OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

sixty-eight.

           THE RETURN HOME to Seattle granted Reagan the biggest breath of fresh air that she had taken in awhile. From the moment her and Dave's plane touched down at the Sea-Tac airport, she had been overwhelmed with relief, her mind miraculously clearing like fog once she took in the haloed clouds of mist hanging over her favorite city.

As promised to herself, Reagan had spent the last few days of February revolving herself exclusively around the little realm of paradise that she and Dave had created. It had been easy for her to slip comfortably into that mindset; from the moment she had walked through the door of their apartment, she had been met with nothing except sheer delight.

"No way!" Reagan had shouted, dropping her bags. Sitting proudly in the center of their tiny living room and taking up its usual mammoth amount of space was Richard's old drum kit, complete with Reagan's lucky drumsticks lying on the snare.

"Did you know about this?" she'd exclaimed, running over to the kit and eagerly touching the fading gloss on the toms. Dave had grinned back at her guiltily.

"Yeah, I did. Kate called once you flew out to meet me Hawaii and asked if it would be okay. I said sure, told her where the spare key was and then Robbie and your dad drove out to set it all up."

Her heart had immediately swelled. Giving up the kit must have been a sacrifice for both Robbie and her dad — Robbie, because he'd decided to finally take up drumming, and Richard because of the weight of the memories that the kit carried with it. Their love, as well as their support, had been made abundantly clear in the gesture.

After gawking a little longer over the image of her childhood drum set sitting in the apartment, she'd called home to thank Richard for the surprise. He had sworn that it was nothing, insisting that the kit rightfully belonged to her and missed her company anyways. She had bit her lip through a smile as he'd said so. He'd always talked like that — as if instruments had feelings, namely the beloved kit that he'd hauled around for years.

"Think of it as an early baby shower gift," Richard said.

"I'm not having a baby shower, Dad. No way. And if that's the gift, don't you think it's a bit contradictory to having a soon-to-be newborn in the next room over?"

Richard had laughed and conceded that his daughter was right, but reinforced his original point, which was that it was important that Reagan be reunited with the drum set that had shaped and molded her character since she'd been old enough to play. She had thanked him several times again, promising to visit soon.

Shortly after making that promise, Dave and Reagan visited the Abner household the next day, driving to Olympia for a home-cooked meal and quality time with Reagan's family. Kimberly had impressed everyone by remaining on her best behavior, going as far to even ask Dave questions about Nirvana's tour though Reagan knew her mother could barely understood half of what made touring so special to a band. It hadn't mattered. She was just happy to see her family functioning normally for once, especially in the presence of Dave, who only seemed to add cheer to any room he walked into.

The first of March rolled around swiftly and left Reagan thinking about the weeks she had left to endure being pregnant. May fifth had been slated as her due date and as far as she was concerned, it could not come soon enough.

"My back hurts," she complained to Dave. They were sitting on the couch, Dave juggling both of Reagan's sock-clad feet and a guitar in his lap.

"I'd say that I'd rub it for you, but I'm in the middle of pairing these chords to this bridge and —,"

Reagan lifted one foot in the air and jabbed it towards Dave's face. He caught her ankle and pushed her leg back down, narrowly missing the playful dig of her heel into his cheek.