sisters of the moon (stevie nicks)

rhiannon

"she rings like a bell through the night,
and wouldn't you love to love her?"

now this one was different. very different. this was a year later, after that first kiss with julia. i had been seeing her in secret from fleetwood mac, but during the making of tusk my cocaine use had become more frequent and more serious. we argued, but she had a way of arguing where she just tried to talk me out of it, to convince me that she wouldn't let me drive myself to death. i didn't listen, and my dependence on the drug made me angry at her. i shouted. she cried. it was a mess.

i had agreed to come to the studio to record with the band, and left early to get away from it all. but fair curly hair caught my eye from the end of the corridor i was in. i was going to turn to the door where fleetwood mac were going to be recording for the day but the sight of her stopped me. she was there, with her clipboard and leaning against the wall, next to a door, nearly blending in. she didn't look up as i stared. i glanced past her to see a toilet door. perfect.
i walked down past her, as far to the opposite wall from her as possible. i kept walking as if i was going to the toilet, but on the way, i took a sideways glance at her clipboard and saw that she wasn't writing, she was drawing. a portrait. i stepped through into the toilet and made my way into a cubicle. i sat on the lid of the toilet for a few minutes. then i stepped back out again, washed my hands and peered into the corridor. the girl was no longer there. i felt a bit deflated but walked back towards the recording room. i really was easily distracted.
stepping into the room, i realised i really must have been early as no one else was there. i sank into one of the spinny chairs in front of a mixing desk and craned my neck backwards, to the ceiling. i thought of the girl. who was she drawing? who was she? then i remembered the door she had been standing beside. i wasn't really in the mood for writing. so i got up and stepped back out into the corridor, then to her door. i knocked and waited until she appeared. she had a pencil tucked behind her ear and over her shoulder i saw an armchair with a coffee table beside it. on it was a mug of something warm and a small notebook set facing downwards so it's page was kept. the clipboard was there too, the portrait staring at the ceiling.
"hello?" she questioned, her light eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.
"hello. I'm-"
"yes, Stevie Nicks. what do you want?"
i was surprised by her blunt answer. i didn't know what to say. why had i come?
"i... my band hasn't arrived yet and i thought i'd say hello." i said, pathetically.
"well, you've said hello. anything else?"
again i was startled by her tone.
"may i see your portrait?"
this time it was her turn to look surprised.
"oh- I- yes." she turned and walked towards the coffee table, picked up the clipboard, unclipping the drawing. she studied it and didn't seem to be turning back to the door, so i took that as an invitation in. she looked up as i shut the door and handed me the sketch once i'd turned back to her. i took it gently and was surprised to see my own face staring back at me. she had drawn me.
"well?" she spoke in a tone softer than before.
"it's really beautiful." i said after a pause i took to stare at how the pen lines had been placed so carefully on the paper. i flipped it round to find a letter of something formal. i didn't bother to read it.
"would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked. i nodded.

five minutes later she was sat in the armchair with a fresh cup of coffee and i was sat in another spinny chair opposite her with mine.
"what do you write?" i asked, referring to her music. i assumed she would be a musician, seeing as we were in a recording studio.
"a little poetry, but really i draw. and play guitar." she said between sips.
"huh. so you don't write songs?" i said, wondering what on earth she would be doing in this place if she didn't.
"not professionally. i come here every so often when i'm in the mood though. it's soundproof. good for concentration."
this place costed thousands of dollars to rent for just a few days. and she came just when she was "in the mood"?
"my band are working on an album here. Fleetwood Mac." i said.
she sipped her coffee and said nothing.
"the progress we're making is very
slow. late starts and late finishes are usually pretty useless." i continued. still she didn't reply. this was quite frustrating.
"very interesting. do you read?" the sudden subject change was unexpected. i was quickly learning that nothing with this girl was expected.
"occasionally. if the book is good. and if i have the time."
"hm." she seemed satisfied with my answer. "i think you'll find this book very good, and you'll find the time to read it." she handed me a book from the coffee table in front of her. what? a book?
"oh. thank you." something about her made me think it was best to just take it.
"anyway, i must get back to my work. i'll see you around." i took this as my cue to leave. i smiled briefly and made my way to the door. she got there first and opened it for me. i stood in the door frame and turned back towards her, opening my mouth to say something. but the door had already closed. i shut my mouth and furrowed my brow. what had just happened? that was certainly the most strange conversation i'd had all week. i took a look down at the book in my hands.
it was Triad by Mary Leader.

*

i realised only after spending the next two hours reading in the recording studio alone that i hadn't caught the girl's name or, really, anything about her. mick walked through the door and made me look up from the book for the first time.

later that night i was sitting back in the chair and i had just turned the final page of the novel. i closed the cover. my notebook and pen lay just within my reach. and so i reached for them and sat and wrote about the mystery of the woman and of the eerie novel in a poem. a poem full of just as much mystery. and the name of that poem was Rhiannon.