Mindfulness

“Mindfulness! Mindfulness!”

“It’s Mindefulgen, ma’am,” the disgruntled butler politely corrected the old woman. He held his hands behind his back and stood near her, awaiting her next request.

“Oh, quit your yapping, Mindevulven, you still know I am calling for you!” Mrs. Vizof waved her bony fingers in his face. “It’s almost six, come.”

The butler let out a sigh. He wanted to roll his eyes at his employer but refrained from it. Instead, he cleared his throat and settled with a mere nod at the mention of the time. In a habitual motion, he took the handles of the wheelchair she sat in and slowly pushed her towards the door that would lead to the house’s back garden.

“Ma’am, why don’t you call me Austin instead?” He made a fleeting suggestion despite being fully aware of the answer.

The cool evening breeze carried the wafting scent of the many blooming roses. The early spring had brought some rain with it. The soil was moist, a few butterflies flew around while some bees buzzed between the petals. Austin felt proud. He’d been taking care of the garden to make it bloom for the last month. His work was paying off, but it was still not enough for the old Vizof to notice, not when the woman ended up scolding him as they neared the large oak tree in the middle of the garden where a few bushes of dark red roses were in full bloom.

“What kind of nonsense is this? It’s utterly impolite to call someone by their first name! What’s gotten into you today, boy!”

“Tea, madam, and a jerky sandwich.”

The snarky reply earned him a warning finger. Yet, he simply positioned the chair near the roses and brought a blanket that he draped around her shoulders. He picked one of the roses and slipped it in her hair before she asked it of him. It stirred a giggle of Mrs. Vizof who seemed to forget her initial scorn.

“He’ll come home on time today, I am sure of it, Vulvenfugen!”

Old madam Vizof clasped her hands and gazed at the closed gate longingly. It had been a few minutes of silence where neither of them had said anything as the clock slowly ticked towards six thirty. Yet, the road that led up to the house remained empty. Austin gave her a small sad smile. Every day at six, they’d come outside to the roses to await her husband who died on his way back home from work some years ago. No one told her, no one was going to tell her either. Her heart and mind would break if he let that truth slip. He came to accept that as a part of his job as he crouched near her and waited by her side. Tomorrow morning, he’ll leave her another rose near her hand while she sleeps, let her know her husband had to leave early for an urgent task when she wakes up, then he’ll carry on with his duties until six. With some luck, he’ll manage to hire an actor to play her husband for her birthday this year too.