The Gift

Just A Rumour?

**** Canada - February 1977 ****

Christine found herself tossing and turning in her hotel bed for the umpteenth night in a row. She lay on her back wide awake focusing a dark spot on the ceiling she'd been staring at for too long. She had wondered if somebody had just crushed an insect up there or if it was something even more disgusting. After a while she decided it was probably best she didn't know. John was snoring next to her like a sawmill, contributing even more to her insomnia. She usually didn't mind John's light snoring as it meant he was next to her and that fact gave her comfort, tonight however, he remained passed out in exactly the same position Mick had dropped him a couple of hours earlier as he'd been so drunk he had to be carried up to their room. The thoughts were spinning around in Chris' head like a merry-go-round as she lay awake next to him wondering if it was all still worth it. Their latest album, John had titled Rumours one random day at the studio, had struck the world like an atomic bomb. The album soon became one of the best selling albums of all times sending the band that is Fleetwood Mac flying as high as they'd ever been. The tour they were in the middle of right now was equally as successful. Every night sold out stadiums and tightly packed auditoriums. This atomic bomb shone as brightly as possible, but sadly, it was just as poisonous. Everything seemed to be so utterly perfect, except the fact that there were huge cracks appearing behind the scenes. Cracks so enormous they had already swallowed Stevie and Lindsey's relationship and Chris and John's was merely hanging on by a thread. John's drinking had worsened, if that was even possible, and lately, the possibility of reconciliation seemed to drift farther and farther away. The more she thought about her relationship with John the more frustrated she became, because she just couldn't understand why he wouldn't change. He would tell her how much he loved her the entire day, kiss her and hold her hands, but as nightfall broke he'd become a completely different character. He'd slur at her, make fun of her in front of everyone, yell at her as he pleased. She was sick of it. She was also sick of staring at that god-damned spot on the ceiling turning over on her front, burying her head into the pillow in agony. She had thought long and hard if she still loved her husband. In all those sleepless nights she'd had lately she'd asked herself that same question over and over and as much as she just wanted the answer to be 'no', she would just be lying to herself. It would be so much easier to just leave him, tell him she was sick of his behaviour and that he'd made the bed and now has to lie in it, if she didn't still love him so damn much. She knew, however, if she had to go on like this any longer taking his alcohol-drenched insults at her expense, she would lose her mind. She would take her fair share of it but one time would be one too many. After a while remaining flat on her stomach she had to turn back over as her breasts were feeling so strangely tense she had to relieve the pressure. She hated the side effects her new birth control pills were having on her. She had no other explanation as before she'd started taking them she didn't suffer from any of the symptoms she'd recently been experiencing. She'd been on the pill forever, as getting pregnant was something she really wanted to avoid like the plague. The pills she had taken before had given her head-splitting migraines so she stopped taking them some weeks ago and asked her gynaecologist back in LA to send her a new brand. The new ones arrived fairly quickly and they didn't give her headaches but she'd found herself more often than not nauseous and tired which was just equally as annoying. Additionally, the tour was allowing few to no time for rest and she found herself on many occasions just wishing it was all finally over. 

The next morning she was staring at her own reflection in the mirror finding herself to look horrible. She had no idea at what time last night, but at some point the annoying dark spot on the ceiling had disappeared as she must have drifted off to sleep. The heavy bags under her eyes however fostered the suspicion it hadn't been much sleep she'd gotten. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn't even realised that John was approaching her from behind. It was only as he slung his arms around her kissing her neck that she zoned back into reality again. The stale smell of leftover drunk and cold cigarette smoke felt like a kick to her gut.