It's inauguration day. During sound-check, Stevie was a lot more Zombie-like than normal. But as alarming as it was, we had boundaries today. Mick is still so unsure with me and Stevie, though the strangling happened nine years ago. Christine is too busy chasing after her son. He's only three but Little Carson McVie is a pistol. It's my week with the kids. Sara's birthday is in ten days. My wedding anniversary in twenty.

Our performance went better than I expected. It honestly felt really good being up there on that stage with those four people. And even better, looking at my kids in the wings with bright smiles on their faces. As we're packing up Sara looks at me.

"I'm going to tell mom I'm moving in with you permanently tonight." Sara looks at me.

"Okay, we're leaving in thirty minutes though," I tell her.

Not even five minutes later she's running back into the dressing room.

"Mom's not breathing." She's crying.

"What!" I yell.

"Come on." She's freaking out.

I sprint into Stevie's dressing room and see her passed out on the middle of the floor. Dropping to my knees, I look at her. She IS breathing. shallowly, so I grab her and with a lot of struggle I get her into the shower. I turn the water on cold and hold her under it she sputters waking up.

"Lindsey?" She asks.

"Angel, you passed out. Sara found you." I explain.

"Oh no. She didn't did she? I never wanted my children to see that." She cries.

"It's happened before?" I ask

"When I miss a pill time yes. And I missed one while we were performing. I need to go take it." She says reaching up and shutting the water off.

"I think these pills are doing you more harm than good," I tell her.

"Lindsey, they help me relax...and you ruined my dress." She pouts grabbing the pill bottle off of the counter and popping one. Very quickly it takes effect and the light goes from her eyes.

When we exit the bathroom Sara launches up and our seventeen almost eighteen years old crushes her mother in a hug sobbing.

"Sweetgirl, I'm okay," Stevie whispers hugging her.

"You were barely breathing." Sara cries.

"But I'm fine." Stevie sighs.

"No momma you're sick." Sara shakes her head.

"She's right Steph. When we get home I'll prove it ." I say biting my lip.

***

I share a hotel room with Stevie and we fly out together. All five of us walk into the big house the next day at eight in the evening. Stevie's doing her nightly pill pop so I hold my hand out.

"What?" She asks.

"You're taking two so I'm taking two," I tell her.

"It's my prescription Lindsey." She chuckles.

"I know and frankly my dear. I don't give a damn." I grab the pill bottle and swallow down two pills.

We watch a movie and drink some wine until about twelve-thirty, we take two more pills and go to bed cuddled up together. We wake up at ten-thirty and take two more pills. We both drink coffee and we go through our separate morning routines. We eat lunch at one and take another pill. After lunch, Sara and Josh go to the Byron's and Mason goes to his friend Matt's house.

"Linds, we're here alone. We could do something we haven't in a while." She winks.

"No Steph, I'm really not feeling well. I'm dizzy and I feel like I'm going to be sick." I tell her.

She pouts but lets it go and lays on the couch with me. At six we eat dinner and take two more pills. I'm half-way through my baked chicken when I sprint to the bathroom off the kitchen and throw up.

"Lindsey. Did I not cook the chicken long enough?" She comes in.

"No, the chicken was fine. The pills." I tell her.

"Oh stop it. I'm fine." She hisses.

"Stephanie, you've made the chicken the exact same way for twenty-five years. Nothing has changed except for that goddamn pill." I say.

"Clean the toilet when you're done." She says shaking her head. I let out a soft chuckle. No matter what she's still my same old wife.

We take four more pills two at eight and two before bed and when I feel the urge to throw up again at two-thirty I make it to the bathroom before passing out.

I hear him fall and then I turn on the light. I run over to him and see him laying in his own throw-up passed out. I call an ambulance and start cleaning him off. I change into leggings and a blouse just in time for the ambulance to cart him away.

"Mrs. Buckingham, If you could follow behind in your car." The guy says. I grab my glasses, keys, and purse and follow.

I'm sitting against the wall outside of his hospital room a tear slowly falling down my cheek. Flashbacks from Pittsburg running through my head, except this time it's not a brain tumor, it was an overdose. A possible overdose. That's a wake-up call.

"Mrs. Buckingham, we found alarming amounts of Klonopin in his system. We pumped his stomach. Do you know why he was taking it? Does he have epilepsy?" The doctor asks.

"He does but that's not why he was taking it. He takes Oxcarbazepine for his epilepsy. About seven years ago, I had a massive miscarriage. It honestly was quite traumatizing. I woke up in a pool of blood with crippling pain in my stomach. I didn't even know I was pregnant. A few months later, I started having awful nightmares about it. So a friend of mine recommended a psychiatrist. He prescribed Klonopin to me. I'm up to two pills every four hours. He keeps upping my dosage. My children and my husband have told me countless times that this medicine was doing something bad to me, but I didn't believe them. We were in Washington DC and our daughter. She's eighteen found me passed out. So when we got home Lindsey said that he was going to prove to me what the pills were doing. For the past twenty-four hours, he's been taking my pills with me. I realize now that I need help or I could end up In their very quickly. I cry wiping my eyes.

"Do you want to detox?" The doctor asks.

" I need to, but not until Lindsey's out of here. Our oldest may be eighteen but our youngest is eight and our middle is thirteen. They have to at least have one of us." I say.

"Okay, I can set a meeting up with our drug counselor. You can go see him now, he's a little groggy though. I'll be back to check on him later and then you call your daughter." He smiles helping me up.

"Baby?" I say walking in.

"Hey, Steph." He smiles opening his arms up for me.

"I'm so sorry," I say crawling in with him.

"No, don't apologize, you were only doing what you were told to do. I just hope you see it now." He shakes his head.

"I'm getting help. They day you check-out, I'm checking in." I sigh.

"Good. I love you, Stevie." He smiles.

"You haven't said that in so long." I cry.

"I'll always love you, Angel." He kisses my head and we close our eyes.

I call the house around ten, the kids arrive at noon. Lindsey is discharged at two.

I check in at eight the next morning. A suitcase in hand filled with books, pens, candles, and my pajamas. Sara and Mason understand. Joshua doesn't. We told him I was sick and had to go away for a while.