Chapter 519) Fall of the Phoenix

“Love is not enough. It must be the foundation, the cornerstone – but not the complete structure. It is much too pliable, too yielding.” 

~Q. Crisp

Windenburg Isle
Hayes Estate

Hey, it’s Sophie, long time no hear, I know, I said I’d keep you all in the loop – and I haven’t in years, I suck, I know, but I have five young children to raise and that is really a full-time job if you do it right.
My sister Emmy recently became a grandma by her oldest daughter Jaymie at 17, unplanned, Jaymie just turned 18 and is now looking for a home for herself, her fiancé Nathan and their baby boy, so I am of course part of the village helping out there too. Little Vince-y is SO cute! Sorry, I still get distracted by babies. Back to topic.

My own family. And me. Okay, the following is very hard for me to write, harder to explain in a way that even remotely makes sense, as NONE of it makes ANY sense to me. Still. And probably never will, so if it gets confusing at times, forgive me. I am trying to compress the events from almost an entire year into a compact little chapter. There is still so much more to be said, so much I shouldn’t say, and so much I can’t bring myself to say.

Our youngest, Indigo Blu, ‘Indie’, she’s 6 now and in school, gulp. Our oldest, our Spencer, is about to become a scary teenager, 13, in only a few more months, can you believe it? My baby Spencer in high school soon? How? The other three are the organ pipes in between those two. Robin is 9 now, Phoenix 10 and Keanu just turned 11. The big gap between the two youngest is because I lost triplets at some point and was rallying from the resulting depression for a long time, and the gap between our two boys was because Spencer wasn’t planned, but our second oldest, Keanu, kinda was, in a way. Conceived the night Stryker proposed to me. In Sulani, which is why we chose an Island name for him. Keanu in Sulani means “a cool breeze”. There was a cool breeze over our bodies the night we …
Oh gawd. The memories, the feels. I can’t think of this right now.

Each of the kids has their own personality, their own interests and hobbies and clubs and groups and keeping all that straight is a lot of work for me, especially since I have often been a single parent, with my husband travelling for his music.
I am trying to so hard to make lasting memories for all my babies, give them the best childhood imaginable while I can, you know how life goes, you blink, and they are off to college and all that. They’ve already grown up so much, it feels like only yesterday they were babies.

That’s probably why it all happened the way it did, and why I felt like an outsider looking in on my own life now.

Okay, where to begin?

You all know that Stryker and my relationship has always been rocky, from the earliest beginnings and every step of the way. Sometimes things went better than other times, and sometimes it was downright awful.

Such a time is now.

I think this was how it all started, so this is where I will begin as well.
Let me also say that I am sure I deserve some of the blame for what happened, we all know how sensual – no, how sexual – Stryker is, I mean, sex was one of his many addictions, and I am not sure how to tell it isn’t still, that’s why I am not a therapist and don’t get paid the big bucks. At some point, years ago, his therapist signed documents saying everything was under control, even though I never noticed a change in his drive one way or another.
That being said, I think I neglected the couple part, us being lovers, of the whole marriage thing, thwarting his attempts to be intimate with me too often, just too tired from being a mom.
That was probably why I found out along with the rest of the world that my husband was cheating on me. Yeah, now you are getting the idea where this is heading.

I remember as if it were yesterday, I had just finished up my chores, kids were in school, and I was looking forward to vegging out on the couch watching my favorite soap opera for a couple hours before getting started on lunch, when breaking news interrupted. Yup, I saw it, just like everyone else did, on video, ‘breaking news’ and ‘exclusive footage’ played over and over again, my own husband hardcore making out with some chick in some dark club, strobe lights and neon signs flashing, as they were tearing each other’s clothing off, it was probably a strip club and I just knew kissing wasn’t all they did.

On a hunch I went to the doctor the next day. Well, I am so ashamed to admit that I was diagnosed with an STD. Curable, luckily, but still. Oh my God. Me. The wallflower, whose very first time at the ripe old age of 23 was with Stryker, who was practically a stranger to me then and who had a girlfriend at the time, got me pregnant with my first child, who was now about to be a teen. THAT girl, who had never been with any other man aside from her husband … I was so humiliated when the doctor gave me the results. I felt like the world’s greatest slut, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, only ever slept with my own husband. Thinking back to that moment still makes me wanna sink into the ground for shame.

By the time Stryker got home from the batch of performances he had been booked for, I confronted him, it was a fight, but we ended up making up. And because I am really THAT gullible, we ended up having sex. No, I am not pregnant, thank God.

Stryker kept slipping up. Again and again. One time I came home early from a day out with my mom, because I had forgotten my phone and walked in on Stryker drinking whiskey. Another fight. We made up again. In bed. Nope, no babies. Thank God. Again.

Then one day I was doing laundry and his clothing had glitter all over it, at first I thought he had been doing crafts with our girls, until I realized my daughters’ supplies wouldn’t make their dad’s entire clothing reek like cheap vanilla body spray and our 6-, 9- and 10-year-olds don’t usually wear obscenely bright pink lipstick and leave it inside their father’s shirt collar. Strip club make out sessions. Again.

Another fight, the moment Stryker got back home. More broken trust. Another bruise on my aching heart.

Another time, doing his laundry again, I found white powder in tiny little bags. I am no expert, but it was blatantly obvious this wasn’t confectioner’s sugar.
I had NEVER yelled at him like I had that time, him derailing was something I was kinda used to, but him bringing something so dangerous into a house full of kids was too much. I literally almost lost my voice and was hoarse for hours after this fight from yelling at Stryker so much. What was he thinking? Was he thinking at all? Clearly not about me or our children!
He swore to me it was some band member’s coke, he must have mistaken Stryker’s denim jacket for his own and that he hadn’t touched it. The tiny packages looked unopened, so I believed him. No, wait – I didn’t. I let it go. Yeah, that’s closer to the truth. Reality was, I knew it was his, even then, and I didn’t want to face the truth. Head in the sand method. I employed that way too many times, because I loved him and I didn’t want to lose what we had, the illusion of the happy family I had always wanted.
Reality is, I did everyone a disservice there. I see that now, in retrospect.
You do not need to be the wife of a recovering addict to know that this is the reddest flag imaginable, short of walking in on him shooting up. I did nothing. That was one of my big mistakes. And it didn’t go unpunished for long.

He was touring with 2Dark 2C, he was a feature of their farewell tour, I called him one night and some chick answered his cell phone, drunk. Had this been Hailey or Maddie, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. They often held on to their husbands’ phones backstage when they had to go on stage to perform, and also everyone else’s who might be performing with them, clearly, you can’t have your phone ring on stage. But this chick was trashed and clearly not working backstage. At least not in the vertical.
I mean, even my gullibility has bounds.

That was when I had enough.
I hung up, turned off my phone and I cried so hard, for hours, my eyes were swollen almost shut the entire next day, I had to lie to my children about some mystery allergy.
At that point I knew I couldn’t just go on like before. So, I came up with a plan, looked at my options, then went over to my sister Esmée’s home and borrowed a nice outfit.
In my older sister’s pencil skirt and silk blouse, looking all business now, I went to my cousin Nick’s home the next day, it was Saturday afternoon now.
Nick’s an attorney, who had moved to Newcrest a while back, maybe a year ago, maybe it was two by now, I can’t say for sure, but still had his practice in San Myshuno, about 45 minutes to an hour away.
As he boss, he didn’t have to drive in everyday and definitely not on Saturdays, so he enjoyed the quiet Suburban life away from the city with his son and wife in a very nice, modernized Georgian-style home, when not travelling, which they did a lot.

I hesitated a long time with this, Nick and his family were really nice, but no one in my family had ever really been close with his side of the family, he was Uncle Liam’s son, they lived most of their lives in Del Sol Valley, Nick’s sister was a queen now, his mom, my Aunt Vivien was pop icon ViVa, people like us just don’t hang out on the daily with highfliers like that.
Let me explain a bit. Yes, my husband was a musician too, he even had an album topping the charts some years ago and he had the occasional Top 10 hit, but he was a far cry from the caliber of a ViVa or a Blaine Cameron or even 2Dark 2C. Compared to their success and income and the way they were treated everywhere, like … I don’t know … like royalty somehow; Stryker had only ever been a side act. Yes, he performed on stages, but was treated like everyone else, no different from, say, a stagehand. He was the guy the managers and schedulers of the big stars hired to open for them, to get the audience warmed up, maybe even on occasion to have a duet with one of the real stars.
He had toured as a single act twice, but that was back before we lost the triplets, so over 8 years ago now. Now the only thing he was ever booked for were single performances or as supporting artist. I am not trying to downplay his success, just trying to clarify the reality of where he ranks and our perceived wealth (or lack thereof) and the difference between him and the more famous artists and why we don’t just randomly go over to their house and hang out. Same reason you don’t spend your Sundays chilling with Beyonce and Taylor Swift.
Stryker’s music generated enough income to afford us a large property on the Windenburg Isle and a comfortable, worry-free life financially, even with five kids, but we weren’t rolling around in Ferraris wearing haute couture. I’d say we were upper middle class maybe, kinda like a CEO of a large company type income range. Not to mention our income varied a lot. Some months we lived solely off savings, other months we suddenly had 5, 6 or even, once or twice, a 7-digit figure deposited in our account. And then months of nothing at all, melting the cash in the bank like ice in the sunshine till the next deposit.
So, my entire family, parents, siblings, Stryker and me included, had always led a more low-key life, aside from us owning the big property. But I didn’t know what else to do, I went to his house, by the time his wife answered, I was a sobbing mess, so Adrianna and Nick had to try and calm me down enough to make any sense at all.

When he realized what this was about, Nick listened to my entire story, not interrupting me once, except to silently hand me a box of tissues. When I was done, he loaded me in his car and took me to his law firm in San Myshuno, where we met up with his dad, Uncle Liam, even though it was a Saturday and they were closed. I was in good hands, for the past several decades Uncle Liam had made a living dealing with celebrity court cases, including divorces. They both opened my eyes to the truth. Stryker was toxic for me and my children. Let me also say we are a LOT closer now, they helped me through so much … I couldn’t have done it without them. Auntie Vivien is still a bit too salty for my taste, but as a woman in showbiz at the time she got in, I can totally see why. She’s very generous, too, she’s paying for everything.

I couldn’t raise five children, expecting them to grow up healthy, mentally and physically, when Stryker kept falling off that wagon. And Stryker clearly had quit trying to hold on and not fall off.

He was served the divorce papers the next day. Of course, another fight ensued, in between which he kept begging me to reconsider. I didn’t, but asked him to move out. He did.

He kept calling me, texting me, apologizing, pleading with me, begging, promising, but honestly, I was so sick and tired of the promises. 10 years of marriage and even a couple years before that filled with promises he ended up breaking anyway, every few good months we had were followed by drama, heartbreak and stress. Maybe if we didn’t have kids, I could have attempted to try again with him, FOR him, for US, but I just didn’t have the strength left in me to continue with this another 10 years. Or 20. Or until death.

Being a mother always took precedence for me, I loved being a mom, it’s all I ever wanted, since I was a little girl. A mom, a wife and a chef, those were my dreams, that and maybe owning my own restaurant. Not that we couldn’t afford it, but I knew working at a restaurant was super-stressful, I had done it for years before I married Stryker, owning one would be twice that tough. I just didn’t have the capacity right now, mentally and physically. My kids had to be older for that to be even back on my radar.

And then came the day Stryker and I were supposed to meet with our attorneys to go over the division of assets, discuss my alimony, child support, visitation schedule and all that, but Stryker was a no-show. He was always late, all the time, which drove me insane, but this time, he literally didn’t show up at all. Didn’t answer his phone either, obviously. I was used to him being flaky and unreliable, but this was too much, even for me! He already had driven our marriage into the ditch, now he couldn’t even be there to end it in a civilized manner? Not even THAT he could do for me, after all I had endured over the years for him?! Couldn’t even show up to give me peace?

Fuming, I went to his hotel room, it took him forever to answer the door and when he finally did, he was stark naked, everything hanging out on display, and it was blatantly obvious he was beyond intoxicated.
I was shocked and speechless, he had lost so much weight again, he looked awful and smelled even worse! I know after having dated an addict for 12 years, 10 of those married, I should be able to tell the difference and know whether he was drunk or high, but I honestly couldn’t say, looking at his weight loss, my guess is probably both, either way, he could barely stand without swaying, was barely coherent, his eyes couldn’t focus and looked glassy – and I was upset, but worried at that point, ready to take care of him again like I always had, despite of everything, knowing it was the addiction making him do all of this and he clearly had lost control of his life again, until the bathroom door opened and a naked woman stepped out, in a similar physical condition as him. Super-skinny and high as a kite.

Any woman would have cut like a knife, but this wasn’t just any woman. This was a million times worse! It was Alycia. My arch-nemesis. His ex. The one who roofied and raped him, the one who … well, you remember. The woman I always feared I would lose him to again, she had him first, and she always said she’d get him back. I don’t know how many failed marriages she had under her belt, lost count after three, but clearly, she hadn’t changed. And despite of all, he went back to her.

I lost every last bit of respect for him at that moment. His tattoo of my name above a huge phoenix on his chest stared at me gleefully, while he had made a mockery of everything we ever had.

You see, I love Stryker, still, even right now as I write this, and despite of all, this isn’t about loving him or him loving me. I know he loves me, or at least used to, very much, just as he loves our kids. I have no doubt. And when his mind is not clouded by mind-altering substances, he is a great dad. But his many flaws and lack of real drive to curb them has been so toxic all along, and this was just too much.
I couldn’t take any more of this.
Crying I ran out of the hotel, when I finally calmed my tears, I was so angry. All we had worked so hard for, sacrificed for, getting him straightened out, sober, off the damn drugs, again and again until it finally stuck, at least for a few years, he even started putting on a little too much weight at times, like after holidays, that he had to diet a little. Stryker had NEVER had to diet in his entire life, always too skinny because of his addictions. We fixed that. And just like that, now it was all that down the drain, and for WHAT?! For that skinny bitch Alycia, who has been and will only ever be poison to his soul – and mine? I felt betrayed and lessened by everything.
Please know, I am not a vindictive person normally, but I couldn’t help myself then. I called his parole officer. Stryker was not allowed to use or drink, even one tiny slip-up would immediately revoke his probation and reinstate his deferred sentence for all the things he had done, including having a S.W.A.T team end a suicide attempt a long time ago. Well, actually I did that, but they came in and took all the glory.
Yes, I know, what I did was terrible. Harsh, bad, evil. But I had to. I am telling myself it was to save him from himself, and it’s true, but we all know that was only part of the reason. I was hurt and I wanted to hurt him back.

Stryker went to jail that same afternoon.

The photos and videos all over the news and internet showed him being dragged through the hotel lobby, shoeless, mumbling incoherently, probably too strung out to figure out how to put on his shoes until the cops lost patience and just took him with the moment he was decent enough to go out into public.

A few days later I tried to call him in jail, he wouldn’t take my calls, so I tried to see him and he refused to accept visitors. He also refused to see or talk to his children, which is a whole different kind of heartbreak, for them and for me.

I tried to send in my parents, even Stryker’s mother, and he refused them all. His mom, Teresa, just wouldn’t stop with her ‘I told you so’s. She had always warned me he’d end up like this, hurting me and the babies, told me after child number two to stop having kids with him, it would be too much once he lost control again, and she ended up being right. She does side with me and the kids, but honestly, I almost wished she wouldn’t so Stryker would feel like he had someone in his corner. Then again, he and his mother never got along anyway. I worried about him, just couldn’t stop trying to take care of him like I always had, so I called his best friend Drake, hoping he would go visit him in jail, comfort his friend, only to find out they had a terrible fight over a year ago and not spoken since, Drake wouldn’t tell me the reason, but made clear he wanted no piece of this or of Stryker ever again and said I didn’t even have to try calling his brother Nate, Stryker’s only other friend, both former band members of his. This was the first I heard of them having such a fallout! I was shocked once we hung up, then I realized Stryker had been killing himself slowly for months, without me knowing. How did I miss this kind of steep decline?

Fast forward some months.
Today was the court date.
In a few hours I would walk out of that courthouse a divorced woman.

Stryker had lawyered up too, he was brought in wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and handcuffs. I was shocked when I saw him, hardly recognized him, they had shaved off his hair, he looked like a skeleton, his skin had a gray cast, his eyes were circled dark and his cheeks sunken in, he looked so old. Say what you will, but seeing your husband, the father of your children, like that isn’t easy, even if it’s at your divorce date.

His lawyers were specialized in high profile cases, they fought for him. Hard.
Liam and Nick fought for me too. Just as hard.

I kept the house and the children, Stryker got visitation, but his lawyers managed to get the alimony and child support down to the bare minimum, meaning with what he had to pay me I could barely afford to keep the home and all the taxes and maintenance. Means, wanting to be able to afford anything extra, gifts for my children, new clothing, sending them on class trips, ANYTHING beyond the basics would require me to find a job. After being a wife and mom for 10 years, and having no formal training or degrees as a chef, that would be harsh as I would have to start at the bottom again, making minimum wage. Of course, my parents, my entire family is helping, but this is so traumatic for the kids and for me. Talk about falling from grace. The former wife of a B-Lister celeb was going to scrub scum off commercial kitchens, prep veggies while being a runner for other chefs. IF anyone even hires me at all. Here I am owning one of the largest properties in Windenburg, the sister of the current mayor, who’ll be lucky finding employment scrubbing floors for a few bucks fifty an hour. The irony. It feels like Stryker and Alycia won, somehow. And I lost. Everything I ever wanted, lost. Except my beloved kids. And all I had for them now was love and a very uncertain future. How did we get here?

Stryker is scheduled to get out of jail in just over two months, his lawyers found some legal loophole to end his sentence early.

Still I have the sneaky suspicion that our beautiful big boy Spencer will be celebrating his 13th birthday without his dad, most likely. I doubt Stryker will show up, even though I am praying he does. It will kill Spence-y if he doesn’t.

All my children know what happened and that their dad is in jail and why. I tried to keep it from them, but it is all over the news, highly publicized, they all found out the truth anyway.

Stryker still won’t speak to me, wouldn’t even look at me in court, and if he said anything at all about me, his words were acid. I don’t recognize him. It’s Alycia, and the drugs, and the booze … and his hurt feelings about me, of all people, being the one who sent him to jail.

I know his drug use, whoring around, followed by jailtime also caused a rift between him and Blaine, who had always warned him about that. He made good on his word and dropped him. I know that because he cc’ed me on the following message, which was headlined with “On matters of your contract with me … GO SUCK A DUCK, you asshat!”

I think it’s pretty clear that Stryker had been fired by Blaine in his very Blaine-way. Don’t be misled by how casual Blaine usually acts, he is a big wig, very influential in the music business and if someone of his magnitude drops you like a hot potato, refusing to work with you ever again, it is going to be hard to find takers somewhere else.

This may well be the end of Stryker’s music career.

I didn’t mean for that to happen. Honest.

And truthfully, I don’t know what that means for my children and my future. If Stryker doesn’t have enough money stashed away and cannot pay me what I need to keep the huge house and property, which are super-expensive; it won’t matter what jobs I would pick up and how many, I could never make enough to afford it, so we’d be screwed.

I would lose the home, which I love so very much, that would be devastating to my children and me, not to mention traumatic having to find a new place to live with five children and no real career to fall back on will be very hard. I’m a great chef, I can say that without hesitation, I know my way around the most complicated dishes, but I never went to college, just worked my way up in kitchens, the rest of my cooking is self-taught, not exactly the stuff impressive resumes are made of.
If we land on the street, the only one with a home big enough to take us in would be my twin brother Silas, who as the mayor owns a huge estate and because of his position, he doesn’t pay taxes and has reduced bills for life, his big property is mostly stables and pastures for the horses his wife Olivia breeds, and while I know they would accommodate us in a heartbeat and have the room for us – how shall I put this? I love my brother dearly, but that is seriously the last thing I’d want. And how would that look for his position as mayor?

I love our home, so many memories were made here, especially for each of my kids, you can’t pack those up and move with them.

Yeah, so this is where my life is at the moment. Wish me luck, looks like I’ll need it.

XOXO,
Sophie

AN: To be clear, especially for the casual readers occasionally happening upon my blog, this entire story and all its characters are 100% fiction and based off a computer game.