If You Were My Love (Double Love Series Part 1)

Tonight There Are No Saviors

Santa Monica, California
Monday, August 29, 2022
(10:00 pm)
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"It just slipped out! I was mortified!"

Stevie had caught the giggles. They were on her living room floor sitting beside the speakers, and the turntable Stevie had somehow kept in good condition since she bought it in 1981 was playing Buckingham Nicks for the second time over. They'd struck a deal in the car - they'd listen once for nostalgia, once to critique their earliest work. Stevie had asked him if he ever still listened to it, and he lied and said not in years. Does it count that whenever I sit down to play guitar at home alone my fingers automatically start picking out "Stephanie"? he'd thought to himself as they headed through traffic to Santa Monica. They were on Round Two of "Crying In The Night" and Lindsey had just reminded her about her saying "fuck" on stage during the 24-Karat Gold tour while explaining why she'd never performed the song live at a solo show. Her fit of giggles, he assumed, was due to the three hits of the joint she'd had somewhere on the first round of the album during "Races Are Run" when he'd pulled it from his pocket after she'd mentioned how stoned they were the night she wrote it.

"Well it was actually adorable," Lindsey said, stubbing out the joint in the sombrero ashtray she'd pulled down from a shelf. "No I take it back; it was your reaction to saying fuck that was adorable! The way you covered your mouth like you were eight years old and Barbara was going to hear it and punish you!"

"I think she did hear me and punish me! Like from the beyond! I had the worst headache ever after that concert and I think that was Barbara teaching me a lesson." Stevie's giggles subsided as her face grew more serious, and Lindsey knew she was thinking about her mother.

"I still miss Barbara," Lindsey said wistfully. "She was my mom, really...no matter what state you and I were in, I could always call her."

"She loved you," Stevie said. She was looking down at her lap.

Lindsey wished he had the courage to tell her that the last time he saw Barbara, just about two weeks before she died, her last words to him had been, "This love story isn't over, Lindsey. Jess believed that till he died and so do I. The two of you will figure it out one day, hopefully before you're in my spot."

He changed the topic. Stevie was beginning to look maudlin and they'd been having too good of a time together for the evening to take a turn. He said, "You said let's critique so I'll begin...excellent vocal on this one."

"Thanks." He watched her try to perk up a bit. "I had to change 'Dreams' around a bit for this tour...the old notes just aren't there anymore."

"Well it sounded great every show," he said, admitting without admitting it that he'd seen her 2022 performances. When she looked up at him, confused, he held up his phone and said, "YouTube."

"Oh. Well I don't know about any of that stuff. I see lights in the audience...I guess they're phones..." She shrugged.

Lindsey noticed that her mood had changed distinctly since he'd referenced her mother. She'd stopped being giggly and started looking sad, almost defeated in a way. Through the speakers came the voice of a young girl named Stevie Nicks who sang, "She's a come-on lady, she's the wrong kind of girl...She'll take your money and she'll wreck your world..." In front of him was a seventy-four-year-old woman who looked lonely, lost, almost left behind. Those were the three things he saw most coming from her eyes when she looked across the carpet at him and didn't know what else to say. He knew Stevie - had known her for over fifty years - and he knew when the tears were coming.

"Hey...what happened to the giggle-puss I was talking to just a few minutes ago?" he asked, scooting over closer to her across the tan carpet. He couldn't even begin to count how many times in his life he had sat on a floor somewhere with Stevie, music playing, and there were only two ways it usually ended - tears or sex. Sometimes it was both.