Rash Decisions
The rest of the trip passed in a relatively fruitful and pleasant, if not boring, blur.
While ten days on a luxury ship was nothing compared to months in a hostile environment, it was long enough for certain habits to manifest. Cornelius rose later than Watt, but not by much.
Watt was much quieter than him, and it made Cornelius hyper aware of how much he moved, how much noise he made and how much space he took up.
He felt chaotic compared to his well organized and meticulous companion.
They spent their time in either silence or deep conversation, nothing in between.
Watt smiled and bade Cornelius the minimum social niceties required, like he said he would.
They didn’t speak again on personal matters, not since that morning where it all went so right, and wrong.
Cornelius felt rather like he was looking at his own cold persona in a mirror, except Watt smiled more than he did.
Cornelius could imagine the man going about his day, smiling through it all until going home and allowing the mask to fall.
It led him to wonder, what was home like for Watt?
He had no siblings that Cornelius was aware of, and his parents were clearly not the loving sort.
Cornelius couldn't imagine it. He grew up surrounded by his kin, and loved by them.
His Papa was firm but loving, and his Mama ensured they all were well educated, not only in schooling but in life.
Cornelius' brothers learned how to be fathers and brothers and community members, not just working men.
Whereas his sisters learned to be more than mothers and sisters, and to aspire for independence.
On the last night of their trip, tucked into the safety of the warmly lit sitting room in their suite, Cornelius asked, “Will you be missed?”
Watt raised a brow, glancing over the top of his book. He was slumped back in the big chair, an ankle crossed over a knee. “Planning on throwing me overboard?”
Cornelius laughed quietly, shaking his head. “No, I was—”
Watt’s face twitched between surprise and a true smile. Cornelius stumbled over his words before clearing his throat, closing the book he’d been reading. “Friends. You must have friends, or a sweetheart back at home that’ll miss you.”
Watt shifted in the chair, closing his own book. “There are some I will miss. Whether they will miss me, I cannot say. And you?”
Cornelius shrugged. “A colleague of mine back at the University might.”
“And Giovanni?”
“Ah. Yes, I suppose he will.”
“He seems like a good man. Good music, too.”
“He is.” Cornelius admitted quietly. He blinked in surprise.
“How—oh, yes. He did say that you two had met—” Cornelius cleared his throat.
“Earlier in the night. That night.” The moment ballooned with tension at the vague reminder of that evening, pressurized with secrets.
Cornelius felt Watt knew many things Cornelius himself did not tell him. It made him sick.
Watt stood, nodding politely to Cornelius.
“I think I’ll turn in.” They’d decided to take turns with the bed after the second night, Cornelius had felt too much like a pauper making Watt sleep on the couch for the entirety of their trip.
He crossed the room, and Cornelius swallowed, unable to bid him goodnight.
Not without first asking, “How did you know?”
Watt stiffened at the precipice between rooms, then tilted his head in Cornelius’ direction.
The movement revealed the faint scar on his cheek, where he’d been nipped by a dog when he was young.
Cornelius fixated on the mark, unsure why as he’d seen it for days upon days now.
Like reading the same page over and over again, skimming over the same line until it finally jumped out.
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“That mole by your ear.”
Cornelius exhaled. “Oh.”
Cornelius stood too, although he had nowhere to go. “Get some sleep, we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“No,” Cornelius said, because he wasn’t angry with Watt. He was with himself, with the impossible task of—
“It was your smile, too. And the terrible way you sang. I don’t think—” Watt ran a hand through his hair.
“I don’t think your core's changed, just what surrounds it. You’ve always been Cornelius.
You’ve always been curious and mischievous and lonely.
” Watt’s mouth snapped shut after the last word, and his eyes widened.
Cornelius chuckled. He suddenly felt scooped out, hollow and exhausted.
“Cornelius, I—”
Cornelius shivered, turning his gaze away which effectively ended the conversation. For good measure, he quietly said, “It's fine. Good night, Watt.”
Watt gave him a solemn nod, and went to bed. Eventually Cornelius turned in as well, but he didn’t fall asleep for a long, long time.
April 4th, 1930
The next day Cornelius was awake, washed up, shaved, and dressed before Watt. He spent his last precious moments of solitude turning Watt’s words from last night over and over in his head.
He was right, of course he was. Cornelius had been shoving parts of himself deemed too much into the dungeons of his soul all his life, when perhaps he should've been embracing them. Instead of severing bits and pieces of himself in order to make himself more palatable, he could’ve been stitching.
He was hyper aware of Maggie watching him. The dog lay outside the bedroom door, which was unusual for she normally slept right beside Watt. Cornelius felt as if the dog could read his mind and was judging him. 'Surely you have bigger things to worry about.'
And he did. Rio was on the horizon, and their days of leisure and study would come to an end. First was to complete their necessary duties at the embassy, and then meet their guide and translator, one Senhor Antunes, at the hotel.
The day after tomorrow they’d board the train to S?o Paulo, riding it for a week until reaching the place where the Paran? melted into Paraguay, at Corumba.
Once there, connect with Dr. Afranio do Amaral at the Butantan Institute.
Cornelius shuddered at the thought, but obtaining antivenin and the most up to date education was paramount.
And then leave S?o Paulo on a steamer, via Paraguay to Cuiabá and onto the S?o Lourenco beyond that, which would take another eight days.
It would be weeks before they reached the point where only their own feet could propel them further, into the depths of the jungle proper.
And only then Cornelius could say that their trip had truly begun in earnest.
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
April 6th, 1930
Watt was quite sure he’d never seen anything like Rio de Janeiro, and he never would again. It wasn’t due to its beauty, although plenty of that lay in the sweeping granite mountains which cradled the sparkling bay and the raucous colors saturating vegetation and animals alike.
For all its rising tourism and bulging population, Rio appeared impossibly tame.
The port was situated in the Old City, and they passed the promenade of Rua do Ouvidor, full of quality shops and docile social gatherings in the outside seating of pretty cafes.
People lay stretched out on the beach under striped parasols, and they walked down the street without a care in the world.
No one rushed here, and they acknowledged each other in passing.
Concrete and stone reigned, from the streets to the buildings.
The more modern architecture all looked the same to Watt, enormous square towers with too many windows to count, but the older buildings bore a French aesthetic.
The motorcars shone beneath the sun, free from slush and mud and just as orderly as the people who drove them.
The car they rode in was as clean on the inside as it was the outside, and Watt was distinctly aware of the driver eyeing Maggie’s lost hairs clinging to the back seat.
When they arrived at their hotel, Watt tipped the driver a few extra mil reis in addition to their fare, which pleased the man far greater than Watt expected it would.
The hotel was neither grand nor in shambles, and situated a bit more inland than the more ostentatious hotels like the Copacabana dwelling closer to the shoreline, which was fine by Watt.
He paid for their room and board, and they were shown to their room efficiently but no less courteously.
They deposited their suitcases in the room, which had two single beds and the barest of furniture.
A mirror, a couple of chairs and a few stands, along with two large dressers.
They chatted amicably about the pleasant weather, of all things, before taking turns in the public washroom.
Watt hadn’t been sure how he felt all morning.
But now, standing by the window and gazing outside while Cornelius busied himself, his emotions crashed down upon him.
There was excitement dampened by a heavy fog, which was further overshadowed by anxiety and exhaustion.
He’d spoken with Severino Antunes several times, but he’d never met the man and was apprehensive about inviting a stranger into this strange and awkward partnership he had with Cornelius.
He’d be meeting with them soon, prepared to herd them to the next tedious thing.
He couldn’t shake the keen sense he’d forgotten something upon the ship.
He knew he ought to look through his suitcase like Cornelius was, but couldn’t bring himself to leave the sights outside their window.
A busy city, similar in some ways to the one he left behind, but still unknown and different.
Maggie sat at his feet instead of claiming the bed, and he wondered if the numbness spreading throughout his brain was the formations of an attack that would descend upon him later, when not in the relative safety of an enclosed and quiet room.
How did he ever think he could do this?