there is a dream left

A/N:
This is my first ever story, but this idea took a hold of me and wouldn't let go. I have to thank/blame sistersofthemoon13 for her (terrible) influence and unwavering support. And of course, for telling me I can write in the first place. 💕

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He listened to the phone ring in his ear. Once, twice...

He could blame it on the late hour, or the tension he had felt throughout the day. He had pretended he didn't know the source of it, of the restlessness that had plagued him throughout the afternoon, right around the time he knew the ceremony would be starting. He had put on a happy face during dinner, listened politely to Kristen and his daughters talk happily about their day. But he knew it wouldn't hold, and sure enough, here he was, awake at 1am and for the first time in a year, he had done something he hadn't allowed himself to do - search out videos of his former bandmate. Former bandmate - that idea still punched him in the gut every time he thought about it. As he watched her accept her award, watched the video clips that preceded her introduction, he was instantly transported into the past. How far they'd come, he'd reflected with as little bitterness as he could manage.

The phone rang for a third, then a fourth time. He didn't even know what he was going to say. He had felt compelled to call, had almost done it automatically, without thinking. He rolled his eyes at his own impulsivity as he listened to the ringing in his ear. What was he going to do, leave a voicemail? He could just picture it. "Oh hey Stevie, what's up, it's been a year, anything new?"

Suddenly the ringing stopped, replaced by silence. He sat up straighter, listening intently. Nothing. Just as he wondered if Stevie had picked up the phone only to hang up, he heard a rustling sound, a deep breath, and a soft voice he hadn't realized how much he had missed until this very moment. "Hi."

He froze; he hadn't actually thought of what he would say if she answered the phone. He sputtered. "H..hey there."

The silence returned at the end of the line. Funny...he had attempted to get her to talk to him for over a year, had spent months wishing he could just hear her voice again, have a moment to connect with her. Now that it was here, was actually happening, he had absolutely no idea what to say. Her silence wasn't helping.

He shifted in his seat. "So, um...do you remember that day in 1968 when you spilled chocolate ice cream all over your new skirt?"

He heard her pause, and then she finally spoke, her voice incredulous. "What?"  

He had no idea what he was doing. "It was July, and you had just bought that blue peasant skirt. You know, the one with the ruffles? You wore it for our first show with Fritz?" She didn't say anything. Determined, he pressed on. "It was so hot, and we had just finished rehearsal, and you asked me if I wanted to stop for ice cream on the way home. So we did and you kept teasing me, telling me you weren't going to let me try your chocolate fudge cone, even though you knew it was my favorite. You ended up spilling it all over your new skirt and I told you that's what you got for teasing me. You didn't speak to me that whole ride home. Do you remember that day?"

"Yeah, Lindsey. I do. What's this all about?" He heard the uncertainty in her voice. He wondered if she was regretting answering the phone.

"I was thinking about that summer today. The ice cream. The skirt. Rehearsal. I haven't thought about that day in a long time. I wondered if you remembered."

"You called me in the middle of the night to ask if I remembered a random summer day in 1968?" She sounded tired. He wondered if she was getting enough sleep. He wondered why he cared.