Page 30 of The Voice of Wild Places
Antunes sighed.“And yet we press forward, leaving those we love behind in order to achieve our own ambitions, for better or worse.”
“And what is your ambition, Antunes?”
Antunes studied Watt for another long moment.When he spoke, it was with careful and genuine intent.“I wish for the world to see Brazil as I do.To see her as beautiful and full of life as I do, rich not only in history, but in people as well.People think of Brazil and her neighbors as a land lost to time, but this is not the case.We are on the cusp of a new era, one full of revelations and discovery, and I want to be at the forefront of it.”
Watt couldn’t help but think of Nina.Of all the women left behind to tend to the family while their husbands sought glory.“And what is your wife’s ambition?”
He’d thought this question would’ve disarmed Antunes, but it made the other man smile, quick as a shot.“Are you under the impression wives and mothers cannot have ambitions?Tell me, have you heard of the Brazilian Federation for Women's Progress?”
Watt swallowed, trying very hard not to look at Cornelius.He’d already felt a fool for not studying more of the country’s current issues, and here was more proof of it.“No, I have not.”
“Ah,” Antunes said.“Well I can assure you, it keeps Isabela plenty busy, and personally satisfied.She has no need for a man like me, all we do is get in the way.My children …" Severino sighed, and he met Watt's eye.“I do regret the time I have not spent with them.”
Watt begrudgingly awarded the man a point.He wondered if all Brazilians were so honest.
Cornelius abruptly asked, “And what do you think of the place?”Both men looked over at him.Cornelius cleared his throat.“The site, I mean.”
Antunes grinned.“Are you asking what I think of it, or if I believe it is the cidade?”He uttered this last word in a mere whisper, as if saying it any louder might tempt fate.
Cornelius lifted a shoulder.“Both?”
“The area is … compelling, yes.There was most definitely a settlement there, but there is also …” Severino hummed, tapping his clean shaven chin.“I cannot describe it.You have to see for yourself, yes?”
“Compelling in what way?”Watt asked.
Antunes fixed him with a contemplative look.He asked, “Have you ever stood in a place where you couldfeelhistory, Senhor Johnson?”
Watt nodded, throat dry.
“It feels like that.”
Cornelius felt as though he’d been here before, and he couldn’t put his finger on why.Rio was not Lima, or Bogotá, but its own inherently beautiful corner of the world.He stood at the window, leaning heavily against the wall as he smoked.Watt sat in his bed, reading with Maggie at his feet.He’d been largely quiet all night, save for his interrogation into Severino’s motives during dinner.That was fine by Cornelius, who was marinating in the peace and quiet.
Rio had appeared domestic at first glance, but now that night had settled over her there was music and warm light in the streets.Cornelius fiercely wished they had come in time for his birthday during Carnival, but nevertheless was grateful for being able to set eyes upon the coastal city at all.The night felt endless and fleeting all at once, like sand slipping between the fingers.
“I have to admit something,” Watt said.
“Hm?”Cornelius looked over his shoulder.Watt was tracing his finger over the book’s edges.
Watt didn’t look up when he said, “I’m nervous.”
Cornelius finished his joint, contemplating what to say.He stubbed it in the ashtray and took a seat on the bed beside Watt's feet, leaving his good leg dangling over the edge.He’d only had the one drink at dinner, but was full of drunken emboldenment nonetheless.“You’d be a fool not to be.”
Watt shyly glanced up at him, then back down to his book.
Cornelius waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.
“What’re you afraid of?”
Watt said nothing, and Cornelius wasn’t sure whether to keep pressing the issue.Watt had brought it up, after all.Maggie watched them from the other side of Watt's feet, ears pricked.Cornelius slowly reached over Watt, fingers wiggling in her direction.Maggie was still for only a second before bumping her nose against his fingers.Cornelius couldn’t help but smile, feeling childish for not petting her sooner, and stupidly proud.She huffed against his knuckles, then scrubbed her forehead against his palm.He obliged her, gently petting with the grain of her fur.It was dense, and softer than he imagined.There were also far more grey hairs than he'd previously given her credit for.For the first time, he wondered how old she was.
“Do you know about the 77th Division?”Watt whispered.
Cornelius stilled.He wanted to say,‘of course I do.’
Of course Cornelius had known that Watt was part of the Lost Battalion.That much he’d been able to glean from the man’s letters, and not for the first time he felt a pang of guilt at having not answered them.To have survived such vicious bloodshed and come out on the other side with some semblance of self.It was a miracle.Especially considering many soldiers still fought, if only in the battlefield of their minds.And like Watt's commanding officer, many of them lost those battles.His death was simply more sensationalized, due to the drama of the 77th's ordeal, and the way he chose to go.Cornelius had previously wondered if Watt fought battles in his mind, too.Now he was quite sure the man did.
Instead Cornelius started to pet Maggie again and quietly said, “Yes.”
