Authors Note: Something I thought up sitting around. Please Review!
"The past is such a cruious creature,
To look in the face,
A transport may reward us,
Or a disgrace."
-Excerpt from the poem: The Past, by: Emily Dickinson
Missed
When he first married Lucy, he devoted himself to her. The smell of scented rosewater floated through the lazy midsummer air. The stickyness caused Lucy to stay inside, avoiding the humidity. She would request he stay with her and he had no real choice but the simply agree to do so.
The silence was often awkward. Though married, there weren't many words worth exchanging. She'd stare blankly at the ceiling, twittling her thumbs, while he mindlessly stared out the window.
Don't get me wrong, he was quite happy with his recent marrige. But at times like these, he'd stare out the window, wondering what Nellie was doing. He missed her shrill laughter, her radient smile. She was so close...but only seperated by time and choices. Seperated by the currents of their lives.
He'd sit like this for hours until his wife was fully asleep. He'd whisper to her that he was getting air, but in reality, he went to visit his baker, standing outisde herself. Her auburn curls tossed round slightly in the breeze. Her midnight blue dress following the direction of her hair. "Nell." He said, and she said nothing. "Ellie." He triend again, shoving her playfully against the shoulder. Again, she didn't respond.
He reached for her stomach and tickled her, gaining her fierce laugh that he wanted nothing more than to hear. "Let's take a walk." She suggested, grabbing his hands. You would expect this to be awkwardfor a married man. But this was his Ellie, Nellie, Nell...Elenor. Awkwardness didn't exist.
They settled into a comfortable silence for awhile. They swung their hands back and forth, listening to the sounds of the midsummer nights. They're reflections glimmering in the water. They're faces pushed into the involentary look of deep thought. "What would Lucy think?" She suddenly said, breaking the silence.
"I don't want to talk about Lucy." He responded cooly, kissing her cheek. She frowned, squeezing his hand tightly. Another silence washed over them. "How's Jucliet?" He asked. Ah, yes. I failed to mention; Juliet Lovett. Or rather Juliet Barker.
xXx Flashback xXx
"Oh Benny! Don't stop! BENNY! Yes!"
xXx End Flashback xXx
"She's going to be beautiful." He commented. "She's got your hair." She says. "Your eyes." He counters. "She and Johanna are gonna be best friends." She says. "And Lucy'll never find out?" He asks. "Never." She responds. "And if she does?" He asks. "We'll have to tell her all about it." She replies smirking. "How it happenned? Or the sex?" He questions. "Oh, I don't know. Both." She answers laughing. "Yer horrible." He says, nudging her slightly.
"Yes, by why skip the best part?" She says jokingly. "You could tell Sher...how amazing I am in bed." She adds. "Oh sure, how smooth and wonderful you are in bed." He says sarcastically. "I'm not a whore am I?" She frowns. "No." He replies authomatically. "What if Lucy gets really mad?" She asks him quietly. "Oh, I don't know. She'll leave me...then I'll have to marry again." He says innocently.
"To who?" She asks. "To a wife...that will dance with me every night." He says dazed. "Oh, you mean the wife that eats chocolate when she's freaking out...and counts to ten before she let's you take off her underpants?" She responds. "Yeah...and we'll have twenty-three kids..." He whispers. "Twenty-three?" She shouts. "Yeah! Twenty-three...why does that concern you?" He kisses her forehead.
"Oh...no reason." She cringes thinking about the total number of kids he's kidding with. "And we'll have a dog?" He says. "We?" She questions with a raized eyebrow. "Me n' my wife. And a parot." he adds. "You'll travel?" She asks. "All over the place. And, and we'll have our own cook!" He smiles brightly. "What's wrong with your wife's cooking?" She asks.
"Nothing...it's just me and my wife like to spend time together before dinner." He shrugs. "What do you do before bed then?" She asks, getting his drift. "You'll ready your romance novels...we have an entire library." He says. "We?" She asks. "Yeah. Who'd you think I was talking about?" She laughed. "Oh I don't know, I thought Mrs. Mooney." She leaned into him, wrapping her shawl tightly around herself, dispite the fact a that the weather was quite warm.
Sometimes, you miss what you just can't have in life. Especially when you're asked to choose between two parts of yourself.
But that was a long time ago. Still, the feeling that wasn't quite regret sat before him. The house was too quiet. Nellie had gone out a couple hours ago. The annoying tick-tock of the clock was the only thing attempting to fill the silence.
Again, even when he was all alone, it was times like these when he sat wondering what would have happened if he married his baker.
Sometimes, in life you get this horrible feeling that you can't do anything about. The empty feeling with 'you made the wrong choice.' written all over it. It's something most people would rather never feel. It's the moment in your life where you turn around, and face the past, and the choices you've made, and wonder what you missed out on.
Either because you weren't bold enough to take the risk, or didn't trust your choice enough. But that's life for you.
The pounding of the her footsteps awoke him from his thoughts. Her face flushed from the obvious midwinter air outside. The normal serene beauty of the winter and snowflakes were covered in the unfortunate blanket of greif, and misfortune in London. There were no last minute chirstmas shoppers, for all the shops had been closed down.
The smell of freshly baked sugar cookies that used to lure children to bakery windows had vanished into thin air.
xXx Flashback xXx
"Mummy, can I go give Johanna a cookie?" Her voice soft and fine. Her big brown eyes and chocolate colored hair in an elegant way, a few curls escaping in the front. "Yes. But becareful, and return as soon as you wish her a merry christmas understand?" The older woman says, cupping the little girl's face with her gloved hands.
"Yeth." She says back, nodding her head, before bolting out the door. She runs down the snow covered street, pushing past the customers standing at the door, and wishes she could give the cookie she was holding to one who couldn't afford it. But she only had two. But her mum didn't know that. She had taken one when she wasn't looking.
She runs into the graveyard, where she seems to know the way rather well. Taking the sharp turns and corners, jumping over the headstones that are in her way. Finally she stops. She bends down, her fingers lingering on the words that are carved into the stone. She tilts her head, as she lays a cookie down in front of it. "Mewwy Chwistmas Aunt Lucy...Johanna says Mewwy Chwistmas too." She says, standing up.
Lucy had lived with them several months, with Johanna before going crazy, and taking aresnic. She hadn't taken enough to die, but ended up on the streets...but it was winter after all and rather cold out, causing the poor woman to freeze to death. She stands up to leave, running the same way she got in. Her green cloak traling behind her with her brown curls bouncing up and down. She turns the corner and heads for a massive house standing silently waiting for some christmas joy.
She knocks loudly on the door of the huge mansion. A butler comes to answer, and lets her in without another word. "Johanna!" She shouts running up the stairs to her best friends room. A blonde peeks out grinning, happy to see her best friend. The brunette hands her a cookie, and doesn't say anything. "Aren't you going to wish me a merry christmas?" The blonde asks raising an eyebrown at her.
"I will." She says with a smirk. The blonde stands at the doorway with her, taking small bites of her cookie. They laughed, and then hugged, before the brunette quietly says, "mewwy chwistmas, Johanna." And turns to leave without another word. "Johanna, did we get a visitor?" A mans voice booms loudly from the library. Johanna does not respond. Instead she closes her door, and quietly retreats into the closet of her room, where her maid will later find her, and shake her head quietly.
"Such an ungrateful child." She'd say, just like any other.
xXx End Flashback xXx
"We should go." She says, her voice quivering. He nods solemnly, as he usually does. But for some reason, this seems a little bit different than his usual broody mood.
She carries several white flowers with her. Her hair swept back into a low bun, several curls framing her small face. Her black dress, and black cloak show that she's still in mourning.
They step out the door in the crisp December air. She clutches his hand tightly. This is her least favorite time of year. There's no holiday cheer. Just saddness and grief in the air. They stop at the graveyard, like the little brunette girl did oh so many years ago. She squeezes his hand as he lays the flowers down in front of his late wife's headstone.
Some things confused him. Especially this. Why did his wife leave her daughter?
But that question was quickly forgotten when the cold months finally melted into yet another spring. The springs that used to feel so familiar, that were now strangers to all of the Londoners. The warm season was already beginning to near. The booming buisness would either grow bigger or die down with the rather humid summer approaching.
"It was her favorite season." Mrs. Lovett says, fingering the dust on the counter. Her eyes moved from him to some random object resting on the wall. You couldn't turn back time. You couldn't fight fate. You could cry all you wanted, but they won't turn time back for you.
In the path of life, you're always facing foward. Your feet glued to face that way, and the only thing you can turn back is your head, and look at all the regrets you have, all the opportunites that you stepped over as the spring would turn into summer and summer would turn into fall and fall would freeze into winter.
xXx Flashback xXx
"Ellie!" He shouted as she lifted her skirt and ran past him. "Turn around." She ordered, as she began to unlace her boots. The shimmering lake water in the spring. He treated to peak, as he began to turn around, but she tackled him to the ground.
"Benny!" She shouted at him. "What? Lacking modesty?" He laughed at her. "Yes!" She shouted back at him. "Modest women don't go swimming in lakes. Nude." He adds. "Yes, well gentleman don't turn around while the lady is trying to undress!" She laughs. "You are in a very naughty position, my love." He breathed into her ear. "Well you don't seem to exactly be protesting, dearie." She shot back. "And why would I protest?" He said back. Her eyes widened. "Benny!" She hit him playfully before rolling off of him.
"What?" He asked, shrugging his shoulders innocently, watching her roll her eyes, before disappearing behind a bush to shed the rest of her clothes so she could go swimming. In the middle of the night. In late May.
"Must be the spring fever." He thinks, smirking...
xXx End Flashback xXx
Summer approached quickly. The familiar midsummer air brought their minds back to the past. The buzzing of children, and the laughter that carried throughout the air on this rare London day.
The sun was setting as the barber and the baker approached the shadowed graveyard. A canopy of leaves hung over head, the cool gentlebreeze obviously coming from the sea near by swept over them. He was silent, as she lay a bundle of flowers at the head of the grave. "You buried her by the sea." He commented. She looked at him, eyes welled up with tears that refused to fall. "Yeah."She responded absent mindedly.
"She would have wanted that." He says again. Obviously, he didn't know what he was talking about. She bit her lowerlip, as she began to turn her back to the sun. Looking over the hills, she sighed. "She would have wanted it." She confirmed softly. "What'd she look like?" He asked. "Benny." She replied, still trapped in her own little bubble that she couldn't get out of.
"She never knew?" He asked. "Yeah. I told her. When Albert died." She asnwered. She obviously wasn't in the mood for a serious questioning. "She would have been beautiful..." He trailed off. "She was." She says back. "She was happy?" He asked. "Of course. But she's happier now."
And there the rush of the feeling came stronger than ever. He never knew either of his daughters. Juliet or Johanna. The words stuck in her head. "She would have been beautiful." He thought. And he knew it. He knew that inside it wasn't close to his fault that he wasn't there to see his daughters grow up. But that didn't make the feeling any weaker.
A feeling that made him look back along his path of life and wonder exactly what he missed out on.