Meditation.
Isolated in the woods, the Sacks mansion could give you a sense of loneliness. Especially on cold or rainy nights, when the surrounding lands looked dreary and deserted, and all you could do was wrap your hands around a cup filled with a hot drink, and gaze out of the old, foggy, panelled windows. This building was old. Build around the 1880's by a wealthy railroad tycoon, the mansion could use renovation. The exact details remained lost to her, but the parts that were occupied, had been modernized. Yet still, this semi castle moaned and groaned with its history on its shoulders. At night, it sighed its stories through its dark, abandoned corridors.
When she got the job as housemaid, three years ago, she had never expected to be at it alone. Like other manors of the same size, she expected the Sacks estate to have a team of servants, cooks and cleaners. But it was just her. There were others in Mr. Sacks' service, but none of them lived on the premises itself. There was a driver named John, and a helicopter pilot named Kevin. In the spring time, some people came around to take care of the surrounding grounds. They trimmed the bushes, and cleared the stone pathways of leaves and sand. And once a week, three women came to clean the mansion's main entrance, hallway and official dining room. They never failed to shoot her dirty looks, whispering about her in the corridors, like they expected her to know more about the rich businessman she worked for than they did.
The biggest part of the mansion went unused. Some rooms were locked, others clobbered with old furniture hidden under white sheets, covered in dust. The estate owned beautiful stables, and large, well maintained meadows. But sadly, there were no animals to occupy them. Adding to the loneliness of the place. She was sure this mansion had once been a bustling luxurious chaos of servants, masters and horses. Elegant carriages in the coach house, instead of the collection of dust covered portraits of several previous occupants.
Her mother, living in New York, had disapproved of her position at the Sacks estate. It was too far out of the city, and her daughter was only granted one free afternoon per week. Friday afternoon was hers to spend as she pleased, and she was allowed to use Mr. Sacks' car and driver to make her way back to the city, to visit her family. But even that didn't seem to appease her mother, who unkindly referred to Mr. Sacks as "count Dracula". It was the castle and the way he combed back his greying hair that probably caused the association with the mythical count. But despite all of his odd quirks and habits, she was sure she would have noticed by now if he had been a vampire.
There were many things she didn't like about the dreary old castle that made the Sacks estate. But the thing she absolutely hated the most were the power outings. The cables, dating back to the early 30s when the first lines of electricity were put in, were above ground and caused the large manor to go pitch black during storms of a relatively violent nature. This house was scary enough when all the lights were working, and she could listen to her radio or television, but when the power was out, and she had to navigate her way through the empty corridors with a flashlight, she quietly asked herself why she hadn't quit her job yet. Mr. Sack's laboratory in the basement, off limits to her or anyone else, had its own much more modern emergency power unit. And so, he hardly ever noticed when the rest of the house went dark all of a sudden. When he was present in his private quarters during such a moment, he simply turned in early, and read quietly by the light of his fireplace.
Mr. Sacks had sleeping problems. He took medication for it, she had seen the small red vials of pills in his bathroom cabinet, but they hardly seemed to work. He was as restless around three in the morning, as he was at three in the afternoon. If he did sleep, he tossed and turned, struggling with nightmares that rendered him slightly out of breath during his morning coffee. All that seemed to give him the slightest ounce of peace, was the expensive Japanese imported tea that he enjoyed drinking in the evening, right before going to bed.
His rooms were on the third floor of the mansion. His bedroom on suite, office and library all connected through one long, dark corridor with a polished wooden floor you could slide across on your socks. She did it whenever she could, whenever Mr. Sacks was downstairs in his laboratory, and she had the whole storey to herself, which was mostly the case during the daytime. Shoes were forbidden on that level of the house, as was Japanese custom. Her life played itself out between those few rooms, tending to his private quarters, and catering to his personal needs during his presence. She cooked his meals, and served them in his office. She ran him a hot bath every evening, where he would soak for an hour. She cleaned his clothes, ironed his shirts, and folded the laundry so that it would neatly fit in his wardrobe again.
Her only company was Yiro, a Jack Russel terrier that, before she got the job, lived mostly downstairs on the ground floor, presumably to keep away the rats that nestled in the old walls. When the vermin was taken care of by an exterminator a year ago, Yiro's usefulness became unsure. Thankfully, she was able to persuade Mr. Sacks to keep the little dog, saying rats tended to return to places that smelled like their species. In truth she enjoyed the animal's company, and she was pretty sure Mr. Sacks was smart enough to see through her. He had allowed her to keep Yiro, not for the animal's hunting qualities, which it hardly possessed, but because he knew the dog was his young housemaid's only source of company. And allowing her to keep the dog was a lot easier than hiring another maid. And so, Yiro became her shadow, following her around the place wherever she went. She took him outside, went for long walks to breathe in the fresh air, and watched him chase squirrels till his tongue reached his knees.
Mr. Sacks was a quiet man. If he didn't work, he was reading, he owned an impressive collection of old Japanese story books, with pictures in faded water colours. She was allowed to make use of his extensive library whenever she wanted, his only term of condition was that the books remained on his property, and were not taken to some place else. If he didn't read, he was meditating to clear his mind. Seated on the rich Persian carpet in his office, in a crossed legged position, he could sit there for hours with his eyes closed. Unresponsive to his surroundings, even when the power went out. Only Yiro seemed to be able to shake him out of such a trance. If she wasn't quick enough to pick up the little dog, he would happily jump into Mr. Sacks' lap and try to lick his face. Thankfully, Mr. Sacks never got angry when that happened. He would briefly lock eyes with his young housemaid, and give her one of those mysterious, soft smiles he always seemed to save for her alone, all while scratching the little dog behind his ears. After a few minutes, Yiro would have his fill of attention, and returned to her faithfully. This hadn't happened that often. But it was awkward every time it did. Mr. Sacks was a difficult man to understand. He seemed easy to like when he wanted to. When he met his business partners in his official dining room. He laughed this hard, arrogant, barking laugh. But in private, he always seemed distracted from the real world. Sometimes, when he had a bad day, he wandered his enormous mansion like a lost child, unable to find rest, as if it was never taught to him to relax, to be at peace.
Sometimes it seemed like she and Mr. Sacks weren't the only people living in the mansion. During the daytime, she had noticed doors unclosed, or stuff used in the kitchen, where Mr. Sacks never ventured. Then there were the strange noises down in Mr. Sacks' gym. Occupied by various people that came through the backdoor and went unseen. They were aggressive in their entering and departing. She had seen their cars. Big vans with blinded windows, like they were a line of military she knew nothing about. It had scared her, and she had asked Mr. Sacks about all of this unregistered activity. And he had told her not to worry about it. These strange individuals weren't there for her, and she had nothing to fear. After that day, they came and went more calmly, like they had been instructed to avoid startling her again.
Then there were the days Mr. Sacks would be down in his gym, and came out limping or holding his shoulder, his face contorted in pain. He always wore one of those martial art robes, a black one, during those moments. Whatever he did down there, whoever trained him, it seemed to cost him the greatest amount of energy, and reawaken a jumpiness around her that she thought had been resolved years ago. When she first started working for him, he tried to be as invisible as possible, and withdrew almost shyly when they did run into eachother. After a while, he became more comfortable with her presence. Her soft smile, and gentle way of moving through his house paid off eventually. She didn't want him to treat her like she was a total stranger. Whether he was her employer and she his housemaid or not, they lived in the same building, there was no need to be afraid of eachother.
When the days turned short, and the air turned crisp, the heaviness of the person that was Mr. Sacks seemed to infect the whole premises with a depressive darkness. In the summertime, the mansion could be wonderful to be around. There was a swimming pool on the roof of the right wing. Mr. Sacks hardly ever used it, and had never explicitly told her not to. So when the weather was warm, she took a jump with Yiro, and played in the water for hours. Dripping wet, she'd skip through the long corridor to her own little room, and dried the floor before giving Mr. Sacks a chance to break his neck. But when winter arrived, there was no more talk of such fun past times.
She remembered winter as a time of light, love and companionship. People decorating their houses, making the whole city look bright and festive. Her family was one of traditions. Christmas trees were purchased with everyone present. That included her parents, her two brothers, and her one sister in law. Ever since she worked at the Sacks estate, Christmas tree buying had to be scheduled on Friday for obvious reasons. But that was something she could live with, the harder part was that Mr. Sacks didn't care one bit about festivities, and kept his enormous mansion undecorated. He never threw a party, he never received guests, apart from his business associates and the occasional shady looking Asian girl with the red highlights in her dark hair. Her name was Karai. Mr. Sacks had instructed her to introduce herself to his housemaid, to avoid future awkward run ins. But those visits were strictly business, and Karai never stayed for very long. He spend his Christmases alone, locked in his private quarters or laboratory, working, reading, or watching television and falling asleep in front of it.
She was allowed to go home of course, for three days to be exact. Taking Yiro with her too. Those were the happiest days of the year. Surrounded by family and friends, laughing, talking and living, she always dreaded the day she had to return to her employer. Although she had to give it to him, there was always a little present waiting for her on the little table in the big entrance hall. With a little card that read; "Merry Christmas, ES." It was usually a book. Although the first time it had been a bicycle, to make her way across the grounds that surrounded the house. He wasn't unkind, atleast he had never been so to her, it was just that he gave her the idea he didn't really know how to behave around people that had nothing to do with the hard business world he came from. But he was rich, so he showed her he appreciated her help with little gifts. In the first year she worked for him, her mother took sick. Her treatment too expensive for her father to pay for. And so, she had asked Mr. Sacks if she could get a year's salary right now. As usual, he hardly replied, and just listened, and nodded. He had paid for her mother's treatment completely. And continued paying his housemaid all throughout the year. Sadly, even that gesture didn't change her mother's mind about Mr. Sacks. She didn't think he was suitable to be around her young, warm-hearted daughter. And perhaps he shared that opinion with her. Maybe that was the reason he tried to avoid running into his housemaid as much as possible. As if he felt like a burden in his own house.
The moments Emily felt like she was the silent witness to a world she was to be kept away from, were brief, but present nonetheless. After a night of training in his gym, Mr. Sacks would be injured. The white shirt he wore underneath his black robe would bear the marks of heavy blows. She had no idea who was under the impression they could treat Mr. Sacks like a ragdoll, but she already decided not to like this person, even though she never met them. It was this violent visitor that made her wonder if it was really just her and Mr. Sacks living in this house.
To relieve the pain in his aching body, Mr. Sacks would treat himself with a special cream that made him smell like mint and spices. He would limp for a few days, but never called for a doctor. His only request were for her to get him a few extra pillows, to support his bruised body through the night. She wasn't sure he realized, but she always made sure his enormous bed was as comfortable and snug as she could make it. When the nights turned cold, he never had to ask for extra blankets. She knew exactly when the time arrived he'd want his comforter. And it was one of those evenings again. The beginning of winter, when she had just finished preparing his bedroom for him. He had been called into his gym earlier today, and responded to those calls like an obedient dog. She had seen him come out not even an hour ago, his movements strenuous, and retreat to his bathroom to take a long, hot shower. He was never hungry when he had trained all day, the very thought of food seemed to make him nauseous. So she never even bothered to inquire what he would enjoy for dinner, his answer would always be a cup of tea, and a good night's sleep. But this night was different.
"Emily.." His voice startled her as she was busy rearranging his wardrobe. She had taken his winter attire from the storage room, washing what needed to be washed, and taking his summer clothes up again. She spun around, holding three expensive shirts on their individual hangers to her chest. "I'm sorry." He apologized, realizing he had startled her. "I should have let myself be heard. I didn't mean to frighten you." He was already dressed for bed. Sporting his favourite pair of pyjama pants, and a simple shirt. Perhaps he just wanted her to get out.
"I'm almost done, sir." She informed him, holding up the three remaining shirts that still needed their designated place in his extensive wardrobe. "Just these three left."
He looked at the shirts for a moment, but gave no reaction. "Could you do something for me?"
She blinked, and nodded. Whenever he had a request, he never put it quite like that. "What can I do for you, sir?" A little hesitant, he came up to her and held out the jar of cream he used to put on his bruises. The strong minty flavour slowly filled the room as he had left the jar open.
"I cannot reach my back." His voice sounded small, almost ashamed. "Could you be so kind? I wouldn't know who else to ask."
She took the jar from him slowly, a little surprised at his odd request. He wouldn't normally allow her to come this close to him, nor would he inform her about his injuries. Whenever he felt indisposed, he would withdraw and reappear when he felt better. But now he asked for her help, and she felt an odd sense of pride and accomplishment at gaining his trust. "Of course, sir." She told him with a warm smile. "Where would you like me to put it?"
"You'll see." His answer worried her a little, and she watched how he gingerly took off his shirt, and turned to show his back. Angry bruises, fresh and violently put there, covered his pale skin. Some weren't even formed yet. But the red rash announced the coming of more. She inhaled sharply at the sight, and covered her mouth in shock. It was as if someone had lifted Mr. Sacks from the ground, and had thrown him into a pile of hard surfaced objects. These weren't bruises you inflicted upon yourself with a little workout, these were signs of a violent treatment. "Just a little bit on the most serious ones, if you will." His calm voice brought her back to the dim lit bedroom of her employer.
She scooped up a bit of the pale green cream, and ever so gently applied it to his back. She could see his breathing increase in speed at the very fact of being physically touched by someone else but the person who had caused Mr. Sacks these injuries. He didn't like people touching him. He was fine with a hand shake, but nothing beyond that. She had never once seen a woman stay the night. Mr. Sacks preferred his solitude, and apparently only trusted his housemaid to touch him. Taking out some more of the cream, she moved to other parts of his back, leaving no bruise untreated. The longer she took, the more her employer seemed to relax under her careful ministrations. But then she hit a particular sensitive spot in the lower part of his back, and he let out a sharp hiss.
"I'm sorry, sir. That one has every colour of the rainbow." She apologized. "I'll try to be more careful."
He shook his head to console her. It wasn't her fault. "You're doing fine. It cannot be avoided that some of them are sensitive. Just make sure they're all covered with the cream, it's all we can do for now." He explained. With his permission, she continued treating the tender flesh of his back. The cream started glowing pleasantly on her fingers. This was probably the reason why Mr. Sacks always seemed a little drowsy whenever he had administered the medicine. When she was sure she had covered every bruise, she tenderly touched his arm. "All done." She announced. "Would you like some tea, sir?"
He waited until he had put his shirt back on before answering. He turned to her, smiling gratefully. "I would like that very much." He sighed softly, the cream already sending her relieving strength. "Thank you, Emily."
She returned his smile, happy he allowed her to help him in his time of need. It was such a small request, but she realized what trouble it had caused for him to ask her. "Anytime, sir. I'll go and fix your tea." She didn't need to wait for him to dismiss her formally. He wasn't like that at all. As she left his bedroom, she felt him follow her with his eyes, his piercing gaze burned into the back of her neck.
Yiro was waiting for her outside the master bedroom. If she was to allow him entrance, he would make himself right at home underneath ' covers, and she wasn't sure he'd fancy sleeping in dog hair. The little dog followed her downstairs to the kitchen to assist her in preparing the tea Mr. Sacks had requested. She turned on the small television to draw out the sound of the old manor creaking under the wind outside. The weather channel announced a storm would pass over during the night. She had never been very brave when it came to storms. Wind and rain was one thing, but if it involved lightning and thunder she was to be up all night, holding Yiro close to her. Already dreading the moment she would have to return to her lonely little bedroom on a completely different storey than Mr. Sacks' quarters, she returned to his bedroom with the cup of tea.
Very unlike him, he was already in bed, nestled beneath his comforters and various other blankets she had prepared for him. The many pillows supported every limb of his body, and she recognized the slow, heavy breathing he did when he was in a world of pain. He had his eyes closed when she entered, but turned his head slowly to look at her when she placed the cup on his nightstand. He smiled at her tiredly. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, sir." She knew she sounded worried, and her expression must have been like an open book. "Anything else I can do for you?" At that moment, Yiro jumped onto the bed and made himself comfortable against Mr. Sacks' leg. She realized she had forgotten to close the door, the storm already on her mind and distracting her from her tasks. When she apologized and reached for the dog, he stopped her.
"Leave him." Her employer said. "He doesn't bother me. I enjoy his company."
She bit her lip in uneasiness. She also enjoyed Yiro's company, and she wasn't sure she dared to sleep by herself tonight, with a thunderstorm knocking on the door. "He always sleeps on my bed." She explained. "Makes it a little less lonely on the second floor. All by myself." Still standing next to his bed, he gingerly motioned toward a chair next to his nightstand, the very movement causing him pain.
"You may stay awhile." He offered kindly. "I'm aware the weather is about to turn ugly. If it helps you to sit with me for a little bit, you may."
She hesitated. "I don't want to rob you off your rest, sir. You need it." He shook his head to stop her.
"Stay awhile, Emily." He told her. "Please." A short silence followed, and he realized she needed more persuasion to remain inside a bedroom that was usually off limits except for matters that involved the household. "I enjoy your company too." He decided on saying. It wasn't that far from the truth either. She was a calm and gentle presence that didn't bother him. A little hesitant, she sat down in her appointed chair, rubbing her knees nervously. "Have some of that tea." He offered, giving a nod toward the steaming cup. "It will soothe your nerves. That's what it does."
So that's what that tea was for. Thanking him, she reached for the cup and took a careful sip. The taste was foreign to her. A very herbal flavour, that left a bitter film on her tongue. She placed the cup back on his nightstand and made a face. He chuckled softly at her reaction.
"Not exactly something you drink for your own pleasure, isn't it?" He asked, greatly amused at her obvious distaste. "It will help though. You'll see. It's very effective." At that moment, thunder made its entrance, and rolled through the sky. The sound caused her to jump, and made Yiro look up from his rolled up position on the bed. She wasn't sure if Mr. Sacks was aware of her fear of thunderstorms, but his kindness right now would say he did. Outside in the hallway, the floorboards creaked under the air's changing pressure, making it sound like footsteps. Her employer followed her every skittish movement.
"You can take the dog with you when you leave." He told her. "His company may benefit you more than me tonight."
She nodded, although distracted by the sounds she heard. The mansion talked during weather like this. She hated it when it did that. "All these noises." She chuckled uneasily, ashamed of her childish fears. "They make me nervous."
He didn't know how to comfort her. Nobody had ever comforted him. Atleast not as far as he could remember. All he was taught to do was rationalize his fears, and replace them with something else, like curiosity, anger or simply insignificance. But something as simple as a comforting gesture, had never been demonstrated to him.
"Old buildings tend to do this." He explained. "It is nothing to be afraid of. Everything that makes it scary, is all that is inside your own mind of what it could be. But it is nothing but a house with a wooden structure swaying in the wind."
She nodded. She knew this. She knew it was all between her ears. She should have never watched all these horror movies. They all seemed to take place in houses like this. "I know, sir. I'm sorry. I must look so foolish to you."
"No, no." he shook his head gently. "Nothing of the sort." He watched the girl jump at another clap of thunder, growing more frightened by the minute. "Concentrate on your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth." He watched her follow his instructions, her eyes closed in concentration. He may not know how to offer comfort, but he was taught very well how to level the mind to a calm and calculated state. Pain and emotion could be eliminated. He sat up a little, despite his aching body, and pressed his back against the grand headboard of his bed. "Come here, Emily. Sit on the bed. Cross your legs, like you've seen me do in my office."
She didn't hesitate this time, and seemed happy to get closer to him. As he had instructed, she climbed upon his big bed and sat down in a cross legged position. "Close your eyes." He told her. Unafraid, trusting her employer to treat her justly, she closed her eyes. "Think of a colour and concentrate on nothing but that colour. Just pick one. Your favourite one, and concentrate on it."
She thought of green. The kind of green the surrounding lands of the manor would get during the summer time. This colour gave her a warm feeling. Somehow the mansion felt more like home when the days were long and hot. He watched her form a smile on her face.
"What colour did you pick?" He asked.
"Green. Like in summer."
"Why green?" He asked, scooting closer to her gently, and bending his stiff legs into the same position as hers.
"I like the summer. I like it here much better when it's warm. When all the windows are open and the garden is so pretty."
He nodded to her story, even though she had her eyes closed. "Place the back of your hands on your knees, palms open." He instructed, and waited till she had done what he had said. "I'm going to take your fear away from you, and replace it with something else. For that I will need to touch you. Don't be scared. I won't hurt you." She frowned at his explanation, but didn't move away when he placed his thumbs into her palms. He applied a gentle pressure, looking for nerve points to redirect her thoughts. "Tell me more about your green summer garden." He smiled when she chuckled.
"I like the roses." She told him.
Another clap of thunder made the windows shake, but this time, she only flinched a little. "Are the roses green too?" He asked.
"No, they're red. And white. And I've seen yellow ones too."
"Which ones are your favourite?" He asked her questions, but didn't care about her answers. All he was trying to do was redirect her mind, and removing the high levels of stress it was going through right now. He applied more pressure on her palms with his strong fingers, and followed her every expression.
"I think the red ones." She decided after a moment. "I put them in a vase in your office, so you can see them too. They're yours after all."
"Yes you do. Thank you." He answered. "And yes they are. I don't get to see much of them, do I?"
"We should start bringing flowers down to the basement. Though I doubt roses would enjoy being in a laboratory."
He chuckled at her senseless rambling, but it was nothing he hadn't anticipated. He was steering her mind away from rationality, to where it could find and heal itself again.
The more she concentrated on the dent his thumbs seemed to make in the palm of her hands, the more she felt her fear of the restless weather fade away. His silly questions, along with her evenly silly answers, seemed to work miracles, and she let out a quiet sigh at the peaceful feeling that seemed to settle in her deepest core. The thunder nearly forgotten. She opened her eyes to meet his, and smiled at him gratefully.
"Are you feeling better?" He asked, removing his hands from her own.
She nodded in slight awe of what her employer had just done for her. Another clap of thunder lit up the sky, but she hardly even noticed its noise. She was able to convince herself this was something taking place outside these walls, and within this mansion, she was as safe as she could be. She had always felt vulnerable no matter where she was, but she was now rationalizing her fears. "Thank you, sir." She spoke softly, still baffled at the result.
"You're very welcome." He smiled at her tiredly. "I do feel I need to rest now, Emily. If you could be so kind.." He gestured toward the door awkwardly, giving her an almost pleading look. She didn't know how fast she had to jump off his bed, pick up Yiro, and bid him goodnight before returning to her own quarters.
R&R