Page 115 of Resilience on Canvas

“It sounds kind of pathetic when you put it like that.”

Robert let out a frustrated groan and kissed Henry hard on the mouth.

“Justlisten to me, you Goddamn bastard,” Robert scolded. Taking a step back, Robert removed his hands from Henry’s waist and flung his arms wide, gesturing around the room. “All of these creations, they’re proof of that passion you have in you. Our government would beluckyto have you workin’ for them. Because of yer skillsandyer passion.” Robert came closer again and placed his hands on Henry’s hips. “Will you try this? Please?”

Henry tipped forward, kissing their foreheads together.

“Maybe,” he said. “How?”

“At the bottom of the flyer, it says that there’ll be someone at City Hall every Monday for the next month to talk to ‘pro-spec-tive artists.’ Which means people like you, right?”

“Uhm, I think so? Do you really think they’d want me?”

“Of course they’d want you. How could they not?” Robert huffed a laugh. “Ah, Hen, I wish I could help you see how amazing you are.”

Henry’s lips curled into a half smile, and his brows pinched together.

“I’m sorry, Robert. I’m tryin’ to see what you see. I swear I am.”

“You will, little wolf.” Robert kissed him softly on the lips. “I think this’ll help. Bein’ paid for yer art.”

Henry’s small smile fell.

“What about you, though?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Will you be mad? If they hire me?” Henry said. “Because then you won’t be the one earnin’ the most money, probably, you know? I mean, I have to hope that Uncle Sam would pay me more than seventy or eighty cents a day. So, I would want to use the money to pay my parents back for the funeral. If you still want to pay them back for that. Or I could pay for food and such for our, uhm, our family. Just... I’ll pay for whatever you want me to pay for.”

Robert’s expression softened. Christ, how sweet Henry was. Even though Robert might have been mad if this had happened back in Guymon, especially when they’d first met, or even when they’d first been romantic with each other, Robert couldn’t never be mad over something like that now. Not when him and Henry had fought and clawed their way to California together. Robert wanted the best for Henry. Even if “the best” might mean that he’d be left behind.

“No,” Robert said with as much sweetness and sincerity he could muster. “I promise I won’t be mad, Hen. I’ll be happy for you.”

Henry smiled bashfully for a moment, but then, within a heartbeat, his eyes went wide.

“If I find some kind of work with this Federal Art Project... what’ll that mean for you? Will you still want to travel to the fields without me?”

Robert shrugged. “Probably. I mean, we’ll still need the money.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Henry said, his voice now tinged with sorrow. “But I’ll miss you.”

Robert’s chest tightened. Dammit, he’d miss Henry too. Including travel time, sometimes Robert would be away for twelve hours when working out in the valley. Except on weekends.

“I won’t be that far,” Robert said, trying to keep his voice even, though he couldn’t manage to prevent his own sadness from creeping in. “It’s only, what, fifty miles or so?”

“Dang, Robert, fifty miles . . .”

Robert winced. “I know. But we’ll have our nights together. Sundays, too.”

After a moment of hesitation, Henry managed a solemn nod. Robert reached up with his free hand to stroke Henry’s hair.

Threading his fingers through Henry’s locks, he said, “I’ll miss you too, little—”

Before Robert could finish his sentence, Henry caught his mouth in a passionate kiss. Robert chuckled through their kiss, and Henry laughed, too.

“Sorry,” Henry said when they parted. “I couldn’t help myself. I was imaginin’ what it’ll be like when we’re not workin’ together no more. I’ll miss you so much.”

“Ah, Hen, I know. But it’ll be better this way. We’re workin’ toward our future together, remember? I’ll find somethin’ in the city eventually.”

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