one-hundred-thirty-five.

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           LINDY'S LIFE WAS on the line — or at least, that's she warned herself of as she stretched up onto the tips of her toes in an effort to hang sparkly red and green garland over she and Kurt's fireplace.

"Shit," she cursed as her foot nearly slipped off the ladder that she balanced on. She wobbled, catching herself on the jutted ledge of the fireplace and wincing when she imagined falling to the wooden floor.

Spending her Christmas with a broken neck wasn't exactly what she'd planned.

"Linds, I can do that," Kurt suddenly said, appearing around the corner to the living room and hurrying to his wife's aid. He wasn't exactly the king of decorating, but he also would have preferred Lindy to not end up in a neck brace. 

"No, stay down there," Lindy cried, batting him away with a wave of her hand. "I know exactly what I'm doing this with the garland. It's got to be hung the way I envisioned it."

"Are you sure? Because just a second ago, I thought you were about to pretty much eat the ground with your face."

"This is the sacrifice that I make to ensure my house looks nice for Christmas."

Lindy could have done without the usual flair and fuss of hanging Christmas decorations, but then again, she never grew tired of cherishing the fact that she had her own house to actually decorate. After Hannah had died, Lee's willingness to spruce up her childhood home for the holidays never persisted. She felt it was only natural that she take advantage of her freedom to celebrate now.

Her first priority had been their Christmas tree, which stood at eight feet tall and had the power to blind someone with its many lights and shiny bulbs. Now all that was left was addressing her boxes full of cheery decorations, brimmed high from Lindy's frivolous collecting over the years.

"Heard from Charlie?" she asked, an automatic question she posed to Kurt whenever their son was on her mind.

It was like second nature for her to worry about him; it'd been two days since they had last talked on the phone and his cryptic text messages hadn't been enough to suffice Lindy that he was okay. She knew it had to be either Billie or The Finks causing him to go mute, but she would have preferred it to be neither of those options.

"Not yet," Kurt said, watching as Lindy carefully pinned the pieces of her garland strand up. He couldn't help but smile, watching her eyebrows scrunch together in a familiar look of concentration.

"He calls almost every day," Lindy said anxiously, though she trained her full attention on the garland rather than Kurt. "I hope he's not upset that I pressured him about the having-Billie over-for-dinner thing."

"You're fine, Lindy," Kurt reassured her, running the back of his fingers down her leg. He looked up, amused to see her standing several feet above him. She was now at a height of Krist-like proportions.

"Even if that's true, I've got to talk to him," Lindy started, attaching the last piece of shimmering garland and leaning back to admire her handiwork. She dusted off her palms and began to collect the pins that she'd placed on the fireplace ledge.

"I don't even know what he wants for Christmas yet. And if Billie is going to come over for dinner I'd like to know what she wants to eat, or what she'd prefer, and it wouldn't hurt if he'd at least tell me that he won't have band practice every waking moment of the — Kurt!"

Lindy's stream of conscious thoughts was cut short by Kurt as he wrapped both his arms around her legs and heaved her off of the ladder. She may have been petite, but Kurt also wasn't very strong, and she yelped when she wilted over like a flower in his grasp.

IN THE SUN ↝ kurt cobainWhere stories live. Discover now