A Karat of Patience

Chapter Eight

A/N: Explicit self-love scene ahead. Thanks, Katy, for being the best Beta ever!

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Christine spent the next few weeks creating and writing music like she had never left it. Each song touched on various aspects of her life and what she had been through, painting an intimate portrait of who Christine McVie was today. There were some she knew would never see the light of day—they were too personal and revealing. Others, which were a collection of heartfelt gifts to her fans who had never stopped believing in her, she couldn't wait to share with the world.

She and Lindsey spoke regularly over Skype, swapping rough demos and giving each other feedback. Their collaboration and resurrected partnership took Christine back to when they started writing together for the Fleetwood Mac album in 1975. It was symbiotic and exciting and they still remained on the same page musically after all these years. Christine sensed they were creating some of their best work yet, and she felt safe and comfortable with Lindsey to reveal the backstories behind her more vulnerable songs.

She spoke candidly to him about Game of Pretend, a plaintive ballad written about Christine's psychiatrist who had helped her slowly rebuild her life after a seemingly never-ending period of darkness and isolation.

"The verses sort of morph into a love song, but the chorus is about how happy I am that he came into my life," Christine explained to Lindsey one night. "Do you think it's too cheesy?"

"No, I think it's wonderful," Lindsey said. "I'm really happy you can share an experience that's so personal to you. That is what our music is all about."

"Thanks," Christine replied. "I feel the same way."

Lindsey paused before asking hesitantly, "Can I ask you how bad it was? Your isolation, I mean."

Christine was quiet as she thought about those horrible years. After her year-long relationship ended, life became a beige cloud, washing the colour out of everything so all that was left were feelings of emptiness and hopelessness. Days filled with excessive drinking and anti-depressants surfaced in Christine's mind, as well as her codeine dependence after she'd fallen down the stairs and hurt her hip. Sleep became troubled and perverted, and Christine spent night after night battling with her mind to switch off so she could descend into oblivion. Instead, she'd lie there for hours in some sort of sleep paralysis, her mind wired with stress hormones and anxiety as she mulled over everything that had gone wrong in her life. And when sleep finally came, it plunged her into a deep darkness that kept her underwater for what felt like days.

Simply put, it was one of the worst times of her life, and Christine wasn't ready to fully delve into it again.

"It was...hard to say the least," Christine answered vaguely. "But I'm doing a lot better now and I don't want to really focus on it. I'd rather just make music."

Lindsey seemed to understand that Christine didn't want to talk about her past and was surprisingly sensitive towards her feelings. "Well, I'm proud of you for getting through it and returning to your passions."

"Thanks Lindsey. That means a lot."

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While Christine and Lindsey were hard at work, Stevie was yet to contribute any of her own material to their project, blaming her busy schedule and upcoming appearances on Oprah's Master Class and the SXSW Music, Film + Interactive Festival in Austin. Christine had her own theories as to why Stevie was keeping her distance. She vividly remembered Stevie's jealousy and anger when she and Lindsey rehearsed World Turning for the first time, and suspected Stevie's aloofness was a rehash of her past resentments and insecurities. Christine was trying to figure out a way to gently ask Stevie about it when her phone rang at around seven in the morning.