say hello wave goodbye

54: but I just need one good one to stay (1997)

November 1997

"Steeeeevie! Stevie, open the door. I wanna talk to you. Steeeevie..."

She had nearly fallen asleep when she heard the loud, plaintive whining coming from the hallway and for a second, it felt like 1976 all over again with Lindsey wasted and pleading outside her door. Goddamnit. Maybe she should've taken Karen up on her offer to stick around and stand guard.

After waiting for a few minutes because she doesn't want to reinforce this behavior by giving in too quickly, the dogs start whimpering in tune with him and she swings her legs over the side of the bed, standing up and reaching for her robe.

"Your daddy is teaching you bad habits," she scolds them as they follow behind her.

She pauses with her hand on the doorknob, Lindsey obviously having heard the yapping getting louder. "Hey mutts...wish you knew how to work a lock, huh...Stevieeee?"

"Stop making an ass of yourself and get in here," she says in the same voice that she uses with the dogs when they misbehave, opening the door and tugging on his sleeve. "What are you even - are you lost?"

He scoffs, frowning. "I'm not lost. 'm drunk."

"You are, and I don't like it." She's seen him tipsy in recent months on rare occasions like her birthday or Thanksgiving, and it didn't bother her because he was harmless enough and she herself had been indulging too. But today he had been buzzed before they even went onstage, and once the show was over he just seemed to lose all sense of restraint. She'd mostly ignored him at the after party, shooting glances at him as he sat in the corner and drank while she chatted with the girls, and then she left before she could find out if he'd be able to make it up to his room successfully. Guess that one was a no. "But I really want to go back to bed, so-"

"We can't talk?" he asks, depositing himself on the couch as she hands him a water bottle from the mini fridge.

She stands over him, hands on her hips. "About what?"

They hadn't really talked about much of anything, not since the night before when she had walked out of his room with him yelling her name after her. She had showered to rid herself of his scent and then sat up alone until dawn, thinking but never reaching any conclusions.

"Are you still mad that I kissed you?"

She closes her eyes and sighs. "Is that really what you came here to ask?"

"Yeah," he says after a long pause, like he was trying to decide whether or not that was the right answer.

"I'm not mad," she answers honestly. Of all the things to be mad at him for right now..."I just wasn't expecting it. We didn't exactly rehearse it that way."

"Is'like you said," he slurs, "in case this was the last show. I always wanted to do that."

She had said it before they went onstage; taken his hands in hers and said she knew it was difficult for both of them, but she wanted tonight to be good just in case they didn't get another chance. And it was good, forgetting about everything that was waiting for her and putting her all into those last few hours. She even managed to keep it together during Silver Springs this time - although afterward, he looked so genuinely bereft that she pulled him into a tight hug and squeezed her eyes shut as he touched his lips to her ear and murmured "I love you. Now and always."

"Know what else I always wanted'a do?"

"I do not, no."

He looks up at her and then over at the empty couch cushion beside him, silently requesting that she join him, but she rejects the offer. "I wanted to introduce you as my wife. 'This song was written by my wife, Stevie.' You know?"