Page 132 of Resilience on Canvas

Clara’s eyes were wide and wild and filled with excitement, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“I think so,” she said. “And I think you’llreallyhave a chance this time. I caught the man hangin’ theserightwhen he had finished puttin’ this one up out in front of the bank. And I asked him how many he’d hung up so far, and he said only twelve or thereabouts. And I... well, I asked him not to hang no more because I knew the perfect person for this. He said he’d wait on hangin’ the rest ’til after he had his lunch. Luckily, they’re hirin’ more than one person too. Robert, Ireallythink you ought to try for this.”

“Holy Jesus,” Robert blurted out before whirling around. “Henry Goddamn Davis, we need to leave now! Right now!”

Henry strolled into the front room and took his bag from the floor.

“Good God, Robert, keep your pants on,” Henry said.

“Yer the one who took ’em off before,” Robert said with a snort, which elicited a giggle from Clara. He held the paper out for Henry to see. “I know we’ve tried for a bunch of these kinds of things over the last four or five months, but Clara said that she really thinks I have a chance with this one. What do you think, Hen? Mind if we rush over to that pier before we head to the beach?”

“Of course not.”

“Alright then, come on,” Robert said, taking Henry’s hand and pulling him out the door.

Robert turned to lock it while Henry pulled Clara in for a hug.

“Thank you for comin’ here,” he said.

“Oh, it’s nothin’. I told my boss why I needed to leave and”—she pulled back from the hug and pointed to a new Model T that was parked on the street—“he even let me borrow his car. Do y’all want a ride to the pier?”

“He won’t mind?” Robert asked, shoving the paper in his pocket. Clara shook her head. “Well, then, yes, we want one. I need to beat the other men to the punch.”

All three of them walked briskly to the car. Clara took a seat behind the wheel while Robert walked around to the front to help start it. Once the engine roared to life, Robert climbed in next to Henry, who was waiting in the middle of the long front seat. He took Henry’s hand and squeezed it.

“Say a prayer that they’ll hire me. Not that we need the money right now, but if this Goddamn economy has taught me anything, it’s that we can’t never save uptoo muchmoney. Besides, I miss workin’ sometimes. It’ll be good to feel useful again.”

Henry lifted Robert’s hand and kissed it. “I’ll say a prayer for you. But yer never not useful, Robert.”

“Yeah, I’ll prove that to you later,” Robert said with a wink.

Clara let out a loud gasp, whipping her head to face Robert with a look of feigned shock. Robert and Henry both cackled.

While Clara drove them to Pier 54, Robert took the paper out to study it some more.

“Whatisa longshoreman anyway?” he asked.

Henry replied, “Uhm, I think it’s someone who unloads cargo maybe?”

“Ah, well, I’m plenty strong enough for that.”

“Yeah, they’d be fools not to hire you,” Henry said, knocking Robert’s leg with his.

“Damn right they would be.”

It took Clara a few minutes to find a parking spot. Afterward, Robert hopped out of the car by himself, leaving Clara and Henry behind to chat, and hurried over to a building that said “Holt Corporation” and “Pier 54” in bold, red letters, the words painted right on the metal exterior. Men were filtering in and out of the place, which looked more like a big warehouse than a building where a company’s regular happenings might take place. Robert wondered if there were offices inside or if it was only a large open space filled with crates of cargo.

When Robert reached the building, he paused before going in so that he could calm his fast-racing heart with a few long breaths. He had to have his wits about him if he wanted to convince the owner to hire him. Or whoever it was he might soon be talking to.

After a few more steadying breaths, Robert continued into the Holt Corporation building. Inside, there were rows and rows of cargo, just as he had suspected, some of the skids piled high with wooden boxes, others with linen sacks, and workers were navigating between them, transporting things out of the warehouse-type building to the pier with hand trucks. In the far corner, there was what looked to be a small office. Either that or this wasn’t the right place to talk to someone with enough authority to hire him. Robert started walking toward it. He had to take his chances.

When he reached the closed door, he sucked in a long breath, held it for a few seconds, and knocked, exhaling while he waited for someone to come. Not ten seconds passed before the door opened. The man who answered wore a nice suit that contrasted with the less fancy clothing worn by the men working with the cargo.

“Good morning,” he said. “Can I help you with something?”

Robert took out the flyer and held it up for the man to see.

“Are you still hiring?” he asked, his voice tight with the hope he was trying to hold back.

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