It's Not Easy

Is it too much to ask?

I can't believe we're on tour. I told myself, whatever Stevie tells me, I'm saying no, this is crazy! And it really is, but I understand. She feels responsible the last tour didn't happen and she doesn't want it to repeat again. We sat down, Mick, John, Stevie and I, to talk. We didn't explain them why we can't go on for a long tour, like we usually do and I don't think Mick even cared for a reason, as long as we agreed to do this. No more than two months on the road, that was our only condition. It will give us enough time to promote the new album and also remind our fans that the members of Fleetwood Mac aren't dead yet. We'll play twenty dates through September and October and continue on with our lives.

~

“Guys, we need to go out soon! We can’t be late!”

“I know, but Stevie isn’t feeling too well, give her another few minutes.” Mick says, as he, myself, John and one of the crew members are standing outside Stevie's dressing room.

“But we’ve already waited those extra minutes, we must get you out on stage in a few!”

“Gee, seriously!” I yell in frustration. “We can change the damn setlist if that means my wife gets some much needed time to rest a little more.”

“Lindsey, we can’t do that, no.”

“Then they’ll wait, the fans paid a lot, so they’ll wait.”

“No! I need you to be out there like... now!”

The door flies open and Stevie's in the doorway, staring everyone down.

“I was in there.” She shows to her dressing room. “You don’t have to fucking yell and make my headache even worse.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie, but you have to rush.”

“Oh for god’s sake!” She throws her hands up in the air. “I’m sorry that my unborn child is acting up and not letting this show start on time!”

Everyone falls silent, jaws dropped, eyes wide. “Your what?”

“A baby that I and Lindsey are expecting.” This won't continue now. “Well. Can we please go?

~

“You’ve been a great audience! Thank you so much for coming out here and supporting us tonight. We’ll see you again soon!” Mick thanks the crowd after our very succesfull ninth show and we all take a bow.

I take Stevie's hand firmly in mine and we quickly disappear into the backstage area. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Been better.” She takes a bottle of water from the staff member and takes a big gulp of it.

“But nothing out of the ordinary?”

“No. I’m just feeling a little sick and the headache is coming back.” I pull her into my arms and we stand like this for a moment before the rest of the band joins us.

“Stevie…”

“Mm?”

“How are you doing?” Mick asks.

“Can we pretend I didn’t say any of it, so you don’t start treating me as if I had ‘fragile’ written on my forehead?”

“Don’t you think we should talk about this?”

She exhales deeply and leads the way to her dressing room. John and Mick sit down on the couch, I take a seat opposite them and Stevie sits on my lip. “What do you wanna know?”

“How long have you been touring like this?”

“Like what, Mick? I’m not sick, it’s not contagious.” Even she admits, she's become a little snappy lately. “Sorry.”