C’mere Girl
C'mere Girl
“Do you think you could deal with me for the rest of our lives?”
Watt turned his head, blinking those calm eyes of his.
Sand clung to his cheek, and the setting sun beat down upon a face caught between boy and man, transforming every dark eyelash into threads of gold.
His hair used to shine, too. But his father forced him to cut the bronze treasure down to nothing a few days ago, transforming Watt into a civilized man in time for his birthday.
The day had gone well enough, but the relief that had come over Watt when Cornelius suggested they ditch the last few hours of Watt’s own birthday party was strangely satisfying.
There was a version of the boy that only Cornelius saw, and was only ever fully revealed at their spot on the point, right on the lake.
And while on the outside Cornelius appeared to all the world a growing woman, he had started to learn he was no such thing.
He was thinking of telling Watt, and nearly did right then.
But he didn't have enough words, not for that, not just yet.
Distant and thin wheatgrass whispered beneath the wind’s influence.
Birds called from the open sky whilst their younglings cried from meticulous nests in trees that tossed and turned in the wind.
The constraints of polite society were weightless in this place, and practically invisible when the friends were here, together.
Sometimes Cornelius' siblings came and the other boys would swim or canoe, or simply lay on the sand and tell stories.
On special occasions they'd have picnics, or eat what was left of their ice creams from Juilleret's.
For now they were utterly, and blissfully, alone.
“Say what you mean, yeah?” Watt said, but not unkindly.
Cornelius’ fingers dragged through the sand at his sides, and he struggled to keep his breathing cool. “They fought again last night, and … Papa said he’d consider it. Sending me away.”
Watt’s nostrils flared, a magnificent show of surprise on his part. “He won’t. He won’t throw away your potential like that. I’m sure it was only to soothe her, he’s said it before.”
Cornelius chewed on the inside of his cheek before admitting a partial truth.
“Something’s different,” he said, but really he wanted to say, to scream, that he was different.
His body was changing, and with that exponential change was panic, which expressed itself in rebellion.
As such, he had no one to blame but himself for this predicament.
His Mama would only take so much, and this time she'd been pushed too far.
Cornelius carefully added, “He found out she was on the phone with Linden yesterday, and I thought—I thought he was going to give in. Allow Mama to arrange my future while I’m helpless to fight back, ship me off to that dreaded school so I can become a proper lady, an educated housewife.
But they both love you, and I …” He cleared his throat, delicately stepping over a sentiment they both knew existed
Watt’s skin was tanned by the sun, but the flush in his cheeks was still evident from all the words Cornelius didn't say, and their gazes skittered away before hesitantly meeting once again. They had loved each other from the very first time they met. Cared for another. But as time went on, Cornelius knew the way he loved Watt wasn’t the same way he loved his meddling Mama or indulgent Papa, or his siblings that were so unlike Cornelius it was as if they were born on different planets.
Watt stared at him, expression hopeful and eyes ever so fond, and in that moment Cornelius knew he felt the same way.
The back of Watt's hand brushed against his knuckles, soft enough to be mistaken for sand but infinitely warmer.
His strong, persistent attention gave Cornelius the strength he needed to ask him the biggest favor of their lives.
“I—we—could be free if we married,” Cornelius whispered.
“Think of all the discoveries we could make together, and the places we could go. Nothing would have to change, it could just be you and me, like it’s always been.
It doesn’t have to be—it can be an arrangement, Watt.
You can do what you like … be with who you like.
Then there’ll be no reason for me to go away, and I …
I just can’t be what she wants me to be. ”
Watt inhaled sharply through his nose, turning his attention to the sky. Hot emotion built in Cornelius’ throat in response to Watt’s silence, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to keep stubborn, heated tears at bay.
It was a ridiculous thought. Watt was three years older, and had a lifetime of opportunities ahead of him.
The reality of it was they lived in two different worlds, and only this transitive space and time that was summer in Michigan allowed them to co-exist. Besides, Watt’s father would never allow his only son to marry someone so infamous as a laborer’s child.
“Where would we go?” Watt whispered, entertaining the idea of them against the world, if only for a moment.
Cornelius couldn’t help but smile, eyes closing and wind upon his cheeks. “Where wouldn’t we?”
April 7th, 1930
When the men stepped out into the growing rays of sunlight, the world was remarkably quiet.
Breakfast had been satisfying, and Watt hadn’t slept so well in …
well, a long time. He felt better than he had last night, his melancholy temporarily swept away by curiosity.
And he was not the only one in a good mood.
Antunes met them at the hotel first thing in the morning in order to fit in a full day of sightseeing.
They were in what was called the Old City, and there was a great promenade along the water just nearby.
They walked, passing by gallons of milk and loaves of bread on doorsteps, unbothered by thieves and whole.
The sight was picturesque to Watt in a simple way, and he became entranced by the world as they moved through it.
The extravagant reform in the last few decades was clearly visible, and he could see why it was called the 'city of decent people.
' Watt had to agree with this sentiment, at least in the area they frequented.
According to Antunes, who gave a running commentary on the city and her limbs, the growing favelas that overlooked the coastal part of the city were full of decent people, too.
They were simply lower working class, and 1930 had treated them as harshly here as it did in New York City, or anywhere else.
They made do with what they had, cobbling sheets of metal and planks of wood into homes.
The affair wasn't unlike the tenements in the City, but here they did not compete with snow for space.
He found it hard to look at them, given the distance and his heartache.
They reminded him of France, but he had no idea why.
There was no physical similarity between these cobbled together neighborhoods and the aftermath of desecrated villages.
And while there were the typical sounds of a waking city, motor cars roaring to life and pleasant ‘good mornings’ bid in their direction, it was remarkably quiet.
Nothing like screaming, shouting. No bullet fire, or—
“Watt?”
Watt blinked, then looked down at Cornelius’s hand on his shoulder.
His thick fingers gently dug into his muscles, and it forced Watt to focus.
He glanced around, having lost track of himself for a moment.
They were upon the beach now, Antunes had ventured a little ways ahead of them where the mosaic sidewalk gave way to sand.
The ocean was right there, beautiful beneath the rising sun.
There were a few people on the shore, but not many at this early hour.
This beach wasn’t as popular as their later destinations.
There was nothing but sand, palms, road, globular street lamps, and buildings for a good distance in either direction.
Birds stirred in the air overhead, making their way in from the fringes of nature surrounding the bay.
Cornelius’ hand fell away from Watt’s shoulder. “Would you like to go back? You look terrible.”
“I always look terrible. But no, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Cornelius gave him a wry look. “You are far from terrible looking, Watt Johnson, and you know it.” He tapped the ground with his cane dismissively, then turned away in a flourish and joined Antunes.
Watt's heart skipped a beat. He stroked a hand between Maggie’s ears and recomposed himself before joining Cornelius and Antunes where the tide lapped against the sand.
They had no parasol or blanket, but Watt didn’t mind.
He sat down a little ways back from the water’s edge and heaved a great sigh, wrapping an arm around Maggie as she sat beside him.
Cornelius and Antunes deposited their shoes and other personal belongings beside Watt, then rolled up their pant legs.
Cornelius had dark hair on his legs, and Antunes did too.
But it was starker on Cornelius, whose skin was much paler than Antunes' dark complexion.
“Could you hold onto these for me?” Cornelius asked, offering his cane, wallet, and camera directly to Watt.
Watt shook his head in mild disbelief, then nodded.
“Yes.” The camera was secured in its leather case, and he draped the strap around his neck.
He took Cornelius’ cane and laid it across his lap, drawing his knees up to his chest. Watt and Maggie sat together while the others stepped into the water.
He didn’t want to get wet right now, but he could see that Maggie did.
He just wanted to sit. To be in one place for a moment.
And he did feel better now, enough that he could be alone.
If only for a little while. Watt disentangled from her comfort.
He raised his voice and said, “Cornelius, call her over.”