Decades

A Runaway, Sticky Notes, and Determination

The morning had fully rolled around before Stevie finally slept. She started to leave when she came back to her bedroom, but she was just too weary. Too exhausted to make the call, she didn't want Karen questioning her about the early hour or her reasons for leaving. She had been miserable when she climbed into bed. She was still miserable. Only now, she was tossing and turning, her dreams of loss and loneliness. She slept until almost dusk.

Stevie needed an iced tea. She debated about having Karen, her assistant, bring her one when she picked her up. But, she was dehydrated from last night's tears, she supposed. So, she slipped on her bathrobe and slippers and quietly walked downstairs, hoping Lindsey wouldn't hear her.

She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with ice from the refrigerator door, then opened the fridge and reached for the tea pitcher. There was a sticky note attached to it reading, "Stay put, Stevie." She rolled her eyes and removed the note, pouring herself a glass of tea, drinking it down, and refilling her glass before returning the pitcher to the refrigerator.

When she started to open the refrigerator door for the second time, she noticed another sticky note. "Stevie, DO NOT LEAVE."

"What was he on about?" she wondered. Of course, she was leaving. Their time here, together, had to end. After last night, she was reminded that getting past their baggage wasn't a possibility. They'd done what they'd always done: set up a little cocoon, allowed themselves to fall back into those stupid, old feelings, only to be reminded that they were never meant to be.

And what a low blow he'd made to her about not having a family.

She had chosen not to have a family. But, did he not realize that partially that was because she'd been waiting to do it with him if she ever were to do it? Another family, just any family, wasn't something she would have settled for.

And she loved her career. She loved her independence. Why did everyone have to diminish her choices and make her feel less than because she had pursued her talents rather than having a husband and kids? As if she didn't understand about love and sacrifice because she hadn't? Why would Lindsey, especially Lindsey, see her that way? After all that she had sacrificed for him?

She didn't hear him in the house and hoped she could pack and leave without any more contact. She'd have her manager contact his team and let them know that any songs they'd already completed could be used on the album. And if he needed any further vocals, to outline them for her, and she'd be glad to put them down.

She knew Lindsey would do his best producing this project. It was close to his heart, so she didn't even feel like she'd need final approval.

Obviously, she wouldn't tour with this, and she'd rather not participate in a press push, but she was an adult and a professional and knew that some of that would be required of her. She also knew what it would mean to their fans. So, obviously, she would agree to a couple of appearances, just not a long tour.

She hurried up to her room and began packing. Karen would arrive shortly. She had packed her things and moved around so often that she was extremely efficient. In no time, she was packed and ready. She made her bed, got dressed, and made her way down the stairs. As she closed the door to her room for the final time, there were two more notes adhered to the door.

Stevie read Lindsey's blocky black penmanship against the yellow squares. The first said, "I AM SO SORRY!" in capital letters. The next read in small, cramped letters, "I know you think we're done. But we're not. People disagree, and they work it out. We can work it out. We're too old for this. So, please don't go!"

Part of her loved that he wanted her to stay. It proved he was as hopeless about her as she had always been about him.

She resisted the urge to stay. She needed to get away. She had spent too many years on this love/hate hamster wheel and felt things would never be resolved. It had been wonderful being close to him again. However, the hurt had started again, and she just wanted off now that the pain was in sight. She hoped it would be easier to walk away this time since they hadn't started sleeping together again.

When she arrived at the door, she slipped on her sneakers. Another note was stuck to them, "Even if you run away, I'm coming after you. Might as well save me the trip. Please stay." She wanted to stay.

But, she was reminded last night a little too acutely of how many times he hadn't taken a risk on her. It was almost like he preferred their tragic relationship with pockets of love and romance scattered among the heartbreak and longing rather than trying to build a real life with her.

And at this stage of her life, she wasn't going to be the other woman again. As she reached for the door, another note was stuck to it. "I knew you'd leave. But, I'll see you soon, you hard-headed woman."

—-------------

When Stevie had gone to her room the night before, Lindsey wanted to chase her. He wanted to bust down her door and tell her all the things he felt and the dreams he still had for them. He wanted to hold her and make love to her and never let her go.

But he'd hurt her with his words that night. And he had hurt her with his actions over the years. What she had said about him not taking risks for her was insulting. In his mind, he'd sacrificed his happiness so she could move on. It was a shift in his thinking, seeing it from her point of view.

He thought about what she'd said to him as he got dressed. He would try to move quickly and to hurry back, but what he had planned would take a while. Lindsey knew Stevie well enough to know that at the first sign of trouble, she'd be gone. So, he took a pad of sticky notes from the kitchen drawer and scattered them all over the house. He knew she wouldn't see them all, but she'd see some of them.

He wrote notes asking her to stay and letting her know that even if she walked away, things between them weren't over. Though they both knew things would never actually be over between them—no matter their distance.

He made phone calls on his drive and employed the assistance of a couple of old friends. But, by day's end, he'd accomplished what he wanted to. He met his kids and Kristen for dinner while he was in the city. It was very late when he turned into the driveway of the house he'd been sharing with Stevie. He'd tried to phone the landline there, but there had been no answer throughout the day. Though, he was still hopeful that she might have stayed.

His hopes were doused when he approached the house and saw that it was dark. He knew better than to get his hopes up with Stevie, but that had never stopped him before. Old habits died hard.

He unlocked the door and walked into the empty house, which had felt like their home, and he had an overwhelming sense of sorrow. Lindsey was practiced in the art and the ritual that was missing Stevie Nicks. He knew how to do it too well.

He poured himself the remainder of her iced tea from the pitcher in the refrigerator and saw that she'd removed the note. Good. When he looked around, he saw that she'd taken several with her. So, he knew she'd at least found some of them.

It was cool out, but he wanted to sit on the porch where he'd spent so many of the best evenings he'd had in years with her. Her cashmere blanket was out there still, and he pulled it over him, imagining how she'd looked in the candlelight. He wouldn't give her up, he'd determined.

When he got ready for bed that night, after rehashing fifty years or more worth of mistakes with Stevie, he didn't go into his empty room. He climbed the stairs and slept on the mattress on the floor that he'd shared with her the night before. He felt sad for the years he'd missed with her, but as he drifted off, his determination to make things right with the love of his life had never been stronger.