Brave Enough #2
Cornelius stayed up writing in his journal by the dwindling light of the campfire.
They kept it lit, but not roaring. It was his shift, and the night was quiet.
The moon was half full and twice as glorious for what it lacked.
He was grateful that it was his turn to stay awake, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he tried.
It was like every Big Thing that had been lingering in the back of his mind since agreeing to this venture had decided to shatter the bars of the cage containing them.
His complicated feelings for Watt and their past, doubts regarding their mission and his own competence, and every insecurity that lingered involving his own manhood.
Watt slipped out of the old hut that once housed families and otherwise, but now only gave weary travelers temporary shelter. He was quiet and catlike despite his size, and Cornelius thought, ‘He belongs out here.’
Watt knelt beside Cornelius on the ground, offering a tired smile. Quietly, he said, “I can take over, if you’d like.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“To be honest, I don’t think I’ll be able to either.”
Watt hesitated, then nodded. “Let me know if you want to switch.” He began to straighten and Cornelius reached out, taking hold of his wrist. Watt stared down at Cornelius’ hand, eyes reflecting the fire’s light.
Cornelius quickly let go, ducking his head.
He closed his journal and said, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Watt said, and after only a moment’s hesitation, sat beside Cornelius. He drew his knees up to his big chest, linking his arms around his legs. His body fit snugly against Cornelius’, and it struck Cornelius then that they were alone.
“Where’s Maggie?” He whispered.
Watt smiled. “Afraid we’ll be caught out with a chaperone?”
Cornelius grinned despite his melancholy. “Careful, you might develop a sense of humor.”
“Ah, and what a terrible thing that would be.” Watt bumped his shoulder against Cornelius’.
Cornelius chuckled softly, then glanced over at the hut. “Are the others awake?”
Watt shook his head, but Cornelius still felt apprehensive. You could never be too careful. And yet Cornelius had to talk to someone about this, get out of his own head. He didn’t want to wander far from camp, not after last night’s events. What had he been thinking?
The fire cracked, a once whole piece of scavenged wood collapsed into cinders, and it wasn’t unlike the epiphany that cracked Cornelius’ upside the head. He’d been showing off. Posturing. Arrogant.
Cornelius ran a hand through his hair, the sides of which had grown long and unruly. He desperately needed a haircut. Watt watched him out of the corner of his eye, and waited.
“I’ve a lot on my mind,” Cornelius started. He found it hard to say anything more, and went quiet. What an auspicious beginning.
“They don’t have much storage space, do they? Minds, I mean.” Watt murmured.
Cornelius’ lip quirked. “No, they don’t.” He sighed, the night air far crisper than it was during the day. Cold, but not the kind that awaited one in Michigan. Here it was sharp and sudden, so unlike the aching and endless cold that soaked one to the bone.
“I—I wonder if I am doing women a disservice.”
Watt blinked, long and slow. “I don’t understand,” he said after a moment. “Can you explain?”
“I—do you remember when you came to my office with Mrs. Fawcett?”
Watt’s confusion softened, and a smile touched his lips. “Yes.”
“She wanted to go with him, to come here. But Percy said it wasn’t her place, that she wasn’t fit for it.
And this is just one case of many, men telling women what they can or cannot achieve, that they are physically less capable.
Too delicate. And yet, here I am. With a lame leg, to boot.
It hurts like hell fire, but I’m here. Capable.
But none of the credit will go to women, because I …
” Cornelius trailed off, frustrated. He desperately wanted another cigarette, or better yet a drink.
But his lungs were heavy with all the tobacco he’d already smoked that day, and his throat was drier than sandpaper.
He'd been the one to ensure no alcohol had come along with them, and now he was angry with himself for it.
Watt studied him, brows drawn together. Slight wrinkles creased his eyes and mouth, and Cornelius became strangely fixated on them.
He wanted to trace them, feel how deep they went.
It was too early to tell what they were carving into Watt’s face, and the next few years of his life would determine whether they deepened into laugh or frown lines.
Cornelius thought maybe they were leaning towards the latter, and he wanted to change that.
But all Cornelius had done in his life was make people frown. Hell, Watt was doing it now.
Slightly baffled, Watt said, “But you aren’t a woman, Cornelius. Why should … ‘the credit’ go to them?”
Cornelius made a frustrated sound. He gripped his head with both hands.
“I am here, but here?” His hands drifted downwards, grazing his throat, pausing meaningfully on his chest, then continuing until his hands came to rest in his lap.
Voice rigid and angry, he said, “The physical proof they need is right here.”
Cornelius felt as if he could tear himself open right then, and abruptly realized he had. He was set aflame, even if the fire was several feet away from them.
In that slow way of his, Watt said, “I hear what you’re saying, but I think you’re looking at this wrong.”
Cornelius lifted his head to look at him. “Why?”
Watt scratched at the scruff along his jaw that had taken hold since Cuiabá, a much darker color than the hair atop his head which had grown, but lightened in color from bronze to gold.
He said, “I don’t know, because how can anyone know who someone is without being explicitly told, but you may be the first …
transvestite? I don’t know the right word, I’m sorry if that’s not right.
But you may be the first American of that nature to go on an expedition into the of this magnitude.
Isn’t that something worth claiming the credit for?
And besides, there are women explorers. Hell, we’ll be meeting up with one soon, and you know many.
Women are more than capable of forming their own stories without us men doing it for them, you know. "
Watt said this last bit playfully, as if Cornelius had been saying otherwise.
Cornelius stared at him, at a loss for words.
For a few moments they said nothing. Cornelius reluctantly turned his gaze to the sky when he realized he’d been staring open mouthed at Watt for longer than appropriate. Two thoughts hit him.
Watt was right. And Watt was playing with him. Comfortable enough to. He wasn’t shocked by Cornelius’ question, or put off. He even sounded interested, like he’d been waiting to be asked this very question. Or perhaps more simply, any question at all.
Cornelius lifted a shoulder. “That word never really fit me. It’s … not about the clothes. Or not just about the clothes.”
Watt nodded. “Is there one? A word?”
Cornelius shook his head. “I don’t know. Man is fine enough for me.”
“Alright.” Watt rubbed at his beard again. “Can I … ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“When did you know?”
Cornelius’ fingers twitched, then relaxed.
He glanced at the campfire, then to Watt.
Their past temporarily superimposed on the now, of Cornelius telling Watt all those years ago how he felt, who he was inside.
He said, “I … I was never a girl. Not in the way they were supposed to be. I was rough and played hard, asked too many questions and refused to be tamed. Mother said I’d grow out of it, that it was the hazards of growing up in the country.
But I didn’t. When I got older, after I’d … ”
Cornelius’ face heated exponentially. “Once my body started changing, I knew something was wrong. Off. Everything fit wrong, including my own skin. I hated to be seen in dresses, or seen at all. I didn’t know why, only that I was angry.
I thought maybe it was the way women were treated, the expectations put upon them.
But one day, when you were swimming in the lake with Jimmy … ”
Watt startled a little, surprised to hear of himself. When Cornelius didn’t go on, Watt said, “What?”
Cornelius cleared his throat. There was no way around this.
“During the last summer you visited, I—well. I thought it was a crush. I was just so fascinated by you, and in a way that was entirely like anything I’d felt before.
And then that day at the lake came, and watching you swim I just thought …
I don’t want him. I want to be him. Not you you, but …
I wanted your life. I wanted to be a man. ”
Okay, so he might have lied a little. But he couldn’t make Watt uncomfortable, not now. Although, by the rising color in Watt’s face Cornelius had already done that by tenfold.
“I remember that day,” Watt whispered, and his eyes glazed over with memories. “I almost didn’t get in the water. It felt wrong somehow, that you and your sisters weren’t allowed to swim. But you kept pestering me, telling me I wouldn’t get another chance to dip my toe in Lake Michigan. So I did.”
Cornelius grinned. “Me? A pest?”
Watt chuckled. “The most troublesome of them all.”
“Oh, calm down.” Cornelius bumped against Watt.
Watt bumped him back. They exchanged smiles again, then stared into the fire for awhile, digesting truth. Hesitantly, Watt asked, “And do you … like men? Is that why you were there, at that place?”
Cornelius should not have felt as blown away by that question as he did. Nevertheless, he replied with a quick and deflecting, “Do you?”
Watt’s throat clicked as he swallowed. He reached for the chain around his throat, running his thumb over the cool metal.
The following silence was everything, and Cornelius shifted.
Not away from Watt, just in place. The silence stretched on, and on, so Cornelius let it be.
He felt sure of Watt’s answer now, and he didn’t want to pressure Watt into anything.
Besides, he felt so hollowed out from doling out his own honesty that he was content to just exist side by side.
“There was a man in my regiment that I was fond of. It wasn’t …
like that, but … we’d the City left together, stayed together through training and everything.
He was the only one who seemed to really understand me, and didn’t mind that I didn’t talk very much.
He talked enough for both of us, anyways.
He was a storyteller, but his tales were simple.
Apple picking on the farm upstate, chasing after cows and persistent younger siblings.
I hadn’t heard someone speak with such vigor and life since …
a long time. Of course the stories were for everyone, not just me.
But we had our own … moments, I guess you could say.
I’d always wondered about myself, and the way he looked at me sometimes I wondered about him too.
And for the first time in my life there wasn’t someone telling me—”
Watt paused abruptly, sucking in air. And then, so quiet that Cornelius could hardly hear him, Watt went on.
“I've always known that I didn’t like girls like that. Even when I was young. And my father knew, too. He tried to shame it out of me, beat it out of me. I still—I haven’t, Cornelius, but when I was with him, I wanted to.
I thought about it, dreamed about it. Wrestled with myself over what to do, because there was this shine in his eyes when he spoke to me you know?
And was it because he felt the same way I did, or was it all in my head? But I wasn’t brave enough, I couldn’t—”
Watt broke off, mouth closing so hard his teeth clacked.
Cornelius’ heart ached for him, it really did.
He was overcome with an intense desire to hug Watt, to hold him and tell him it was okay, that love had no bounds.
But it sounded like maybe Watt was coming around to that truth on his own, and Cornelius didn’t think his word would mean much to Watt.
Instead, he slipped an arm around him, resting his hand on Watt's shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and Watt released a mighty sigh that might’ve been a little choked.
“What’s his name?” Cornelius asked.
Watt closed his eyes. “Frederick.” After a moment he opened them again, and tears spilled onto his cheeks. “His name was Frederick.”
Was. Did Watt see him die? Or was he faced with a dead body, or perhaps worse yet, no body at all?
With his free hand, Cornelius reached into the space between their laps and curled his finger around Watt’s.
It was his pinky finger, the one missing the tip.
A story Cornelius had not yet heard. Watt did not startle.
He smiled, a small and tremulous thing. He leaned against Cornelius and held his hand in return, just by the one finger, and they sat there together for some time in silence.
Watt drifted off to sleep and Cornelius took up watch again, allowing the man to rest in his arms. He stared up at the sky, realizing he’d spoken to Watt about damn near everything under the moon.
Everything but the contents of Nina Fawcett’s letter.