I throw myself back into work. I'm not really sure what else to do now. Mick, Christine, and John were all excited to move forward with the tour. Apparently they're getting a couple of our old friends to fill in for Lindsey. I'm not thrilled with the whole concept, but I don't really have much bargaining power at this point. I know that I've been barely present for the past year and a half, maybe longer, and they need me on this.
Rehearsals start quickly, and before I know it I'm packing to go out on the road again. Kelly and I are racing around the house the night before we leave, trying to get everything in order. Part of me feels like I just got back. Part of me feels like this is been the longest two months of my life, and I'm ready to run away again.
The idea of going on the road without him is absolutely terrifying. No matter what goes on between us, he's always my anchor. None of our solo tors of been nearly as long. There's a reason for that. I don't know how to do things without him when it comes to performing. Something about his presence next to me on stage has always made it so much easier, for whatever reason. There's something comforting about having someone who knows you better than you know yourself when everything around you is constantly changing.
I know Christine is still upset with me. We never talked after I came back. Not really, anyway. She still doesn't know everything that went on, but I know that she holds me responsible for Lindsey leaving. Everyone does. I promise myself that the first thing I'm going to do is fix things with Chris. I'm going to survive this, I'll need her.
Somehow I manage to avoid everything for the first couple weeks. I keep trying to convince myself that I just need to get my bearings, then this will be easier. I know on some level I'm lying to myself. Tonight, I'm sitting in my dressing room after the show, ignoring everyone around me. I'm sure there's a party or interview or something I've managed to flake out on, but I don't care much. I'm starting to think about another album, and writing has started to become a priority. I am sitting on the floor scribbling away.
"Stevie, what the hell are you doing?"
"Well, I have a pen and a book in my hand," I say sarcastically. I regret it immediately.
"You missed another meeting."
"I'm sorry."
"Come with me," she says, grabbing my arm.
"I'm not ready, my things..."
"Kelly will handle everything here, won't you?" Kelly nods, somewhat frightened by Christine's tone. I give her an apologetic glance and follow Christine, managing to snatch my purse on the way out.
"Let go of me," I say yanking my arm away from her. "I'm coming. Don't treat me like a child."
She rolls her eyes and leads me to the car. "We're going somewhere we can talk," she says, opening the car door and waiting for me to climb in. Before she even asks any questions, I start spilling my guts. I tell her everything about rehab and Lindsey and Richard and how awful I feel on the road with people that have no business being in this band. She listens, and I realize at some point that we've been parked outside a hotel for a long time.
"We can go inside," I say, wiping tears off my face. She helps me out of the car and we slip through a back door and into the hotel bar. Christ has an open bottle of wine waiting for us on the table and I laugh a little as we sit down.
"I know this is hard. And I'm sorry about everything. It's really hard to even imagine what this year has been like for you." Sympathetic Chris wasn't really what I expect, but I'm so grateful for the kind words that I just close my eyes and collect myself. "You know we can help you through this. I know he's not here, but Mick and John and I are. We're all still in this together. It's weird having Billy and Rick with us, but they're doing well, and we need to keep going forward. I think we've all been preparing for this longer than you have. We've always known that one of you would eventually go. It's just too intense."
I nod. "I didn't think it would be him."
"Well, we honestly didn't, either," she says smirking. "We always assumed that your fans would drag you away from us."
"I don't know what I'm doing, Chris."
"Survive this tour. Go home and make another solo album. Then we can revisit what everything looks like. But you've got some incredible things to write about. You work well when you're hurting. You need to write. You know that."
"I'm trying. I miss him so much."
"We all do, honey. And I can imagine you're feeling a little lost. But if your recovery over the past few months has taught you anything it should be that you don't need anyone but yourself. You're not nearly as delicate as you look."
"It's not fun. I always said I'd stop if it wasn't fun."
"Get through this. We've only got a couple months. And you can talk to me, okay? Us girls have to stick together," she says. "We're even more outnumbered now."
I laugh a little and reach across the table to take her hand. "I'm so glad you're here. I've been dying to talk to you and had no idea how."
"Well, some wine never hurts," she says, lifting her glass. I clink mine against hers and laugh, suddenly incredibly grateful for her.
So I do what she says. I get through the tour, barely surviving. I don't talk much or do anything beyond what is required of me. I spend most of my nights writing. By the time we get to the end, I realize I have a ton of new material and I'm actually excited to go home and do something with it.
I start dabbling, recording demos in my house, retreating into my songs for the first couple weeks back in Los Angeles. Part of me hopes Lindsey will show up on my doorstep to help. He never does, even though I know he has to know I'm back. After a while I stop hoping. I fore myself to stop thinking about him at all. It's time for Stevie Nicks, not Fleetwood Mac. Stevie Nicks albums don't need Lindsey. I can do this.
I repeat this to myself as I'm fumbling around with a riff. "He used to love to be behind those walls with her..." the words still hurt as I sing them, but I am too focused on the music to let myself think about the words. I catch a reflection in the mirror when I look up and spin around quickly.
"I didn't mean to startle you. I could see you were playing and I didn't want to interrupt..."
"Lindsey, what are you doing here?"
"Space was a bad idea."
