Page 12 of Resilience on Canvas

“Someone better is right,” Robert huffed, still a little irritated, though he had laughed some of his earlier upset right out of himself, and so, he wasn’t really sounding as mad as he’d have liked to.

Henry not seeing himself with Clara made some sense. Clara was sweet, sure, but she was soft spoken and timid, too. And Henry seemed a lot like that himself. Couldn’t have two meek people marrying each other. Especially in these hard times.

Robert blew out a breath. Now what? Clara was too shy to meet someone else. And Robert couldn’t think of another man for her, neither. Not one who had a potentially promising future like Henry. Robert wasn’t looking to try to marry her off to some farmer who barely had a penny to his name. Robert supposed Clara would stay a Davis for now.

“Well, thanks for yer honesty, Henry,” Robert forced himself to say, though he couldn’t leave it like that since he couldn’t have Henry thinking everything was peachy, and so, he tacked on, “Sooner would have been better, though.”

“Yeah...” Henry rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.”

Robert pursed his lips. It reallydidseem like Henry was regretting the way things had turned out. Robert supposed there wasn’t no sense in staying mad. Anger had a way of eating a person up inside, feasting on their happiness ’til there wasn’t nothing left. And though Robert hadn’t felt happy too often lately, there were still moments of sunshine. Like when the twins were playing together without fighting and Clara was reading to May on the sofa and their pop wasn’t home. And so, Robert was free to sit in his favorite chair and pretend that everything wasn’t so Goddamn heavy.

He wanted to hold on to that. If he stayed sore at Henry, then maybe every time he’d see Clara tending to the kids, he’d be too busy being upset over the thought that she should have been tending to herownkids—kids she ought to have had with Henry—to enjoy those fleeting moments of bliss. It was best to let it go.

“Wanna head back?” Robert asked.

Henry only nodded.

The two began the long walk back to the store. Robert shoved his hands in his pockets. Henry copied. One of Robert’s hands found the rag he’d been using earlier, and he began rolling the fabric between his fingers. It may have been a little breezy thatmorning, with the wind kicking up puffs of useless powdery soil every once in a while, but it had turned out to be a pretty nice afternoon. Blue skies for miles.

Robert and Henry walked for a few more minutes in silence. At first, Robert enjoyed it. He liked listening to the faraway sounds of livestock and the rustling of the surviving patches of bluegrass moving in the breeze, one that was too soft to send plumes of powder into the sky. But then the silence started to gnaw at him. It wasn’t right to leave things with Henry this way.

“So...” Robert racked his brain to try to come up with something else they could talk about on the way back to town. “How’s workin’ for yer uncle?”

Henry startled a bit like Robert had yanked him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, uhm, fine, I suppose,” he said. “It’s easy enough.”

Robert nodded a few times, waiting for Henry to say something else. But Henry seemed to be too frazzled to expand on that.

“Plenty of penny candies to munch on, huh?” Robert tried.

“Yeah, maybe. I mean, I’m not much for candy, though,” he said, his cheeks reddening a little. “I like salty things? Potatuh pancakes and such?”

Funny how Henry’s voice was hitching up like that. Almost like he was requesting permission to like potato pancakes or something.

“Yeah, I like those, too,” Robert said. “Potatuh pancakes might even be my favorite meal. But I really am partial to sweets. Give me some chocolate or one of them honey bars, and I’m happy as a... as a...”

“Clam?”

Robert cocked one of his eyebrows. Was that the phrase he had been looking for?

“Ain’t that like a fish orsomethin’?” he asked.

Henry replied, “Kinda? I think they’re kind of like fish with shells?”

“Happy as a clam,” Robert repeated. “Are clams particularly happy?”

“Oh, uhm, I ain’t sure, actually. It’s a sayin’ I hear my mom use sometimes. I think my Gammy and Grandad might have taught it to her before they passed. They were from the coast. Somewhere near the ocean. I can’t remember which ocean, though, like if they were from California, maybe, or New York, or some other state? Sorry.”

“No need to say sorry. I was only wonderin’ why those fish were known for bein’ happy,” Robert said. He couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to live somewhere close to the ocean. He’d never seen that much water before. “I suppose the sayin’ makes sense, though. I like bein’ in the water a lot myself. When I was little, we went to swim in some of the lakes sometimes. Maybe I really would be happier if I was a fish.”

Henry huffed a soft laugh, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks.

It was a little endearing, the way Henry’s cheeks kept turning pink like that.

“Have you ever been to the ocean?” Robert asked.

“Nah. We barely ever leave Guymon now.”

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