Decades

Here They Go Again

Stevie's anxiety was taking over as the car drove up the steep driveway to the house where they were making this record together. She was barricaded behind a thick wrap and big sunglasses. As she dressed, she was imagining armor. Silky, soft, smooth armor. But armor all the same.

They've talked on the phone a lot lately. They even Facetimed. His voice still reaches right inside her and can touch her deeply, whether he does it intentionally or otherwise. It feels like they never stopped communicating. They could always pick up where they left off without feeling like a minute had passed when that's what they wanted. Other times, they came in prepared for battle and fought that urge entirely. They were a strange pair.

On this drive, she wonders if that spark of electricity that comes from close physical proximity to him will still be there. That lightning flash of energy it gives her has always been addictive. She had checked into rehab twice and overridden her addictions pretty cleanly. But, her addiction to this man and the music they made together is something she'd never been able to fully shake.

She knows not everyone gets to experience that kind of passion. She's not sure if it's been a blessing or a curse. While it can envelop her in energy, creativity, and excitement, it also can consume her and burn her alive, ripping her soul apart if she isn't careful. Stevie knows this well. Proceeding with caution, though she reminds herself regularly, has never been her strong suit. Especially with this man.

She valued the work she'd done over the years, she'd worked hard on her health and her sobriety. Her voice sounds great, and her songwriting is the best it had been in ages. But, as hard as she has tried to separate from him, they're still so often inspired by Lindsey.

They agreed that they needed new music to release a Buckingham Nicks anniversary album. Somehow, all these years later, Fleetwood Mac was finding new fans on TikTok. Their record sales, which had never gone away, were climbing the charts.

Lindsey convinced her that if their original album, with those beautiful two-part harmonies, was going to be enjoyed by the masses, now was the time. To tour successfully, the duo needed more original songs. She lamented that they were solo artists now, so reaching back to that time might be difficult.

He reminded her that the Rumours album was difficult, and ugly and, complicated, and passionate, and angry, too. That fire was what made the work great. This time, they weren't breaking up. They told each other that they could just remember the warmth of their early past, not get caught up in a conflagration that would leave them both injured and needing years to move forward.

Neither of them truly believed they'd come out of any collaboration unscathed. They were willingly walking into the fire.

She adamantly refused for a long while, trying to let her better angels guide her path. But, eventually, he wore her down with a text. She did use a phone from time to time these days, and he knew it.

"We lost each other because of the music. We'd be fools again if it were all in vain. We forced ourselves to spend our entire lives dancing around it. Isn't it time we made it count?"

He watched the dots on his phone move, waiting for a reply. After a full two minutes, none came. He inhaled deeply and pecked out this text.

"Buckingham Nicks. One last dance. I always thought you'd save it for me."

Well fuck, Lindsey. What could she do with that but come ready to dance?