by Anne Carol
“Let me go freshen my hair and makeup, and I’ll be right there.”
She was the picture of grace. I was proud to show her and our daughter off in these photos. Beth glowed, wearing her long floral print dress, which showed off her curvy figure. She grumbled about her lingering baby weight, but her feminine shape did things to me.
“This is a little different from the photo session last January,” she commented, flinching when she saw my perturbed expression.
“Suffice it say, I prefer this one,” I muttered.
“Oh, David,” she whispered, touching my arm as she situated herself next to me on the sofa.
Beth fluffed out Christine’s dress and adjusted her headband while I watched, smitten. She was taking to motherhood quite well, including the recent weeks of touring the UK. I sometimes wondered what kind of mother she would have been at eighteen, had Michael lived. I still mourned his loss terribly, but I couldn’t deny that becoming parents at twenty-two and twenty-three had given us a few more years of maturity.
After a round of family photos in various poses, Christine began squirming in my lap, so I picked her up, turned her toward me, and stood her on her feet. She loved it when I held her face-to-face, and I cherished her sweet smile. My little angel.
She wobbled a bit and scrunched up her face like she was upset. “Aww…what’s the matter, baby?”
Beth spoke up. “She’s probably about ready for her morning nap.” She reached out to take her. “I’ll go put her down.”
“Don’t go too far, Beth,” Lana said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions as well.”
Beth smiled as she held Christine close. “Sure, I’d be glad to answer them.”
I gawked at her as she walked away, getting another look at her curves.
“David,” Lana chided, laughing. “You adore her, don’t you?”
Heat crawled up the back of my neck at her bold statement. I turned to her. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She beamed. “And you seem to be adjusting well to fatherhood. Are you enjoying it?”
“I love it—everything. Well, maybe not the sleepless nights and dirty nappies, but even those have positive aspects. Being up in the wee hours of the morning usually means cuddling her and rocking her to sleep. And even changing her…I use that time to sing to her. She’s starting to respond to my voice by cooing up at me. Best sound ever. I’d like to record her.”
Lana raised her eyebrows as I continued, “Someday she’ll break our hearts, though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she’ll grow up and leave us.”
Lana sighed. “You are one of a kind, David Somers.”
She continued the interview once Beth returned, asking about our relationship—how we met, what the first few years of marriage were like, and finally the subject I was dreading: my addiction to cocaine. Beth held my hand during the heavier questions, reassuring me. I decided not to mince words because my setback was a part of my life experience; contributing to the stronger man I was today. Allowing my fans to see the real me was important. I also wanted to give hope to anyone who was currently struggling with addiction.
Later that evening, as Beth prepared dinner, I played with Christine in her room. She loved lying on her blanket under her new toy—a Sesame Street activity center—and staring up at the colorful figures. She didn’t have the control yet to reach the objects, but she batted her arms around like she wanted to touch them. Today, I wanted to try something new. After catching Beth dancing with her to disco music, I felt it was my duty as a rocker dad to expose Christine to some real music. I wanted to see her reaction, now that she was starting to show some personality.
“Okay, peanut, what should we play? Sex Pistols? The Jam? Rolling Stones?” I sifted through my cassette tapes until I found Siouxsie and the Banshees. “Oh yeah, perfect.” I fit the cassette into the tape player and pressed play.
The song “Spellbound” came on, and as I played along on my Ibanez electric guitar, I watched Christine’s reaction. At first, she just stared at me, and then as I started strumming during the faster parts, she began kicking her legs and wiggling her arms like she was trying to dance. Spurred on by her excited reaction, I continued playing. “You like this song, baby?”
Christine cooed and gave me a wide toothless grin. Dear me, I wanted to put this guitar down and smother her with kisses. She was such a delight, a true gift from God. And she loved my music. Thank heavens. Maybe she’ll be a guitar player? Hmm…
After “Spellbound,” I put in an older cassette by the same band and fast-forwarded it to the song “Christine.” Pressing play, I sat down with my guitar and started strumming along. A high pitched squeal came from the pink bundle on the floor. I laughed. “I think I have a Siouxsie and the Banshees fan here.”
A gasp across the room caught my attention. “David, look at her kicking her legs! I’ve never seen her that animated,” Beth cried, cupping her hand over her mouth.
“She’s dancing,” I said, smiling wide.
“Yeah, she sure is. What are you playing? Is that Siouxsie and the Banshees?”
I got up and turned down the volume. “Yep.”
Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “Isn’t that kind of a weird song?”
“You say that about all my music, Beth.”
“True. But I can’t deny Christine seems to enjoy it. She doesn’t do this when I play dance music.” She stood, arms akimbo. “Guess this means you win. She is your daughter when it comes to music.”
I smirked. “Say that again?”
She shook her head. “Stop. You know she adores you: always cooing and blowing bubbles at you.”
“You think she’ll be a musician, like her father?”
“I hope so.” Beth took my face in her hands and gave me a knee-buckling kiss. I deepened the kiss—lost in her charm—until she pushed back and patted my chest. “Put down your toys, it’s dinner time.” She patted my cheek and sashayed away.
Could life get any better than this?
COMING OUT OF THE DARKNESS:
How Vinyl Fog guitarist David Somers turned the corner from cocaine addict to family man in less than a year
Arriving at the charming townhome in North London, I was met with a warm greeting, which preceded an engaging conversation with a friendly, soft-spoken David Somers. Nothing like I’d expected. But what can one expect of a famous rock star, one who’s battled substance abuse and whose name has been tossed around the tabloids, claiming unstable and erratic behavior?
The twenty-three-year-old guitarist of Vinyl Fog, a London-based alternative rock band, has been to hell and back over the past year. When the pressures of touring, in addition to a number of personal struggles, launched him into a tailspin of cocaine and alcohol addiction, he abruptly left the band’s North American tour last June to enter a rehabilitation center in California. Spending four weeks undergoing intense detox and therapy was life-changing for Somers.
“They weren’t easy weeks, mind you. I was in agony most of the first two weeks, and my wife was two hours away, which made the experience especially difficult. She’s my rock, and it was the longest we’d been apart since we married. But I needed to learn how to cope in her absence, using my own strength, along with my faith.”
David and his wife, Beth, married at the tender age of eighteen in 1980. They’d met the prior summer when Beth, a native of California, was on holiday in London.
“One look at her and I was smitten,” recounts David. “I fell in love in less than a week. Everybody had thought I’d gone crackers since she was from the States, but we made it work.”
The question of whether they were too young to marry never entered their minds. Their youthful marriage, however, did not come without challenges. Four months after they married, the couple lost their first baby to miscarriage. This fact is not widely known, but when Beth was featured in an article on rock star wives earlier this year, she opened u
p about the loss.
“The pregnancy was a surprise, and yes, the timing wasn’t fantastic, but we were excited. It was devastating when the baby didn’t make it,” states Beth, an all-American beauty who aspires to be a writer.
The tragic loss caused them both to spiral into depression, and with increasing pressures of the band—including extensive touring—each dealt with the fallout in their own way.
“Beth experienced debilitating anxiety and depression, all while we were on the road if you can imagine. I hurt for both of us, and at the same time, I needed to be on my game as far as band obligations. I started drinking more, and then I discovered marijuana at a party.”
Cocaine was first introduced to David on the 1983 North American tour. He and another band member, Pete Fox, started relying on the recreational drug as an energy boost (Pete also went through detox following the tour).
“I hardly remember those dark months. Here I was living my dream, but I was coked out half the time, trying my best to hide the evidence from my wife. I’m so ashamed of myself. It wasn’t until Beth overheard a conversation that she found out I was still using. She’d found me months earlier using, and I’d promised I’d stop. This time, her discovery resulted in one of our biggest rows. It woke me up, and I finally admitted to myself I needed help.”
David entered a facility at an undisclosed location but says it was within driving distance of his wife’s parents in California. The Somers’ returned to London within a week following his release, and he immediately returned to band duties.
“I needed to be busy again. And I missed playing with the band.”
The weeks away served to recharge David, as he and his bandmates went to work straightaway on their fourth studio album, Exodus. Many of the songs on the album were written during Somers’ stint in rehab. Writing has always been a form of therapy for the talented guitar player, who first picked up his instrument at the age of eleven.
Vinyl Fog has been busy this year promoting their new album and will return to North America this month for the second leg of their tour. The five-year-old band also toured Great Britain with the new tracks and is receiving countless positive reviews. Things are looking up for these young musicians.
When the Somers’ go back on tour, they’ll be toting along extra baggage—their new daughter.
“Christine was born in June, and she’s the joy of our lives. After years of mourning our first baby, she’s brought us out the darkness of grief. I want to teach her everything I know about music. She will, whether she likes it or not, learn to appreciate music.”
She’ll also grow accustomed to living in hotels and tour buses, as the band will be on the road until just before Christmas. David says he never intends to travel without his family. The other members of the band also travel with their significant others and children. Bass player Don Morris and his wife, Brooke, now have two children, Emma and Joshua. Keyboardist Martin Bassett travels with his girlfriend and her daughter. And Pete Fox is accompanied by his fiancé, American socialite Daphne Britton.
Yes, girls, Trevor is still flying solo.
The article concluded with information about the upcoming tour and where to buy tickets, as well as a pitch for the new album.
“That’s a great article, isn’t it?” Brooke said from her seat beside me on the tour bus. We were both nursing our babies—Christine nestled tightly against me in her pink footie pajamas while five-month-old Joshua lay across Brooke’s lap wearing his jeans and Vinyl Fog T-shirt. Meanwhile, our husbands were sacked out in the bunks.
“Yeah, it’s honest.” I shoved the magazine in my book bag.
“Glad his story was covered by a legitimate reporter rather than someone from a gossip rag. And that picture of the three of you is gorgeous!” Brooke’s voice startled Josh, and he pulled away to gaze up at her, milk dribbling down his chin. She quickly wiped it clean. “Hi, baby.”
He smiled and went back to his feeding. I chuckled. “Boys and their food, right?”
“Oh, this one loves to eat. I think he’ll be tall like Don. He’s already a big boy.”
“Yes, he is,” I said, staring at the fair-haired, solid baby. Christine was the opposite, dainty and doll-like. Even at two months, her facial features were still delicate as a newborn’s, and her head merely sported a thin layer of dark brown waves. She was David’s little treasure. He loved the fact she looked just like him.
“How is Christine sleeping at night?” Brooke asked.
“She has her bad nights, but mostly she sleeps a solid six hours. What about your two?”
“No problems. Thankfully, mine are good sleepers.”
Peering over at the bunks, I raised my eyebrows. “Our husbands are good sleepers, too.” We both laughed.
“Bless them,” Brooke said, now holding Joshua against her shoulder.
“I know. David insists on being the one to get up with Christine if she cries in the middle of the night. He’s such a devoted father. Sometimes I lay there and just listen to him sing to her.”
“Oh, how precious. How is he getting on with recovery? Is he still struggling, you think?”
“Not really. I mean, we avoid the party scene, which is easy when you have a baby, as you know. What worries me is his smoking.” I sighed. “Thought he would’ve quit by now.”
“Are you afraid he’s replacing one addiction with another?”
I nodded.
“I don’t blame you. Wish I could give you advice. Don was never interested in cigarettes, so I suppose I got lucky there.”
“Yeah, you did. I hate having to worry about my family’s health. The thing is, if he loves Christine so much, why can’t he give that up for her?”
“He doesn’t smoke around her, does he?”
“Oh no, he goes outside. But the smell lingers on his clothes and body.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry, Beth. Maybe just give it more time. Right now it’s enough that he’s staying clean and sober. I bet he’ll come round.”
“I hope so,” I said. Please, God. I sat up and adjusted my now sleeping baby against my shoulder. “Anyway, new subject. How’s the hunt for a nanny?”
“Still looking, but we have a few in mind, so we’re close. What about you?”
“I’ll start looking after Margaret’s visit. She’s coming out next month and staying for a week. First time on American soil, can you believe it? She’s so excited.”
“Oh, that’ll be nice! I sure miss my mother-in-law.”
That makes two of us. Margaret had been a godsend from that first week after my parents flew home. She’d taken care of Christine at least one morning a week so I could run errands and also watched her while David and I had regular date nights.
Her absence was noticeable on tour, as we were on our own. David helped whenever he could, but understandably, his focus had to be on the band and his music. Caring for Christine all day and evening was tiring, and David’s insistence on covering the night shift had him exhausted. Margaret’s week here would give us a much-needed break.
My mother-in-law was a big fan of Westerns—movies and television shows—and she dreamed of visiting Texas. The band was scheduled to be in the Lone Star State for a week, traveling to all the major cities. I couldn’t wait to see this little Scottish woman in cowboy land. We flew her out to Dallas on a sloppy, rainy day in late October and arranged for a driver to bring her to the hotel. When she arrived, looking travel-weary, she grumbled, “I was trying to get away from the damp weather.” Her mood lightened, however, as soon as David put Christine in her arms.
“Oh, my little cherub. I’ve missed you,” she said in a bubbly voice, kissing Christine on the forehead.
Christine reached up and squeezed Margaret’s nose, and then patted her face. She babbled on as if she were having a conversation with her grandmother. “Well, I’m happy to see you, too, precious.” Margaret laughed. “Oh, goodness, it’s going to be near impossible to get on the plane at the end of the week.”
“You can have her as much as you want, Margaret. We need to catch up on sleep.”
She beamed at the offer, which didn’t surprise us. Let’s face it: she was here to see Christine, and David and I were fine with that.
Attending the concert that night with free hands was nice for a change. Even better, I actually fit into one of my old concert outfits: my regular jeans and a shimmery purple top. It felt like the old, pre-child days, but I knew I shouldn’t get used to it. Brooke, of course, still toted along her crew, and I was glad I’d decided against wearing stilettos. Chasing after Emma required my comfortable boots.
“Must be nice to have Grandma in town,” she said, just before yawning. Poor Brooke was in dire need of a childcare break. “Good news, though. We’ve selected a baby nurse. It’s actually Don’s cousin, Esther. If all goes according to plan, she’ll join us next week.”
“Wonderful. Bet you’re relieved,” I said, hoisting Emma into my arms when she tried to run off.
“Yes. Have you given it any more thought?”
“Not much…I’ve been too tired and scatter-brained.”
“Well, hopefully, you get some rest this week.”
Catching up on rest was my number one goal while Margaret was in town, but I also wanted the chance to have alone time with David. I loved our daughter, but we needed time to nurture our relationship and keep the romance alive. There was nothing like spit-up, diaper blowouts, drool, and sleepless nights to kill that spark. I was too wiped out to be a “hot mama,” but Brooke insisted I needed to hold on to that part of myself. I was still a woman, after all.
That night, I finally felt like a woman again. If I didn’t know better, I’d say David enjoyed my extra curves. I loved being in his arms and feeling cherished. It still amazed me how perfectly we fit together, and I knew only God could have orchestrated this union between two people from different continents.