, tripping over my own feet, and found the toilet, throwing up the night before. I didn't even remember drinking that much. At the same time, though, I was a lightweight. I needed to build up my alcohol tolerance if I wanted to be a part of a band.

I sat on the floor next to the toilet for a few extra minutes, making sure I was done before I went to brush my teeth. I stood up to reach my toothbrush, but I felt sick again, so I was down on my knees throwing up twice in a row.

I suddenly felt a presence next to me, and there was Kurt, pulling my hair back as I vomited. So much for a good impression, Jesus.

"There you go," Kurt whispered to me, in his utterly attractive morning voice, and I nearly collapsed. Of course, out of all situations, he had to see me like this, with a bedhead, smudged makeup, and vomiting into a random hotel room. Of course, nothing ever works out in my favor.

"All good things must come to an end," Kurt sang a random sing-songy tune to the old proverb, and I flushed the toilet, looking up at him. Maybe he was referring to last night. Or was he talking about the vomiting? Why the hell would he be referring to vomiting as good? I needed to get my shit together before I let any words escape my mouth, voluntarily or not.

He stood up, helping me up, and filled up a plastic cup of water and got me an ibuprofen as I brushed my teeth. After I finished, we exited the bathroom and sat on the bed we apparently shared the night before. It was all a blur to me.

I hoped I didn't kiss him. That would have been horrible.

"So, do you remember what happened?" I asked him, and he stretched out on the bed. This was when I first noticed that he was just wearing his jeans from last night, and his shirt was on the floor across the room. I suddenly felt self conscious, and realized that I only had my oversized green shirt. I looked around, and caught Kurt's gaze as he watched me search for my pants.

"Do you?" he asked me, and I gasped. "We didn't." I deadpanned, more in the form of a question than a statement. It couldn't have ended up this way, I didn't need this!

"I don't think so. I don't remember much at all," Kurt told me, running a hand through his messy golden hair and taking a deep breath, reaching into his jeans pocket to pull out a cigarette and his lighter. He lit it up, and inhaled, slowly exhaling the smoke in a way that made me want to roll my eyes into the back of my head. But I didn't, because that would be weird. Really weird.

"So, how did we end up here? What happened after the bar?"

"Well first, let's backtrack to the beginning when you told Señor Bartender that 'you weren't his baby and didn't want anything from him, thanks,'" Kurt mocked me in a high pitched voice, chuckling as he took another drag.

"I was uneasy with that guy! I'm not just someone to be taken advantage of because a guy believes he has the right to!" I exclaimed, pulling my hair up in a ponytail on top of my head, and pulling the black scrunchie from around my wrist to tie it up. I pulled down some wispy parts on the sides to frame my face, and crossed my legs while turning to face Kurt.

"You are so incredibly attractive, Erin," Kurt muttered, glancing up at me from his hands, that were fiddling with his cigarette as if it were a stress ball.

"You're unbelievable, Kurt," I replied in an utterly snarky tone, and stole the cigarette from his fingers, taking it up to my lips in an attempt to take a drag, but the smoke filled my lungs too quickly and I ended up choking. I let out a gross sounding heaving cough, and took a sip of my water from the nightstand.

"Hey," I heard Kurt say, so I cocked my head to give him my attention, but felt the weight of his legs on either side of me as he straddled me, cupped my face and kissed me deeply. His lips literally felt like the kiss of death, so to speak. He seemed desperate as he grasped my shoulder with his other hand, smoothly running it down my arm to grab the cigarette, of which he put out on the ashtray behind me. I felt my hand subconsciously reach his bare chest, running my hand across it and catching what I was doing. My head had a million things going through it at once, like what the hell Kurt was doing, why I was going along with it, if I was even sober at this point, or what--

The phone on the nightstand rang, and Kurt made an audible groan as he got up off of me, ending the kiss, and reaching for the receiver.

"Hello?" he spoke, licking his lips after speaking. I looked down at my legs, taking a weird and sudden interest in the few freckles on my thighs. Wow, I needed to shave my legs, too. How did I let myself go this long without shaving?

"Yeah, she's here. No, nothing happened, Jesus Christ, do you really think I'd fuck with someone I barely know? I'm not like that!" A couple seconds passed by. "We'll be there in fifteen. Okay, okay, ten. No, goddamnit, Greg, five is unrealistic. We'll be there as soon as we can. Bye." He hung up the phone, looking extremely agitated. He walked across the room and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his torso in one movement. I was slightly disappointed.

"By the way, nothing happened outside this room, right?" I asked him hesitantly, and he stopped in his tracks, staring at me. I couldn't make out what his expression was saying, but he did not look amused.

He brushed my question off with a shrug, nonchalantly raising his eyebrows and pacing around the room as if he were looking for something. "No, Erin, absolutely nothing happened," he grumbled, continuing his pacing. I watched him for a few seconds, but he looked at me and waved his hand around in the air. "Get a move on, we have to be back at the trailer in less than ten minutes."

I felt myself grimace as I stood up and gathered my things. Had I said something wrong? I saw Kurt getting more and more visibly angry as the minutes went by.

"Your bandmate is an asshole, by the way," Kurt snarled, grabbing his wallet and his lighter, walking out of the motel room without another word.