Pier 95
Watt despised New York City.
It wasn't the chaos and noise, it wasn’t the perpetual smoke and impossible buildings.
It was home.
There was a certain way that familiar places crawled through your skin, twisting you from the inside out. Despite standing on the absolute fringes of the city, he could feel the weight of his father’s expectations from miles away.
The North River crashed against Pier 95, doing its best to distract him from the blunt farewell that consisted of his father’s doubt and his mother’s hollow apathy.
He wasn’t sure why he thought today might have warranted something different from either of his parents, but alas.
He felt incredibly defeated, which was a terrible way to begin an adventure. Not only defeated, but anxious.
Cornelius had given many reassurances that he would be here on time and not a minute sooner, and no he didn’t want Watt to pick him up from the hotel.
They communicated by telegram several times, but Watt didn’t dare call again, and Cornelius didn’t either.
Any details regarding the trip were ironed out through paper and wires.
It didn’t bode well that Cornelius refused to spend a minute longer with Watt than he had to, and Watt truly didn’t know what to do about it.
He wanted to talk, to learn, but he felt like he’d only crush eggshells in the process.
He’d never met anyone like Cornelius, but he knew he wasn’t a novel concept.
Not in comparison to the hundreds of people throughout history who considered themselves a different gender from what they had been born, but this was different. This was someone he knew.
But did he?
And, circling back to his previous thought, how could he be so sure that he hadn’t met someone like Cornelius?
God, if only he had a word. There were terms, he knew this, but transvestite didn’t seem right to him.
Even he could see that Cornelius’ choice wasn’t a simple matter of cross dressing. He was a man.
And how … well. His mind wandered back to his last encounter with Cornelius, how the other man’s chest puffed with pride and defense. Mountainous shoulders sloped down to a chest that was as relatively smooth as his own. Were his breasts … bound? Was it uncomfortable?
His thoughts stuttered as one question gave way to another, compounding in their inappropriateness.
Maggie huffed at his feet, ears perked. Watt followed her line of sight back to the main dock, and his heart jumped in his throat at the sight of Cornelius and the pianist from the bar.
Watt had no idea he was coming, and he wondered at how they knew each other.
They hadn’t seen him yet, Cornelius was nervously staring up at the Eastern Prince.
The impressive ship was nearly five hundred feet long, its hull painted red.
The pianist elbowed him, mouth moving until Cornelius smiled bright enough to dispel the light fog surrounding the harbor.
He used his cane, but wasn't leaning on it as heavily as he had been last time they met. Unbidden, Watt’s gaze descended over Cornelius’ figure.
The man looked raffish, but Watt couldn’t put his finger on why.
Cornelius’ dark hair was slicked back neatly, and he wore a long sleeve shirt tucked into earthy tweeds.
The trousers rested high on his waist, where they cinched his slightly bulging stomach.
He wore no waistcoat, only suspenders. The white fabric was tight around his wide shoulders and pectorals, leaving little room for imagination.
If he had breasts, they were well hidden.
Watt sucked in a deep breath, wiping his mind of all thoughts and steeling himself for the encounter ahead.
The pier was small compared to its brethren at a stocky seven hundred feet. It was filled with passengers mounting the gangplank, a scenario that was claustrophobic to say the least. He technically should've already been in line, but he didn’t want to do so without Cornelius.
Watt opted to wait right where he was, standing on the precipice between wood and water.
It would’ve been so easy to take a step and fall into the depths of the harbor.
Tug boats approached, huffing thick gray smoke into the air which were insignificant in comparison to the cruise liner’s columns of black wafting into the cloudy sky. This was it. No turning back.
The dock hummed beneath the force of the engines waiting to be fully unleashed, beneath the tension of families, friends, and lovers saying goodbye.
Once again, Watt was struck with an ache for something that did not exist. Someone who cared enough to send him off.
Perhaps if he had siblings, there would’ve been a chance. But no, there was only him.
Cornelius and his companion caught up to Watt.
Cornelius shook his hand, breathless as he said, “Sorry for making you wait, the traffic was chaos.” His vowels were long, allowing for some of his childhood accent to come through like it had when he was drunk.
Watt had assumed the French-Canadian accent had been buried, but perhaps Cornelius merely hid it well beneath his carefully spoken tone.
Cornelius gestured to the pianist, who offered his hand to Watt with a dashing smile. “This is Giovanni Toliver, a good friend of mine.”
Watt took Giovanni’s hand, shaking it firmly. “Good afternoon, it’s good to see you again.”
“Hello, angel.” Giovanni smiled, giving Watt a wink.
Cornelius raised a brow and opened his mouth, but the SS Eastern Prince bellowed.
The cacophonous noise rattled Watt’s skull, and he couldn’t help the flinch that overcame him.
Maggie pressed tight against his leg, alert and quiet in the face of danger.
Cornelius, unbothered by the horn that in truth sounded more like an exponentially amplified dying bull than anything else, side-eyed Maggie.
After the racket ended, Cornelius pointedly asked, “Are dogs allowed in first class?”
Fighting the tremble in his voice, Watt said, “This one is.”
Cornelius nodded, then looked over at Giovanni and gave him a quivering smile. “That’s it, then.”
“Come here.” Giovanni pulled Cornelius into a fierce hug.
They whispered and patted each other on the back, for all intents and purposes it appeared like two good friends saying goodbye.
But Watt had to duck his head, half turning away from them.
It felt profoundly more intimate than that.
Once again, he remembered the sort of place he'd first met Giovanni, and Cornelius.
After a moment Giovanni called, “Angel.”
Watt looked up, cheeks flushing. Giovanni and Cornelius were separated now, and Giovanni’s hand was extended to him once more.
Watt took it, slightly confused until Giovanni pulled him closer, into a hug.
It was awkward and took Watt far longer than it should have to reciprocate, simply because it’d been years since he’d done this with anyone, and he didn't know Giovanni.
In a quiet demand, Giovanni said, “Take care of him, yeah?”
“I will.” Watt answered in kind, compelled to assure the man.
After saying farewell to Giovanni, Cornelius and Watt approached the ship.
Their luggage had been transported early this morning, and all that remained was to climb the gangplank.
Watt and Maggie lead the way upwards, with Cornelius following close behind.
It wasn’t as nearly of a crowded experience now, but the officer on deck who checked them in raised a brow at their late arrival.
He parsed through Watt’s documents a moment longer than necessary, glancing at Maggie.
Watt could see the math formulating in the man’s head, and the moment it gave way to an obvious answer.
Service dogs for veterans weren’t a common aid, but they weren’t unheard of either.
Especially for a man with a medal of honor.
The officer said, “Welcome aboard, Mr. Johnson. Your valet will be along shortly.” He bowed his head and added, “Thank you for your service.”
The process was smoother for Cornelius, who received none of the officer’s previous apprehension regarding their lateness.
Watt led the way to a section of railing that was clear, and Cornelius followed closely behind.
They were able to see Giovanni from here, and when the man caught sight of them he waved.
Cornelius waved back, and Watt did as well but with half as much heart as his companion.
Watt scanned the dock, but there was no one else there he knew.
He swallowed and looked away, only to find Cornelius watching him.
Cornelius didn’t ask where Watt’s parents were, and he didn’t offer an explanation for their absence.
A minute or two passed and they spent it in silence, elbows jostling every now and then as people moved around them, but otherwise they stood decidedly apart.
The inches between them could’ve been a chasm, and Maggie neatly occupied it.
The ship’s horn called one last time, and the proud black and red chimneys released smoke anew.
Watt didn’t flinch this time, but he did stiffen beneath the overwhelming vibration of the ship’s twin diesel engines working overtime.
For a tenuous moment it was as if the dock itself was pulling away, not the ship.
Disoriented, Watt clenched his hands into fists and fought the rolling of his stomach, then gripped the railing.
Cornelius was soon after, one hand clenching the railing so hard his knuckles turned white, while the other gripped his cane.
Neither man let go until the dock was but a distant memory.