The Summer After Kurt Cobain Died

That June, I stole a red-and-black checkered flannel from my stepdad and frayed the hem with kitchen shears. The first two tracks of Nevermind played on repeat, windows rattling with the only lyrics I knew. Sweat clung to thick plaid fabric, soaking my training bra in the sweltering Texas heat, but I wore it like a promise—an act of defiance, a talisman of my grief, my devotion. My best friend Courtney asked to borrow it, and I said no. Kurt was mine, and she already had his wife’s name and that was enough. 

In July, Courtney and I rode bikes to the Cinemark across town, told our parents we were seeing The Lion King but snuck in to The Crow instead. Eight squirts of popcorn butter bled through thin paper bags—slick, oily puddles seeped into our laps as blood sprayed from necks and broken bodies flew off buildings. Afterward we stole half-smoked cigarette butts from the ashtray outside the box office and talked about how weird it was that Kurt Cobain and Brandon Lee were both adults, and our parents were adults, but the cool adults were dead and the alive ones didn’t understand us at all. Courtney flicked her cigarette at me and laughed when it singed a hole in my flannel. You’re not funny, I said, shoving her hard enough to stumble backwards into her bike. I forgave her the next day. Kurt probably had cigarette burns in his flannel, too.

By August, we sat on my daybed, sun-weary and anxious, wondering about junior high. If we’d hate our teachers, if we’d make new friends, if they’d still serve rectangle pizza for lunch on Fridays. An Ace of Base song came on MTV, and Courtney cranked the volume as loud as it would go. Have you heard this? she shouted, swinging skinny hips to the thumping bassline. It definitely didn’t sound like Nirvana, but it did sound fun, so we sang into hairbrushes and choreographed Swedish-synth dance routines until sweat matted bangs and unshaven thighs burned with exhaustion. I peeled the flannel from my body and tossed it across the room, convinced I’d put it on the next day. It sat in a crumpled pile for weeks. I never wore it again.