Backyard Blues

The ground was cold beneath me. I could feel the morning dew beginning to arrive as it tickled my skin. The gray of dawn set upon me and all I could think about was the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be here. I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be anywhere anymore.

Jean left me two weeks ago and I haven’t been the same. I didn’t see it coming. I still have the ring I was going to give her in the top drawer of my nightstand hidden in my pair of lucky socks. I wonder if the jewelers will even let me return it. I’d call it a waste, but my only hope is that she comes back to me one day and I’ll be able to give it to her.

Last night I fell asleep in the backyard. I didn’t care that the summer is turning to autumn and the air is getting brisk. I couldn’t stand one more night in our bed. I haven’t changed the sheets because she was the one who dressed the mattress. Now I can hardly dress myself.

In fact, I’ve been wearing the same shirt for three days straight. Just waiting for someone to do the laundry. I’ve only ever been in charge of the dishes.

Outside I don’t have to be in charge of anything. I lay waste to the elements as they batter my body any way they see fit. It seems like a good punishment for my suffering. Though maybe being dramatic about a mere fifty degrees is the reason she left me in the first place. Do I complain too much? Did I do enough? Am I nothing but a black hole of despair bringing everybody down in my path?

Who’s to say? She didn’t tell me why she was leaving. So, I’m left here to wonder and ruminate on every interaction we’ve ever had. Six years of kisses, fights, and movie nights. Now I might as well be six years old discovering earthworms for the first time. I imagine how they’d look crawling on my rotten flesh if I just left myself to die here. With the extra fat I’ve been carrying on my hips I wonder realistically how many days I could go without food before the suffering ends.

Maybe I could just eat the ground beneath me as I dig my own grave. Swallow stray rocks and dirt. Munch on the grass and dead leaves to get them out of my way. Dehydrate my body like the monks and immortalize my pain. May my mummy serve as a reminder that love is the deadliest form of addiction.

I don’t even remember who I was without her. What do I enjoy besides being by her side? What am I good at besides being a horrible partner? What makes me smile other than her face when she walks through the door at 5:23 PM sharp every day?

Well, that time was getting later and later in the passing months. Of course, I believed her when she told me her promotion caused an extra workload. I even looked the other way when she came home at one am drunk that one Friday night. Why wouldn’t she celebrate her achievements?

How dumb was I to believe her white lies? Even when the truth came out, I wanted to work on things. Which may make me even dumber. Because Jean left two weeks ago and I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who she ran off with either. If my legs could move then I’d run in one direction and never look back. But I’m paralyzed and I’m lying in the grass of my backyard waiting for the sun to finally rise.

The silhouettes of the trees are becoming more distinct. There are branches instead of blobs and I wonder if I count every leaf if she’d be impressed enough to call me. I could tell her there are exactly one million, three hundred fifty-two thousand, six hundred sixty three leaves on our property and give her that many reasons to make this work. Maybe then she’d see that I’m better than them. I’d prove my patience and resilience and she’d come running into my familiar embrace.

But maybe the familiarity got boring. Taco Tuesdays and Spaghetti Thursdays every week until the world freezes over. Paying for the car insurance and the mortgage every second of the month and the phone and electricity on the seventeenth. Lying down in bed at ten o’clock only to read by the side table lamp until ten-thirty. Then, once it’s lights out, lie with our eyes wide shut while we think about what we’d like to dream. Where to escape to each night. My dreams were always more vivid with her by my side. Maybe the monotony got old.

Now that I think about it, was I even happy? Or did I just like the security. Cause I know now that my walls are made of glass and with the cool touch of the grass on my skin, I’m uncomfortable. In fact, it’s the worst I’ve ever felt. Which feels wrong to say since I’ve lost loved ones forever. But it hurts more knowing that she's still alive and choosing not to be near me.

So, I’ll just lie in the grass and hope that the sun brings me clarity. Supplies my body with vitamin D and replenishes my energy. Maybe if I lay here long enough everything will just become false memories and when I walk back inside she’ll be waiting to greet me.