Caring
It took about eleven days from his original noticing for Sweeny to make a secondary revelation. It was a Sunday and they had just returned from church. They attended church now, like a respectable couple. Sweeny didn't really listen, but Mrs. Lovett…Mrs. Todd…his wife…seemed to find something in it. After the priest had blessed the congregation and most everyone had left, she would kneel there for a while longer, sometimes light a candle, even drop a coin into the donation slot on the particularly bad days, the ones he noticed tears in her eyes as she bowed her head.
Today was one of those bad days. During the Mass, Sweeny watched her out of the corner of his eye, actually half-listening to the bible readings and the homily. She watched the priest, the readers, the enormous crucifix, all with a look of heartbroken desperation.
He wondered if she was looking to redeem herself, if she had seen some error in the things they had done. Or if it wasn't her own soul she sought redemption for, or if it was for that of the street wraith she had looked on nearly as a son. He recalled the homily two weeks ago had been on the fires of hell and the people who would end up there. His wife had sobbed quietly through it.
As he waited outside the church for her to appear, solemn and strange, so unlike herself, the secondary realization came to be. He cared that she was unhappy. It wasn't a declaration of love or anything, he didn't even know if he liked her, let alone loved her, but he did care that she was unhappy. And the idea that he cared about anything other than his now-achieved revenge and his late wife, was startling. Not that he didn't care about anyone…actually…he didn't care for much. Apathy was his general state of being, and the break of that apathy was a little disconcerting. It would have been frightening, but nothing really scared him anymore. When the worst has occurred, nothing is left to fear.
Mrs. Lo—Todd walked down the front steps of the church to where he was waiting. She walked towards him, but did not pause when she reached him, only kept walking down the lane towards their seaside house. He followed, and the irrational urge to ask her what was wrong overwhelmed him. But even if he did, what was he to call her? Mrs. Lovett? He could not; she was Mrs. Lovett no more. She was Mrs. Todd. But him calling her so would be odd, would it not? He had never really considered this before. Nellie? Was he to call her by her given name? He was her husband, he had the right, did he not? Though he could not remember why he had married her if neither of them had much cared what occurred after the judge's murder.
"Nellie?" He began, tentative. She flinched, the first reaction he had drawn from her since London. After the flinch, though, she seemed to tighten up her entire body, continuing the stiff walk, not looking back. He tried again, still uncertain.
"Nellie?"
Another flinch, this one barely noticeable, but she still did not turn. They were already halfway back to the house. Maybe if he just let her be, she would come around in her own time? Nonsense, she hadn't said a word since they'd been married. He thought about this as they walked, her slightly in front of him, practically ignoring his existence. Once they got back to the house, she disappeared. He climbed down the little path down the grassy bluff between the little cottage and the sea. He could hear her climbing down, but did not turn to look.
"Nellie."
She stiffened, stared out at the sea, refused to look at him. He could feel a flash of rage rise in him, a wild animal. The demon barber's temper spiked. He seized her shoulders, shook her.
"Look at me, damn you!"
She did, and her eyes were dark and empty, still a little wet from the tears she had shed during Mass.
"What do you want." Her voice was tired and dusty, each word had an air of finality, like it was the last word she hoped to speak.
The rage died as quickly as it had risen.
"Are you all right?" The words sounded wrong and awkward after the rage.
She did not answer, merely turned back to the ocean. And he wondered if this was his fault, and came to the immediate and paralyzing conclusion that it was, it had to be. There didn't seem to be words left in him, so he turned, climbed the bluff, went back to the house.
She came in long after he had gone to sleep, and sat in a kitchen chair, staring into nothingness, until dawn, when he found her, asleep, slumped over the chair. And unbidden, the words came to his mind.
What have I done?
I know that neither Todd nor Mrs. Lovett was ever said to be religious, but if they're looking respectable, that's what the respectable folk do. And after 'try the priest' and all, how could I not have them attending a Catholic church with a priest? If you credit me with nothing else, do give me points for irony. REVIEWS if you please. This is chapter three and I'm sadly lacking.