Page 133 of Resilience on Canvas

“I am. Are you looking for work?”

“Yes, sir,” Robert replied.

After a moment, the man tilted his head. “Where are you from?”

Robert’s stomach seized. Goddamn son of a bitch, if this man rejected him because he had come from Oklahoma...

“Oklahoma, sir. I moved here from a little town called Guymon. Came to San Francisco to escape the storms we have out there.” He paused to swallow his fast-rising nervousness. “Back in Oklahoma, I was a farmer. I spent some time workin’ as a shop clerk as well. I know in my heart that I’d be a fine long-shore-man.” Robert’s cheeks flushed as he said the last word. It still felt funny on his tongue. He hadn’t never even heard of one before reading that flyer. “I’m a hard worker. Strong, too. And I hope you will consider hirin’ me.”

Robert’s plea hung in the air for four or five seconds—some of the longest seconds of Robert’s life—and then the man held out his hand.

“George Holt.”

“Robert Davis,” Robert said, grasping the man’s hand to shake it.

“Can you work thirty hours a week?”

“Gladly.”

George’s lips curled into a smile. He let go of Robert’s hand and retreated into his office, motioning for Robert to follow.

“Come in. We’ll talk specifics.”

Robert sucked in a breath, his chest expanding from a sudden fierce swell of hope. Lord Almighty, had he finally found work? After over ayearof searching? Thunderstruck, Robert followed George Holt into the office and reminded himself not to cry.

***

Thirty minutes later, Robert was sprinting back toward the car wearing a smile so Goddamned wide his whole fucking face was hurting. Holy hell, George Holt had hired him! Starting the following Monday, Robert would be a longshoreman. God, he’d never thought he could feel so happy to know he’d be spending thirty hours every week moving a bunch of crap from place to place, but here he was. Good Lord.

“Hen! Clara!” he cried out as he neared the car. Henry immediately threw open the door. “I got it! I got the job! I’m a Goddamn long-shore-man now!”

“Oh my God, that’s incredible!” Henry exclaimed as his eyes flew wide, a smile bursting to life on his face.

Robert and Henry collided in what had to have been one of the best, most enthusiastic hugs that Robert had ever received. It took a whole hell of a lot of strength to keep from pulling Henry into a kiss too. God, would Robert make up for their forced modesty that evening.

“I’m so proud of you, Robert,” Henry said, leaning back so that he lifted Robert’s feet off the pavement. “So, so proud.”

“Thank you,” Robert said as Henry set him back on the ground.

And the moment Henry released him, Robert turned and scooped Clara up in a hug.

“I had a good feelin’ about this one,” she said next to his ear. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you, Clara,” Robert said, squeezing her tight before letting go. “For everything.”

Still standing there next to the car, Robert told both of them everything about the job. He’d be working thirty hours every week, sometimes Mondays to Fridays and other times Tuesdays to Saturdays, making ninety-five cents an hour. He’d have time off for vacations and for religious holidays, both.And, best of all, George Holt had agreed to hire Joe, too, as long as Joe came by within the next day and George liked him okay. Which he would. Robert was sure of it. God, how perfect it was!

After Robert was finished telling Henry and Clara about the job, Clara took the two men to the beach before leaving for work. On the beach, as Robert settled on the sand next to Henry, a pang of wistful sadness struck him in the chest. Soon, the two of them wouldn’t be spending practically every waking moment together no more. Sure, they’d still see each other plenty,but Robert would miss being Henry’s househusband, even if the idleness had been hard sometimes.

Over the next two hours, Robert listened to the waves crashing nearby while watching Henry paint. When the ocean receded and low tide began, Robert pushed himself to stand and kicked off his shoes. After removing his socks, he walked toward the water, pausing when he reached the wet sand. He spent some time poking holes in it with his big toe, relishing both the feel of the sand on his feet and the scent of the salty sea. Moving closer to the water, Robert continued playing with the sand but stopped when he sawa small stream of water shoot up from beneath the surface. He knelt to inspect it, wondering if there was something living there. Carefully, Robert plunged his fingers into the sand near the tiny hole from where the water had come. When his fingers brushed something hard, his first instinct was to recoil, but he soon realized it was a shell.

“Hey, Hen!” he yelled. “Come over here!”

Henry hurried over as Robert shoved his hand back into the sand. Sure enough, the shell was still there. Digging below it, Robert turned his hand to scoop upward as soon as Henry reached him.

Henry settled beside him. “What is it?”

Robert lifted his hand. Along with the mound of sand he had scooped up, there was a creature with a pinkish-white shell.

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