Page 36 of The Voice of Wild Places
Cornelius lifted a brow, and for a moment Watt thought he’d be denied.Had he done something wrong?
Cornelius motioned for Watt to come in, and when he took a step back the movement was jerky and stiff.“It’s a bit smoky in here, just to warn you.”
And so it was.Smoke veiled the ceiling in layers, a bluish black haze that swirled as they disturbed it.There were two ashtrays full of ash and cigarette butts, one on the coffee table and one on the dresser.Rings decorated the furniture, and Watt traced their origins to a half full glass of whiskey.A bottle sat on the coffee table, also half full.More disturbing than the drink or smoke were the papers.On the floor, on the tables and chairs.Some were crumpled into piles, some were trampled on and caught in the crossfire of what looked to be an intense pacing session.Others were simply laying about, half filled with words.It looked like something from a mystery novel.Watt stood in the entryway and stared, unsure what to do.
“Fuck.Donnez-moi un moment.”Cornelius snapped, and abruptly began snatching up sheets of paper like they were nothing.It was like watching a thundercloud move through the room, and Watt couldn't stand it.He started forward, taking Cornelius by the wrist.No thought entered the movement, and when his mind caught up to his body he immediately let go.Cornelius glowered at him, brows set in a hard line and lips pressed thin.He lowered the arm once caught in Watt’s grasp, balling his hands into fists.
“You’re ruining it,” Watt whispered.
Cornelius reared back, stricken.His hands opened spasmodically, and papers fluttered to the ground.His lip trembled, and his bloodshot eyes filled with something like rage.They were so blue, the water building in them magnified the pigment tenfold.Watt braced for the incoming hit by closing his eyes.He thought,'Go on, I can take it.'
It wasn’t a hit so much as a body slam.
Cornelius’ arms slid around his middle, cinching tight around his ribcage.His face scrubbed against Watt’s sternum, throwing his glasses to the floor.Watt caught them before they hit the ground, and reflexively hugged Cornelius back.The fierceness of Cornelius’ embrace was at once familiar and all encompassing.Watt’s arms encircled Cornelius’ shoulders, and he held the man with all the strength he had, doing his best to ground him to the earth.He held Cornelius for the longest time, basking in his warmth.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Cornelius shook his head, rubbing his nose back and forth against Watt’s chest.His sleepshirt was thin, and wet with Cornelius' tears.
Watt swallowed, trying for courage.“Listen.Could I stay here for a little while?We don’t need to talk, and you don’t need to stop what you’re doing.I just needed some quiet company, and … maybe you do too?”
Cornelius stiffened for a tenuous second, then relaxed and nodded.He pulled away and wiped roughly at his eyes with his sleeve, and Watt pretended not to pay attention.Cornelius glanced up at him, face flushed.“Okay,” he said, and whiskey perfumed the air between them.
The bed was the only place not covered in papers, so Watt sat on the edge of the mattress.Cornelius offered him a drink, and Watt took it.Cornelius did not sit on the bed, still rigid and restless.He stood beside Watt and lit up a joint, frowning at the mess he’d created.Watt took a sip of the whiskey which was warm and frankly, terrible.He lifted a hand towards the stick and Cornelius lifted an eyebrow.“It’s not tobacco, you know.”
“I can smell that.”
Cornelius passed it over without further argument.Watt inhaled the thick smoke derived from earth and paper, it was drier than hell and burned going down.He coughed and handed it back over.“Have you had that since New York?”
Cornelius took a hit, lifting his shoulder as he did so.On the exhale he said, “Philly actually, but yes.”
Watt shook his head.“Nothing if not prepared.”
Cornelius said nothing.He offered the joint back to Watt, and they shared it in silence.A syrupy warmth spread throughout Watt’s body, and his mind slowed.The thing was it didn’t feel slow, but more like what he supposed normal to feel like.He was able to examine each thought before it fled away, and his anxieties were slippery, unable to take firm hold.He simply existed within himself, content to do so.
Cornelius butted the joint and slid onto the floor, his back propped against the bed.If Watt moved his leg a little he could bump against the man’s side.Cornelius said, “It helps.”
“With your leg?”
“That too.”
“Me too.I think.”Watt nodded.He took a sip of his whiskey, then decided to give up on it.It was making his stomach sick, and he felt pleasant enough already.Cornelius was playing with his glass, slowly turning it in place on the floor.He said, “I’m a drunk, you know.”
Watt rolled the words over in his mind, thinking about their time together.Cornelius didn’t seem like a drunk.He’d hardly consumed any alcohol in their time together.Three times that Watt could remember, and it’d been over a month now.He didn’t know what to say.
Cornelius went on, quieter than before.“I’d been arguing with myself all day whether to settle in and drink alone, or go with you and Severino.By the time I got to my room I had myself all worked up, proud as a peacock.I decided to eat dinner with you, instead of being alone.”
Cornelius deliberately tipped his glass and spilled his drink onto the floor.They both watched the amber liquid spread across the wood.Whiskey met paper, soaking into the fibers and intermingling with the ink.“But I had a feeling I needed to check the mail first.It couldn't wait.”Cornelius sighed, drawing the air from deep within. “And in the stack of letters waiting for me was one from Mama.”
“Is she—?”Watt began to ask in a whisper, but Cornelius threw his glass at the wall.Watt startled at the deafening impact, half rising from the bed to brace himself.
“Papa’s dead,” Cornelius hissed, then buried his head in his hands and tore at his hair.His shoulders heaved, and he began to weep.Enormous, brutal sobs that tore Watt’s heart right out of his chest.Watt slunk onto the floor beside Cornelius and embraced him for the second time that night, holding the man while he grieved.
He’d never seen Cornelius cry before.Not as children or otherwise.The man always seemed so unshakable, too stubborn for anything like tears.When they were younger Cornelius had idolized his father, followed him around everywhere, which in turn meant that Watt did too.Watt had always been envious of their relationship.In truth, he’d never known that fathers were supposed to treat their children with anything other than indifference at best and brutal punishment at worst.
Cornelius’ father hugged his children.He spoke to them, kind and stoic and gentle.He asked his wife and children about their day, and Watt’s too.He’d taken Watt under his wing, taught him how to shoot a gun and paddle on the lake.Most importantly, he taught him what a father could be.Ought to be.
Watt sniffed, and Cornelius lifted his eyes to Watt's.“Are you alright?”
