The Backyard

“Without the mask, where will you hide?

Can't find yourself

Lost in your lie

I know the truth now

I know who you are

And I don't love you anymore”

Amy Lee’s haunting voice flooded the small backyard. The lead singer of the band Evanescence, Amy, had written the song to highlight fakeness of celebrities. But Buttercup knew that Jeannie connected with the song on a much deeper and personal level, relating it to her own feelings of being a complete fraud.

In fact, Jeannie had played the song each night for the last three nights. At the present moment she was laying on her back, in the tall grass of her own backyard, staring at the dark sky while the tears rolled down her face. The music was coming from the playlist on Jeannie’s phone and permeating the air from the bluetooth speakers disguised as rocks in the backyard. Jeannie was silently mouthing the words of the song between sobs that came from a very deep place in her body. Buttercup slowly slid her muscular, lean body through the grass closer to Jeannie’s left knee. When she reached her knee, Buttercup slowly slithered a few inches towards Jeannie’s head. As her eyes became level with Jeannie’s torso she saw that the terrible sobs were accompanied by Jeannie’s chest and torso moving up and down. Here we go again, Buttercup thought to herself, next comes the coughing. The thought was barely in Buttercup’s mind when, sure enough, Jeannie started gasping for air between sobs. She quickly sat up in order to better catch her breath, brought her ankles closer to her rear end and her knees up. She sat like this for several moments, catching her breath and slowly became able to breathe more normally. The sobbing had subsided, for the moment. 

“It’s okay Buttercup, I’m okay” Jeannie said as she reached her long fingers in Buttercup’s direction. Her hand came to a rest on Buttercup’s neck and sButtercup felt Jeannie’s fingers begin to slowly and gently massage her neck and head. “Thank you for staying with me, I do not know what I would do without you”.

Buttercup is Jeannie’s four year old chocolate lab and faithful companion. Jeannie is a forty-four year old woman, married to Mark and the mother of two teenagers, who graduated top of her class and works as a marketing executive for a local agency that represents many businesses in the agricultural farming community. Buttercup knows Jeannie believes she is also in the beginning of what society calls a “mid-life crisis”. Buttercup knows this because she had heard Jeannie speaking to her best friend Tamara.

Mark had taken the boys to the new Star Wars movie last weekend and Tamara had accepted Jeannie’s invitation to come over for dinner and wine. Jeannie had prepared a chicken and broccoli dish and paired it with quinoa and a light Pinot Grigio. The women had talked about the kids and work during dinner, catching up on what they had missed in each other’s lives and Jeannie apologizing for being so busy and not in contact. After dinner was over and the kitchen tidied up, the two friends filled up their wine glasses and headed outside to enjoy the yard. Jeannie could never seem to let the dishes just sit in the sink. It was a compulsion for her to clean up as soon as dinner ended. It seemed to Buttercup that she could not actually relax until her sink was empty and the dishwasher full. 

As Jeannie and Tamara settled into the redwood adirondack chairs that helped make the backyard more inviting and comfortable, Buttercup followed close behind and settled herself at Jeannie’s feet which was her favorite place. 

“Tamara, can I get some things off my chest and get your input?” Buttercup heard Jeannie say to her friend.

“Of course you can” Tamara replied, leaning forward toward her friend and balancing her elbows on the arm rests of the chair.

“I really have not been feeling like myself lately and I am really scared. I feel like I have everything I want in life; the marriage, the family, the career, my health, everything I am “supposed” to have. But I can’t shake this feeling of unhappiness. Like, nothing is good enough, nothing makes me happy and when I ask myself what will make me happy, there is no answer. I think this is a mid-life crisis, which feels so cliche. Damn, my whole life is a cliche!”

Tamara slowly put her wineglass down on the table next to her and appeared to be choosing her words carefully before responding. “How long has this been going on?”

“About three months. And it is getting worse. I cry a lot, like sobbing ugly crying. I cry at work in my office, in the car on the way home, sitting in the bathroom on the floor trying to hide from the family, and most nights in the backyard. I feel so lost, and so guilty. Did you ever read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert?”

“Yes, it’s been a long time, but I remember  it was a powerful story” Tamara replied. “I remember the pain she described. Is that the intensity of the feelings you are having Jeannie?”

“Do you remember the part where she talks about being in the bathroom in the middle of the night sobbing on the floor and realizing she didn’t want to be married anymore?” Jeannie replied. “That’s me. But I can’t rationally explain why. It’s just the overwhelming feeling that has taken over my body and mind. Like, I am stuck in the mud, slowly sinking, and I know I want to get out but I can’t. I don’t know how to get out. I try opening my mouth to call for help and nothing comes out. I try to claw at the side of the mud pit but I can’t grasp anything to stop myself from sinking”. By now the tears are rolling slowly down her cheeks and she is reaching with the back of each hand trying to tenderly wipe them away without smearing her eye make-up.

“Oh Jeannie, I don't even know what to say. That sounds so painful. What can I do?” Tamara started to reach for her friend, who tried to gather her composure and waved her hands in the air.

“Nothing, there is nothing anyone can do.” Jeannie replied. Buttercup had heard and felt the depth of the sadness, despair even, in Jeannie’s voice. Buttercup had, of course, been present each time this happened at home. She had witnessed how Jeannie’s whole body trembled as she sobbed, and the fear in her eyes. She heard her pleading into the air, for help, for direction, for understanding, and hearing nothing in response either in her head or in the room. Dogs can feel their person’s feelings and have an innate ability to sense when things are terribly wrong. All Buttercup knew to do at these times was to get closer to Jeannie, lay her head in her lap or lick her gently.  

What just happened in the backyard has been a common occurrence, at least once a week, for the past two months. Buttercup knows that Jeannie goes into the backyard later in the evening because she does not want her family to know what is happening. After dinner, the kids return to their rooms to work on homework or play video games, while Mark heads to his office to do whatever he does in the evenings to escape. The only place Jeannie can be alone is the yard. Once the weather changes, she will need a new private place to allow herself to feel and experience her emotions. 

Buttercup knows that this is the third night in a row that Jeannie has been outside, first so overcome with emotion and then drinking two or three more glasses of wine before stumbling into the house, locking the door and making her way to bed in the downstairs master bedroom. Last night she did not make it to bed, rather she made it only as far as the dark forest green couch in the sitting room. What Jeannie did not know, but Buttercup did, was that Mark had been out and away from the house. When he returned about thirty minutes later, he gently placed a blanket over Jeannie’s snoring body before heading up the stairs to the guest room and making sure the kids were in bed. Mark had been sleeping in the guestroom for six weeks. And he was often out when Jeannie went to bed downstairs. Buttercup did not think that Jeannie knew about Mark’s absences as she had never said anything to either Mark or Buttercup about it. It was as if Mark needed to get away from the pain and despair and loneliness that was so present in the family home.

“Alright Buttercup, let’s call it a night” Jeannie was saying and starting to make movements to get up from the grass. Jeannie often talked to Buttercup and it made Buttercup feel terribly loved. They had a routine each morning whereby Jeannie fed Buttercup and let her out to do her business. Without fail, Jeannie predicted when Buttercup would be ready to come back in from the yard and appeared at the french doors to let her in. Buttercup would then stay right by Jeannie’s side while she prepared her regular breakfast; black coffee, two cups of sauteed Spinach and two slices of bacon. Jeannie was a very healthy eater and a creature of habit. She often told Buttercup that routine made her feel safe. Buttercup was not really sure what that meant because it was her job to make Jeannie, and the family, feel safe. Once Jeannie was done with breakfast, she packed her lunch and snacks for the day before heading upstairs to shower and get ready for work. Buttercup would keep her company until Jeannie and the kids left for work and school, leaving Buttercup to spend the day worrying about the safety of her people.

Jeannie stood up and gently dusted the stray blades of grass off the back of her legs. Her tears had dried on her face and her wine glass was empty. Buttercup wondered if she would be pouring another glass from the bottle before the night ended. Jeannie’s wineglass had only been filled twice tonight and she was walking, not stumbling, toward the house which Buttercup interpreted as a positive sign. When they reached the glass paned french door to the house, Jeannie slowly turned the knob and stepped up into the dining room. 

“Oh, hi, what are you doing down here?” Jeannie’s voice told Buttercup what she already knew, that Mark was sitting at the table waiting for her to return. 

“We haven’t talked about what is going on in awhile and Jeannie, I can’t live like this anymore. You are clearly unhappy and going through something and it’s killing me to watch my strong, courageous wife basically self-destruct. Something needs to change, I don’t know what the next step is. Please, talk to me, let me in. Or else I have to leave.” Mark’s statement was accompanied by three tears slowly running down his left cheek. Buttercup had never seen Mark cry before, he was a classic “tough guy” who worked very hard to always control his emotions. Over the four years Buttercup had been part of the family she was only aware of one actual verbal fight Mark and Jeannie had been in and it was resolved in a matter of minutes and Mark certainly was not crying. 

Jeannie took this in as she slowly lowered herself into the seat to Mark’s right, adjusting her long legs under the table and placing her hands on the table with her palms down. Buttercup saw that she was moving her fingers in and out on the table, which left condensation marks on the dark wood indicating her palms were sweaty and she was nervous about where the conversation was heading. She could smell the fear coming from Jeannie’s skin and she processed Mark’s words and struggled to put together a response. 

“Mark, I am sorry. I know I owe you an explanation but I don’t have one. All I know is that I have never felt like this before and I don’t understand it myself. Nothing is clear, I don’t know what to do next.” Jeannie finally replied after several minutes of silence. 

“You’ve said that before but it’s been months Jeannie. That’s not going to do it anymore. I love you but  I need answers. I have been living in what feels like a no-man’s land for months and it’s not just me, the kids see it too. We are all scared and sad and unsettled. It’s not fair, it’s selfish of you to do this to us”. Mark replied restraining himself from becoming angry and worked-up.

“Selfish? Am I being selfish? For the first time in my life I am listening to my inner voice and the feelings accompanying it. For fifteen years, hell for my whole life, I have been pushing those feelings down each time they come up. Ignoring them, putting everyone and everything first. So guess what, now they won’t be pushed back into the bottle this time. I need to deal with them and if you can’t wait while I do that, then I guess you do need to leave and that’s your choice”. As she was speaking Jeannie was expressively waving her hands in the air in congruence with the intonations of her voice. When she finished, she loudly slammed her hands down on the table and used the force to raise herself from the chair. When she was standing up completely, her feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor, she spun her body around and reached for her wineglass which had been placed on the table When her fingers connected with the stem, she picked it up and walked into the kitchen.

“Jeannie, wait, that’s not what I meant. Please, come back”. Mark’s voice started to crack as he spoke. 

“It’s exactly what you meant Mark. Message received, loud and clear. Do what you need to do”. Buttercup rose from her place on the cool hardwood and watched as Jeannie picked up the half-empty bottle of wine from the kitchen counter and started towards the french door. When they reached the door, Buttercup at Jeannie’s right foot, Jeannie swung the door open and slammed it shut after moving through it to the backyard. Buttercup followed her over to grass, to the same spot they had left not ten minutes earlier. After placing the wine bottle and glass on the grass, Jeannie returned her body to the now familiar spot as Buttercup moved closer to snuggle against her. Within a few moments, Amy Lee’s smooth voice once again began to emerge from the speakers and Jeannie’s eyes returned to the sky.