November 1992
I am in a fog, all self inflicted.  Every time I turn on the radio or t.v., I hear "Don't Stop" or see concert footage of us playing it.  Christine's anthem for John has turned into a presidential fight song.  It's flattering, but I am officially sick of this song!  I've started to hear rumblings from my management team the President-elect would like Fleetwood Mac to play "Don't Stop" at the inauguration.   I knew it was coming, but the reality is, the 5 of us haven't played together in years. 
In recent years, I've retreated into my own world away from the Mac.  I have not been taking care of myself in more ways then one.  Klonopin has become a staple in my life and I can't make it through the day without it.  It's replaced cocaine as my crutch.  Since Jessica's arrival last year, I've started to ask for help, but I just can't quit completely.  I've realized she is my legacy and I need to be here to tell her all of my stories.  I have my good days and my bad, but I still need it.  It's also lead to weight gain. I am not happy with myself these days. 
The band, namely Mick, has been trying to get a hold of me for days.  I ignore, deflect and retreat.  I know why he's calling and I am going to avoid it for as long as I can.  My manager finally confirmed it, Fleetwood Mac to play the inauguration, however, no one has connected with Lindsey.  I know the band will expect me to sort that because the unspoken truth is, I am the reason Lindsey left the band.   He couldn't be around me anymore.  I haven't really seen him since that fateful day in 1987.  I miss him down to my core.  No matter how fuzzy I am, he's still my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night.   Our final blowup in '87 was WW3.  We've had ugly days and encounters but this was epic.  The scariest part is, I never thought I would see him again.  Klonopin numbed the pain, but now it's time to come out of my haze
Sitting in my living room with my old journal in my lap, I am reliving the darkest parts of 1987.  The doorball woke me out of my trip down memory lane. Someone answered the door, I assume my assistant?  I heard voices in the foyer, one in particular. I'd been avoiding everyone for so long, but this voice from my not-so-distant past was calming and soothing.  I am so happy she's here
"Stevie love, how are you?"  Leave it to Mick to send Christine.  Quite the ploy Fleetwood. 
Actually seeing her in my house brought tears to my eyes.  I was in her arms in a second.  I saw how she looked at me, but I didn't care.  I missed my friend.  She looked me in the eyes and wrapped in the warmest hug possible.  I was in pain and Christine knew it.  After an hour of mindless chatter and tears, she came out with it, 
"We have to do this Stevie.  The only way I will do this is with all five of us.  You know Mick, John and I are in.  Deep down, I know you want to do this too.  We need you to call Lindsey.  The only way he will do this is if he knows you want him there too"
Of course she was right, but I never like anyone telling me what to do. 
"Christine, I am the reason he left.  Why on earth do you think he will listen to anything I say? "   Tears rolled down my cheeks
"Darling, he left because he loves you.  He left because he couldn't watch you slowly die. Watching you during the making of "Tango" almost killed him.  He was waiting for that one phone call that would tell him the drugs finally caught up with you.  The man was terrified every day we made that album.  He had to remove himself  because he couldn't watch you deteriorate before his very eyes."
I couldn't make the tears stop.  As Christine spoke, my entire life with Lindsey flashed in my mind's eye like a movie reel.  The home movies of our life.  Christine moved closer and held me close.  I started shaking.  It didn't go unnoticed by her.
"Love, you need help again." It was a statement.  I nodded, the words wouldn't come. She was right, I needed help, and I needed Lindsey.  I always needed Lindsey.
Christine stayed for another hour and calmed me down. I promised her I would make the call.  My nerves had the better of me.   How ironic, I can stand up in front of millions and sing for hours without an ounce of stage fright, but one man can still turn me into a bundle of nerves. 
"Just pick up the phone Stevie!"
The internal war with myself raged for an hour.  Finally, I picked up the phone and dialed the numbers I knew so well.  It rang for an eternity.  I was debating, do I leave a message?  And then, I heard it,  "hello?"  A voice so mellow and soothing.  Had I really not heard it in almost 6 years.  
"Lindsey, it's me"