Page 39 of The Voice of Wild Places
Cornelius laughed, the sound harsh and braying.He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.He lowered his hand and whispered, “Watt Johnson, did you really just curse?”
Watt’s eyes lit with amusement, and he grinned.He looked so damn handsome just then, and Cornelius was helpless to do anything but give him the camera.He adjusted his hat and stood with his back to the Institute, one hand in his pocket and the other curled around the top of his cane.
Cornelius tried not to smile as he looked into the camera, and wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded.
My Dear,
What an adventure you’re having, and it’s hardly even begun!I’m nearly jealous, but I’ve had an adventure of my own since you left.I met someone at Grand Central, one thing led to another and we both realized we didn’t have any pressing engagements, so we took a train.Where to, you may ask?
Well, everywhere.We rode for days, hopping from one route to another without a care in the world.It was the most exhilarating and spontaneous thing I’ve ever done, and I’m sure I can hear your distress now.But truly Cornelius, it … it woke me up.I’ve never been happier.
We’re back in Philly now, and I think we’ll stay here for a while.He loves the place, and me, I think.Oh, Cornelius.I do not say this to hurt you, but I never thought I’d love another.It’s quite the feeling, loving again, and I hope you feel it again one day too.Maybe there’s a chance of it where you are now, even.
There’s a few letters here for you, I’ll be sending them along with my own.One’s from your family, and the other two are from your usual correspondents.We are looking forward to hearing about your next adventure, please write soon.
G
Cornelius smoothed out Giovanni’s undated letter, frowning at the damage it had incurred in last night’s tantrum.He couldn’t even remember how his letters and papers had gotten into such a state.He’d returned from picking up his mail from the concierge, a stack that had initially elated him.He’d told everyone where he was going to be, but he didn’t expect so many people to write.He’d opened Giovanni’s first, and then Mama's.Everything afterwards was … hazy.Including the phone call back home.
What an idiot he’d been, a foolish drunk.But really, what else did an alcoholic do after hearing their Papa died?
They sat and drank, trying to figure out what the last words had been between them.
They sat and drank, wondering where they’d buried him.
They sat and drank, writing ten different letters of resignation from this whole endeavor.
Before Watt came, Cornelius had fully worked himself into the idea of going home.Being with Mama, his family.He hadn’t been home since he left for France, and how frail was Mama now?Cornelius had always envisioned Papa the way he was when he left, but he knew that couldn’t be the case.
But then Watt had came to his door and asked for company.And just like that, the spell had broke.Cornelius couldn’t go home.Not now.He’d go after this was all done.He’d call Mama again tonight, and as often as he could before phones were no longer an option.She would be pleased to hear he decided to stay; she hadn't been happy when he'd floated the idea of abandoning his responsibilities.
Cornelius sighed, and began to write.To Gabriel and Dimitri, to Mateo, to his siblings and to Giovanni.He acutely felt these were his last words, which was ridiculous.He’d be able to send another fleet of letters in Cuiabá, and perhaps even more from Bacairy Post.But this was the last time he’d be able to write freely, taking his time to get everything that he wanted down onto paper.
He stayed up well into the night, beginning each letter with similar content.How his voyage had been, what the weather and region was like.The food, the beach, and Watt.That his partnership was going well, thateverythingwas going well.He set aside certain photos that he'd developed and wanted those at home to have.
He told Giovanni that he was happy for him, and to take a train and visit Mama for him, if he had the time.
He told Gabriel and Dimitri that he was envious of their new residence, a little cottage tucked into the woods like a damn fairy tale, and to give the recovering Lili his best.
He thanked his Peruvian friend, Mateo, for all his hard work these past few months, all the research and letters full of information he sent to acquaint Cornelius with South America’s current affairs, particularly those of Brazil.
He told Mama that he loved her, and that he was sorry he couldn’t be there to bury Papa.He asked her to pass on his love to the others, and ended the letter promising to write again as soon as he could.
There was one sibling who did not live at home, and Jimmy was the one Cornelius needed to speak with the most.He should’ve called him before, tried to meet up with him in the City or something, and regret curdled his gut.Especially when reading the letter he'd sent in response to Cornelius'.It was full of concern, of confusion and demands that Cornelius explain himself.Was he safe?Was Watt dangerous?Had he tried to blackmail Cornelius?Honestly, becoming a father had turned his worrying streak into something fierce.
Cornelius hoped the news of his patching things up with Watt would comfort Jimmy the way he’d comforted Cornelius all the time ago.To know that Watt hadn’t meant to leave them behind, and that he turned out okay.That he was in fact, a good man.Cornelius had enclosed pictures in most of the letters, but he sent his most personal ones to Jimmy with a request to keep them safe, and a soft warning that he’d be sending along more.
And when it was all said and done, he didn’t tell anyone that his heart had broken tonight.
That he would give anything to see Papa one last time.
To tellhimgoodbye.
How Typical
April18th,1930
Watt was not having the time of his life.
