False Starts || Dave Grohl

Chapter 55

"Everything Fades In Time, It's True"

Present

Toronto, ON

My lungs fill with smoke as I stare out at the calming Toronto skyline, absentmindedly flicking away ashes as my cigarette burns out on its own.

When I moved here in 2008, the goal was to leave my past life behind. Forget about the 90s like they have me over time, but I don't see that being much of an option anymore.

For a while, it seemed like things were finally going to get better.

I had quit smoking with the help of my brother and Frances, built my own recording studio from the ground up, made a name for myself in the industry, and finally accepted the fact that I needed help from a trauma therapist. Every aspect of my life was moving in a more positive direction until 'Wasting Light' was released to the public.

My curiosity got the best of my one afternoon in Target. It had been a few years since I saw anything from the Foo's, and for a while I thought they had taken a hiatus to raise their children in peace. The black and pink cover design was compelling enough to make me reach for it, and to this day still I regret it.

Every degrading memory and negative emotion returned at the mere sight of 'Dear Rosemary' in bold ink. My inner demons deciding that it was the perfect time to flash me back to Nirvana's messy 1992 dressing room in Dublin where I first laid eyes on the blue notebook with Kurt's messy handwriting inside.

Dear Rosemary,

...

What a shitty way to catch your ex-girlfriend off guard David...

My pack of red Marlboro's sits half empty on the railing next to me, a glaring reality that I'd broken my promise to Frances in just a few short hours. If she wasn't out with Amy right now, there's no doubt in my mind that she'd have my head on a platter for fueling my inner nicotine addict.

The two of us renounced the habit together, and now I don't think I'll ever be able to stop again.

As I light up yet another cancer stick, I can't help but glance at the five paparazzi members stationed on the street below. They seem bored, uninterested even, due to the lack of action.

A part of me wants to waltz down there with my cheap bottle of Titos and give them the story they're looking for. The heartbroken music producer who drinks herself to sleep every night because she misses her big bad Hollywood boyfriend, but that wouldn't be the truth.

It would just place me in an even worse spot with my lawyers than I already am since they're trying their damnedest to ward off unwanted press. 

"Hey..." I recognize Casey's calm voice as she crawls through the open window to join me on the fire escape. "I'm here if you want to talk."

I roll my eyes before taking a drag, "I don't need a therapist."

"No, you need a friend." Her statement is one of finality as she picks up the small white and red box next to me, taking notice of its emptiness before sliding the pack into my jacket pocket. "I'm here for you Rose... I've got your back."

When I don't say anything, the red-haired girl latches onto my wrist with her hand. Something is forcibly placed between my thumb and pointer fingers before she pulls away completely, staring me in the eye expectantly.

"If you plan to make it through to the other side of this, you need to get the full story." My heart plummets to my stomach as I catch sight of the familiar black and pink CD case. "You don't have the balls to call Dave and ask him for answers directly, but you studied enough music theory and lyrical writing courses at Syracuse to find these answers on your own."