"No, I'm not," she says, her eyes burning into me. I give her a confused look, and the doors fly open. She's whisked away on a stretcher and we call an end to rehearsal for the day, since no one is really sure what else to do.
I give her a couple hours, then show up at the hospital. I know it's a bold move, considering the current state of our relationship, but I've got to know what's going on. I pass Christine just outside her room and she seems reassuringly calm.
"Just exhaustion, they think," she explains and I nod, knowing that Stevie didn't give her the full story. "She's awake, though. They're going to keep her until tomorrow morning."
"Okay. I'm just going to go check on her. I'll see you tomorrow, Chris," I say, giving her a hug and quick kiss on the cheek. When we're on the road, this is the closest we've got to family. Chris was always the rock among us, and I'm honestly glad she got to Stevie first. I open her door slowly, and she stares at me for a minute, not reacting at all. "Hey."
"Why are you here?"
"I can't just come by and check on you?"
"We don't do that anymore, Lindsey."
"I want to know what's going on. Why did you tell everyone you weren't pregnant? It was just the band."
"Because I'm not anymore." At that moment I notice that her swollen belly has disappeared. She should be bigger, not smaller.
"You..."
"I miscarried. I'm still in the process, actually," she says dismissively. "I was taking something for the pain that didn't sit right with me."
"Wait, you're..."
"Yes, Lindsey, I'm still bleeding. I was far enough along that I had to deliver a dead baby girl three days ago, and it's maybe been the worst week of my life, okay? Now you know." I realize that I've barely completed a thought since I sat down. She looks completely hollow right now. That's the only word I can come up with to describe it. Her lack of emotion is incredibly unnerving.
"I'm so sorry." I can't think of anything else to say.
"I can't think about this yet. We have rehearsal in the morning and a very public event tomorrow night and then I can deal with it."
"Stevie, you shouldn't be onstage right now," I begin, stating what I think should be incredibly obvious.
"I also shouldn't have gotten on a plane this morning and flown across the country. I guess I've made a whole bunch of bad decisions this week."
I know that arguing with her is pointless. She's already committed to performing. "Who was the father?"
"I'm not discussing this right now, Lindsey."
"Okay, okay," I say, relenting easily. My curiosity is going to have to wait. "What can I do for you?" At this moment I feel so awful for her that I would do anything she asked.
"No one else has any idea what's going on and it needs to stay that way," she says seriously. "I'm going to get through tomorrow and then I'll go home."
"I really think you should..."
"I don't care what you think I should do. I don't care what anyone thinks I should do. Don't come in here and act like you have any idea what's going on in my life, Lindsey. We've barely spoken in years. It's not your job to take care of me."
I'm too scared to say anything else. Apparently I'm going to have to be even more delicate with her than I thought. "Fair enough."
"You just happened to see me before everyone else. That's all. I met with you because I assumed you were going to find out anyway, but things obviously changed."
"You came out here alone?" I realize that whoever the father was let her travel this week, and I suddenly feel protective.
"With Kelly," she says. "She is not aware of my situation." She knows what I'm asking and is doing her best to ignore my veiled probe for information. I have no idea how she managed to keep it from her, but I know better than to try to ask any more questions.
"Please let me know if I can do anything at all for you. And I mean that, Stevie." She gives me the same blank stare she gave me when I came in. "You're here for the night, right?"
"Yes. They promised me I could be out in time for rehearsal tomorrow."
"Do you want company? Do you want something to eat?"
"No and no."
I'm trying not to take her distance personally, but it isn't easy. "Okay. The number for my hotel is on your nightstand. If you need anything at all..."
"I'll be fine. I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow." She pulls a book from the table beside her and opens it, confirming that it's time for me to go.
