Say Goodbye

Thinking On The Days Of Old

The Drake Hotel
Saturday, September 14, 2003
(1:30 am)
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Whatever bedroom Stevie had in any house, apartment or hotel, she'd always found a way to make it home.

As Lindsey made his way through the small hallway that led to her room at the Drake Hotel, all he could see was Stevie for miles. He saw the two little dogs resting comfortably in a circle around each other in the pink dog bed, dog toys and bowls of water and kibble on the floor in their area. He saw stacks of unfinished sketches and various pencils and charcoal crayons. He saw stacks of CDs beside the mini stereo on the mantle. He saw open luggage that was made by Tumi and quite expensive and spilling over with her real clothes, not the capes and ballerina skirts she wore on stage. He saw the television tuned in I Love Lucy and its black and white glow of another generation, as she'd sung about preferring in "Silver Girl" on their latest album. He saw her recording equipment in the corner, a stack of notebooks on top of a tape recorder. He saw the turned-down bed that was so large a departure from the mattress on the floor where they'd started out over thirty years before, and just for a moment, he saw the girl who used to sleep there in it with him when they had not a dime to their names but still had each other, and he had to look away from her eyes because seeing that girl tonight was took much on his soul.

"Shoot," Stevie said, flopping onto the end of the bed and sitting cross-legged in her pajamas. Looking up at him, her face devoid of makeup and looking so much younger than its fifty-five years, said, "What's this favor you speak of? Does it require me to stay up tonight? Because I'm actually exhausted."

Lindsey couldn't help but laugh as he sat down beside her on the bed, ignoring the fact that once upon a time, they would not have been sitting up in pajamas on a hotel room bed but lying there in each other's arms in nothing at all. He began a bit uneasily, saying, "You know I'm filming my Soundstage on Monday."

"I know," Stevie said with a smile. "That's awesome." She looked so genuinely proud of him that it was even harder now to look in her eyes.

"Well listen...I know it's short notice, but I have the rehearsal tomorrow and I realize there are contracts and all but we'll work it out...I really want you up there with me, Stevie. At least for part of it."

Lindsey watched as Stevie's face registered her shock. "Lindsey...are you serious?"

"I wouldn't be up there Monday night if it weren't for you, Stevie. We started this thing as partners, you and me...you know that the Buckingham Nicks album turns thirty this month?"

Stevie's eyes dropped down to her lap. "I know." She'd been trying not to think about it, but ever since Lindsey had told her about the new baby, her dreams had been haunted by a young man with a mess of long dark curls fiddling with an Ampex tape recorder in the back room of a coffee plant late at night, singing the words she'd written after the first time he'd held her in his arms...

"I turned around...and the water was closing all around...like a glove...like the love that had finally, finally found me..."

"Stevie?"

Slowly, she became aware that Lindsey was waiting for her response to his request. She looked up at him blankly, the lyrics about a clear water fountain and a magnet to the sea slowly flowing away.

"What?" She looked up at him, blinking, trying to snap back to reality.

"Will you sing with me? 'Say Goodbye' and 'Never Going Back Again'?" He turned in towards her, taking her hand and looking at her in all sincerity. "I'm very proud of my accomplishments, Stevie, and I take credit for my work...but I began this with you, and half the songs I've written are about you...I need you up there with me, angel. You're my inspiration."