Chapter 8: Delusional
I met Wayne Caffrey only a few months into my new life as a widow, as we held auditions, for lack of a better word, for either a drummer or a guitar player. Since Taryn could do either one, it made it a little easier to find people. If we found a drummer, she’d stay on guitar; if we found a guitar player, she’d go back to drums. The flexibility allowed us to meet more people. The three of us - Taryn, Blake, and me - thought it would help create some normalcy in our lives if we just kept plugging along as a band. It would be a distraction, one that I was so desperately seeking.
In the days and weeks immediately following my husband and step-son’s deaths, I had withdrawn from most of my family. Natalia and Chelsea were off dealing on their own, and I couldn’t comfort them. I couldn’t look at Troy without seeing how much he looked like Oliver, so I just stopped looking at him at all. When Parker laughed, all I could hear was Richard. Madalynne, our former little symbol of hope was now a constant reminder that I’d lost everything. Their stays with Richard’s parents grew from a couple days at a time to weeks without a set end date. Parker once asked me “Do we live at Gramma Mitzi’s house now?” and I truly couldn’t answer him.
But in pushing them away, I robbed myself (and them, really, so I’m still amazed they turned out okay), of the comfort that only family can provide. I only made myself worse, and I foolishly believed that continuing to push forward with the band was the thing that would put me back on track.
We thought we’d found a guitar player in a gentleman named James Lollo. He was an accomplished songwriter (and Taryn was ready to put the moves on him immediately), and we started to rehearse together, started to put a setlist together, started thinking about hitting the road. We had a bunch of photoshoots scheduled, and that was when he decided he no longer wanted to join us. He said we were too concerned with looking like some pop group. Taryn explained to him that we were more than just some band who played music at people, we were performers, we wanted people to see us, and even more than that, we wanted people to see him and know that he was part of us, that’s why we wanted some new publicity photos. He still didn’t care, and he bailed. Square one.
The three of us debated returning to our trio roots, but then Wayne arrived.
We had forgotten about the talent scout that we contracted to help us search, so when she called, we were initially a little confused. She told us we had to hear this guy play. He was originally from an electronica act, so it took some convincing to get us to agree to an impromptu audition, but we did. As it turned out, I already knew him. His bandmate was a woman that I sought guidance from very early in my career. Under her tutelage, I had also met my (late) friend Riley ter Laak.
While Wayne didn’t offer the sound we had hoped to find, what he brought to the table was so much more. It was a chance for us to create a new sound, perhaps something that our fans could grow with, something that would distinguish this band from the one we used to be. This was Angels of Hellfire, A.R. (after Richard), and I was pumped to push forward. Anything to get myself back to the person I was, not this shell of bitterness and anger and despair.
I’d be lying if I said I remembered everything clearly. When people say “whirlwind romance” this is exactly what they mean. After just a few rehearsals together, it became clear that Wayne was interested in me, and I’m not ashamed to say that I reciprocated. Less than a week after I told him I wasn’t ready for anything, he kissed me. And I wanted more. So he gave me more, and yes, I mean that quite literally. And while I was telling both myself and him that we would take things slow, we were already moving too fast. Way too fast.
I felt guilty. I felt like I was replacing Richard. Tatum and Taryn both insisted that there was no way to replace him, that even if I was suddenly dating five different guys, nothing would come close to what Richard and I had, and they both reassured me that wanting to move on was normal, that no one expected me to just sit back and be a depressed widow forever. After all, I wasn’t even forty and, as they put it, I had “needs.” Wayne was more than happy to address those needs, and he did. Constantly. To look back now, I’m pretty sure we were like that annoying couple in high school, when they first discover sex and that becomes their number one priority, where they bail on friends because it’s their only ten minute window to get naked together, and they’re not even discreet about what they’re doing. I used to think my appetite for Richard was high, but it was nothing compared to the cravings Wayne stirred up for me. If there was a surface to sit on, lay on, or lean against, we put it to use.
It was probably nauseating to everyone we knew.
But I didn’t complain.
I learned to compartmentalize my feelings for Richard. My infatuation with Wayne in no way diminished the love that I would always have for my husband, so I gave in to it. And it was the first time in two years that I felt like I was starting to live again. I was flying high on relationship bliss, I started to re-establish as a band, we were succeeding again - we had a new sound that the fans loved, a sound that attracted new fans, Wayne had a fanbase that gradually became ours - I had my life back.
At the very least, it felt like I had my life back. There are times even now when I look back and I wonder how much was real and how much was me buying into the fantasy that Wayne 'Delusional Mindfreak' Caffrey had created for me. To say that he was a distraction from the rest of my reality is an understatement. He was like a drug, a drug that I used excessively to mask all my pain, to hide from the reality of my life.
It was during the Reign of Wayne that I hit one of my lowest points in life - the day that my eldest daughter told me she was pregnant. My very first thought wasn't about comforting her, or telling her we'd get through it together, no, my initial thought was jealousy. How dare she get pregnant so easily while it took me so long to get pregnant with her. For the record, the following day I was much better able to conduct myself like a mother, particularly the mother of a scared teenage girl, but this was my first self-realization that I had really lost myself. The second came just before my granddaughter was born, during a screaming match with Chelsea. She'd finally had enough of the obviously manufactured version of myself that I'd become, and held a mini-intervention. Of course, I did not want to hear anything that she was telling me, and our exchange grew louder and louder until I told her to leave my house and never come back. To this day I don't know where she went, and stubborn as she is, she has never told me (nor do I expect her to), but I suspect she spent the next week with her grandparents. I had to issue my apology to her through subterfuge, crashing her band's recording session.
I was convinced by my daughters to take a family trip - sans Wayne - to our home in Lake Como, Italy, and it was here that the proverbial veil was lifted. When had Parker and Madalynne gotten so big? How did Troy already look like a young man? Was I seriously about to be a grandmother? Were my oldest preparing their own musical career? How much had I seen but not truly experienced?
The trip was the wake-up call I needed. But of course, with every two steps forward, there's a step back, so while I understood that I needed to take my life back and I began to do so, that also meant I had to face said life again head on, without hiding in my little infatuation. And it meant I had to tell Wayne that we needed to take a break or slow down, or whatever we needed to to to allow me to get my head back on straight. He did not really care for that, and I can't say I blame him. We'd been going hot and heavy for almost two years at that point, how do you suddenly stop?
In the end, I gave him an ultimatum: We slow down so I can truly heal, or we end this so you're not a distraction. He chose to walk away, and he never looked back. He left me, he left the band, and I was alone again.
I experienced something of a regression, This was that step back from the two steps forward. But this allowed me to truly grieve, to get through all of the stages of grief, as I had never properly navigated it yet. This time around, however, I made it to acceptance. I was a widow. I couldn't change that. All I could do was take care of myself and my family. I welcomed my granddaughter into the world, I slowly reconciled with all of my children, and Taryn, Blake, and I got to work on crafting our new sound all over again.
That's when another Richard crashed into my life.
In the days and weeks immediately following my husband and step-son’s deaths, I had withdrawn from most of my family. Natalia and Chelsea were off dealing on their own, and I couldn’t comfort them. I couldn’t look at Troy without seeing how much he looked like Oliver, so I just stopped looking at him at all. When Parker laughed, all I could hear was Richard. Madalynne, our former little symbol of hope was now a constant reminder that I’d lost everything. Their stays with Richard’s parents grew from a couple days at a time to weeks without a set end date. Parker once asked me “Do we live at Gramma Mitzi’s house now?” and I truly couldn’t answer him.
But in pushing them away, I robbed myself (and them, really, so I’m still amazed they turned out okay), of the comfort that only family can provide. I only made myself worse, and I foolishly believed that continuing to push forward with the band was the thing that would put me back on track.
We thought we’d found a guitar player in a gentleman named James Lollo. He was an accomplished songwriter (and Taryn was ready to put the moves on him immediately), and we started to rehearse together, started to put a setlist together, started thinking about hitting the road. We had a bunch of photoshoots scheduled, and that was when he decided he no longer wanted to join us. He said we were too concerned with looking like some pop group. Taryn explained to him that we were more than just some band who played music at people, we were performers, we wanted people to see us, and even more than that, we wanted people to see him and know that he was part of us, that’s why we wanted some new publicity photos. He still didn’t care, and he bailed. Square one.
The three of us debated returning to our trio roots, but then Wayne arrived.
We had forgotten about the talent scout that we contracted to help us search, so when she called, we were initially a little confused. She told us we had to hear this guy play. He was originally from an electronica act, so it took some convincing to get us to agree to an impromptu audition, but we did. As it turned out, I already knew him. His bandmate was a woman that I sought guidance from very early in my career. Under her tutelage, I had also met my (late) friend Riley ter Laak.
While Wayne didn’t offer the sound we had hoped to find, what he brought to the table was so much more. It was a chance for us to create a new sound, perhaps something that our fans could grow with, something that would distinguish this band from the one we used to be. This was Angels of Hellfire, A.R. (after Richard), and I was pumped to push forward. Anything to get myself back to the person I was, not this shell of bitterness and anger and despair.
I’d be lying if I said I remembered everything clearly. When people say “whirlwind romance” this is exactly what they mean. After just a few rehearsals together, it became clear that Wayne was interested in me, and I’m not ashamed to say that I reciprocated. Less than a week after I told him I wasn’t ready for anything, he kissed me. And I wanted more. So he gave me more, and yes, I mean that quite literally. And while I was telling both myself and him that we would take things slow, we were already moving too fast. Way too fast.
I felt guilty. I felt like I was replacing Richard. Tatum and Taryn both insisted that there was no way to replace him, that even if I was suddenly dating five different guys, nothing would come close to what Richard and I had, and they both reassured me that wanting to move on was normal, that no one expected me to just sit back and be a depressed widow forever. After all, I wasn’t even forty and, as they put it, I had “needs.” Wayne was more than happy to address those needs, and he did. Constantly. To look back now, I’m pretty sure we were like that annoying couple in high school, when they first discover sex and that becomes their number one priority, where they bail on friends because it’s their only ten minute window to get naked together, and they’re not even discreet about what they’re doing. I used to think my appetite for Richard was high, but it was nothing compared to the cravings Wayne stirred up for me. If there was a surface to sit on, lay on, or lean against, we put it to use.
It was probably nauseating to everyone we knew.
But I didn’t complain.
I learned to compartmentalize my feelings for Richard. My infatuation with Wayne in no way diminished the love that I would always have for my husband, so I gave in to it. And it was the first time in two years that I felt like I was starting to live again. I was flying high on relationship bliss, I started to re-establish as a band, we were succeeding again - we had a new sound that the fans loved, a sound that attracted new fans, Wayne had a fanbase that gradually became ours - I had my life back.
At the very least, it felt like I had my life back. There are times even now when I look back and I wonder how much was real and how much was me buying into the fantasy that Wayne 'Delusional Mindfreak' Caffrey had created for me. To say that he was a distraction from the rest of my reality is an understatement. He was like a drug, a drug that I used excessively to mask all my pain, to hide from the reality of my life.
It was during the Reign of Wayne that I hit one of my lowest points in life - the day that my eldest daughter told me she was pregnant. My very first thought wasn't about comforting her, or telling her we'd get through it together, no, my initial thought was jealousy. How dare she get pregnant so easily while it took me so long to get pregnant with her. For the record, the following day I was much better able to conduct myself like a mother, particularly the mother of a scared teenage girl, but this was my first self-realization that I had really lost myself. The second came just before my granddaughter was born, during a screaming match with Chelsea. She'd finally had enough of the obviously manufactured version of myself that I'd become, and held a mini-intervention. Of course, I did not want to hear anything that she was telling me, and our exchange grew louder and louder until I told her to leave my house and never come back. To this day I don't know where she went, and stubborn as she is, she has never told me (nor do I expect her to), but I suspect she spent the next week with her grandparents. I had to issue my apology to her through subterfuge, crashing her band's recording session.
I was convinced by my daughters to take a family trip - sans Wayne - to our home in Lake Como, Italy, and it was here that the proverbial veil was lifted. When had Parker and Madalynne gotten so big? How did Troy already look like a young man? Was I seriously about to be a grandmother? Were my oldest preparing their own musical career? How much had I seen but not truly experienced?
The trip was the wake-up call I needed. But of course, with every two steps forward, there's a step back, so while I understood that I needed to take my life back and I began to do so, that also meant I had to face said life again head on, without hiding in my little infatuation. And it meant I had to tell Wayne that we needed to take a break or slow down, or whatever we needed to to to allow me to get my head back on straight. He did not really care for that, and I can't say I blame him. We'd been going hot and heavy for almost two years at that point, how do you suddenly stop?
In the end, I gave him an ultimatum: We slow down so I can truly heal, or we end this so you're not a distraction. He chose to walk away, and he never looked back. He left me, he left the band, and I was alone again.
I experienced something of a regression, This was that step back from the two steps forward. But this allowed me to truly grieve, to get through all of the stages of grief, as I had never properly navigated it yet. This time around, however, I made it to acceptance. I was a widow. I couldn't change that. All I could do was take care of myself and my family. I welcomed my granddaughter into the world, I slowly reconciled with all of my children, and Taryn, Blake, and I got to work on crafting our new sound all over again.
That's when another Richard crashed into my life.
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