Running Down A Dream

It Was A Beautiful Day

Santa Monica, California
Sunday, October 2, 2022
(11:30 pm)
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"You're asking the wrong person, Stevie. He hasn't told me a thing...just that he's coming home."

Stevie paced back and forth on the terrace, the cordless landline phone in her hand, wondering if John was telling the truth. Pulling closed the gray cable-knit cardigan she wore for the coolness of the October ocean breeze, she closed her eyes for a moment and tried really hard not to let it make her think "your shining autumn ocean crashing." If she did, she'd think of the night before Thanksgiving 1969, walking through Golden Gate Park with Lindsey, and the way he'd told her she was like a stormy autumn ocean as he'd wrapped his open coat around her for awhile to warm her up because he'd seen she was freezing. If she thought about that night, a whole year before the first time he'd actually held her for the first time because he loved her, not because she was cold, John would hear her cry.

"Look, John, I know it's a boys' club over there when you all hang out and smoke pot and play music and whatever it is you guys all do together...but it's not betraying his confidence if it's serious! If Lindsey is...you know...I have a right to know! My God, John, I've known him since he was sixteen years old! If you and Chris were estranged and she were dying, you'd want to know, right?"

"Stevie, nobody is dying," said John. Stevie could hear his exasperation. "'Health issues' could mean any number of things."

"Lindsey turns seventy-three tomorrow," Stevie reminded him. "None of us are getting any younger, John. If he has a serious health issue going on, I think he'd tell people he's close to...and you and Mick and Christine are some of those people!"

"I love how you see things only in Fleetwood Mac terms," John said with obvious sarcasm. "He has a family, you know."

"I certainly don't think that I need to be reminded of that." She took a deep breath, tried not to get angry. "John..." She lowered her tone. "Have you seen him lately? How does he look?"

There was silence for a moment. Finally, John volunteered some information.

"He looked okay when we had dinner in West Hollywood about a week before he left for Europe." Stevie closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. "He ordered an Impossible burger...trying to stay fit, he said. He was still swimming, still working out."

"Did he mention his heart at all?"

"No." Stevie finally exhaled. "Stevie, if you're going to drive yourself crazy over this..." He paused again, and he could feel Stevie's anticipation, her worry. "Look. It was the three of us - me, Mick, Lindsey. We said let's all get together once for all of our birthdays because we'd all be doing our own thing for awhile. We met in West Hollywood, we had a round of drinks, we ate. Mick showed us pictures of his blues band tour and a few videos of him and Dave Grohl, we talked about Taylor Hawkins a bit...and the topic of mortality came up. We talked about how so much time had gone by and all, how Brett Tuggle's death was just as big a shock as Taylor Hawkins' death, and Lindsey looked a little uneasy. Then.."

"Then?" Stevie could feel her heart pounding. "Then...what, John?"

"He took a pill box out of his pocket, swallowed two pills with the water from the table. I don't know what they were, but like you said, we're not getting any younger...hell, I take a bunch of pills a day and I know you have things you take too...they could have been anything. He didn't say anything about it, neither did we. We split the check, we all left separately."

Stevie tried not to sound desperate, but she couldn't help herself. She asked, "Where is he living now?"

"He's in the Brentwood house," John explained. "Apparently it was Kristen who moved out...I don't know where to, but all of the kids are out of the house now, so..."