Say You Will Part 2: The Tour

Too Many Flowers To Cut Down

Schottenstein Center
Columbus, Ohio
Wednesday, May 7, 2003
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"I'm not sure about 'Running Through The Garden'. I think it makes the set too long and it's one too many new songs."

Stevie and Lindsey were walking through the labyrinth of hallways backstage at the Schottenstein Center arena at a pace much like that of the fast-paced walking that made Stevie dizzy every week when she watched the actors do it on The West Wing. Marty Hom, their tour manager, was trailing behind then, talking to Mick, and Stevie had two large curlers rolled on top of her head, the rest of her hair in a ponytail. She was already dressed for the stage except for the fuzzy pink slippers she wore on her feet, still embarrassed at the hip injury she'd sustained not to long ago and what that said about her age, but still, she was not going to wear her enormous stiletto heeled boots on stage tonight. Instead, a pair of sensible black shoes were sitting beneath the vanity in the dressing room thanks to Karen, for Stevie to step into at the last possible minute.

"I think 'Running Through The Garden' is a beautiful song...what's the difference if they set is a little longer?" Lindsey was holding her hand as they walked, something they did around others backstage all the time, and with Stevie's nerves the way they were tonight, she was grateful that a long, tumultuous history with Lindsey meant that if they were affectionate in this almost chaste way with each other, no one batted an eye. They certainly had no idea that with the exception of rehearsal and sound check, they had spent the better part of three days holed up in Stevie's hotel room, ignoring invitations to dining, drinking and shopping, claiming headaches and bad backs and exhaustion when in reality, they had been reluctant to leave the bed for longer than it took to use the bathroom, order room service and shower - which they had done together twice already. Sunday night had been all about sleep; the promises of more unhurried lovemaking out the window after Stevie had had one too many martinis at dinner and Lindsey had begun to yawn before it was even ten o'clock, and they had retired to her room with every intention of picking up where they'd left off before dinner but had fallen asleep to a PBS telethon on television featuring a CD collection of classic rock and doo-wop hits of the 1950's for sale before midnight, the song "Duke Of Earl" creeping its way into Stevie's dream and making her think of the fifth grade.

With a good night's sleep under their belts, they had been refreshed enough to withstand rehearsal as well as hours of an endless slumber party, alternating between conversations in bed, making love, shoveling bowls of pasta from room service into their mouths while watching TV, and somewhere in the middle of a bowl of tortellini in Alfredo sauce and a Marx Brothers movie marathon in her pajamas beside Lindsey on Tuesday night, Stevie had begun to have that thought, the one she got in her head when they had time alone to be the way they used to be thirty years ago, holed up on the mattress on the floor and eating spaghetti because it was cheap and watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show on Saturday nights...

This is exactly how we would be at home together if we had gotten married.

"I don't know...I just think it's a little top-heavy with Say You Will songs and we need to remember people came to hear 'Dreams' and 'Go Your Own Way' too." Stevie knew her reasons for wanting to cut the song sounded flimsy, but she was not about to share with Lindsey the reason why she wanted to cut it most of all - she was afraid her own lyrics would make her cry. She was already terrified of what it would do to her to sing "Goodbye Baby" at the end of the show, which was why she had insisted it be her last song on purpose...so that she could disappear to collect herself before they came out to bow at the end in case she started crying.

Showtime was upon them, and as the hour neared, Stevie's anxiety was growing, every bit as much as that fourth-grade talent show she'd performed in in El Paso, Texas when she'd honestly believed she was getting a stomach virus and told Barbara as much because she was nine and it was 1957 and she didn't know what a panic attack was yet. Lindsey could sense her anxiety as he pulled her off into a dark corner just outside the dressing room, where two women stood huddled together to complete her makeup and hair.