Page 47 of Resilience on Canvas

After they thanked the Lord for their meal, the three of them started to eat. Popping a cube of Corn Flake-coated pork into his mouth, Henry only barely suppressed a moan. Gosh, this might be the only meal in the whole world he could eat right now.

Why had this mother thought to make it tonight?

Once Henry had cleared the food from his plate, his mother and father shared a look. Henry’s stomach dropped. His mother’s expression was both uneasy and perhaps a touch sorrowful—her brows upturned, chewing on her bottom lip—while his father was wearing a look he had often worn whenever he’d had to share bad news with bank customers—a false smile, his eyes large and only barely a hint of sympathy in them.

“Henry, we have to tell you something,” his mother said. “I know you’ve probably come to think of Guymon as home over the last few years, but, well, with the bank that employed your father closing, and Panhandle Financial not hiring...”

“We have to move, son,” his father said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Henry’s stomach plummeted, and the lingering worry he’d been feeling increased tenfold. Disbelief and heartbreak slammed into him, forcing the air from his lungs. Eyes watering, Henry couldn’t even suck in a breath. They were moving?!Now?!Right when he and Robert...

No! Hecouldn’tleave. Not now.

“I . . . I . . .” Henry tried to protest, but the words stuck in his throat.

His father said, “Maybe if you’d have put down roots with Clara, we’d have stuck it out here in Guymon. I wouldn’t have wanted to be far from my future grandkids, after all. But with things how they are now, we have nothin’ keepin’ us here no more.”

“W-where would we move? Back to Oklahoma City?” Henry choked out.

His mother reached over and covered one of his hands with hers.

“We were thinkin’ of California. Auntie Ellen and Uncle Herman live out there,” she said.

Henry’s father chimed in, “Herman says he might have found me a position with one of the banks out there. I won’t be a manager, but it’s still somethin’. It might take a little while to find a buyer for our house here, but we’ll be moving soon regardless, so long as I secure that position.”

Blinking back tears, Henry recoiled and pulled his hand away.

“Ican’tleave Guymon!”

“Why?” his father said, shaking his head like he was utterly bewildered by the statement. “Ain’t like you’re makin’ a family here.”

“I have friends,” Henry said. “Joe and Rose and Clara and... and Robert.”

Henry’s voice cracked when he said Robert’s name, and blood rushed to his cheeks.

His father smiled a bemused smile. “You’ll make new friends. Friends ain’t family. I’ve had my share of friends in my life, but you and your mother, nowthat’smy family.” His expression softened. “Look, I know it’s tough to start over. Most people here in Guymon have been livin’ here their whole lives. And I wanted that for us. I wanted us to live out our lives here, to be part of the community, to raise our future grandchildren here. But, well, we couldn’t have foreseen the problems this country’s been havin’.”

“But we’ve barely even settled in here,” Henry said, scrambling to figure out how to convince them to stay. “And... and I remember you wanted to leave the city because... because you said it was too busy. Won’t California be like that? I’ve seen the newspaperswith the photographs of the bread lines. How’s that better than Guymon?”

“Oh, Henry, we won’t be waitin’ in a bread line. Don’t worry.”

“But wecan’tleave Guymon!” Henry protested.

He couldn’t lose Robert like this.

Henry’s mother sighed. “I’m sorry, Henry. I know you like it here. I know you like workin’ for Uncle Bob. But we’ll find something for you in California.”

“Hey, maybe we can look into college,” his father said. “You weren’t too interested in it back in Oklahoma City, but California—”

“No! I’m not interested in college!” Henry replied.

“Henry.” His father’s tone was stern, every trace of sympathy gone from his eyes. “Don’t be like this. You’re a man now. I’m sure you can see that there’s nothing left for us here.”

Desperation clawed up Henry’s throat, eliciting a small, pleading whine, one that sent even more color rushing to his cheeks. Gosh, he must have looked pathetic. But how could he leave Robert? He liked Robert so much. And the two of them were becoming something.

Right now, their relationship was like a fragile sapling, one that had barely had time to sprout, its roots thin and spindly, its leaves small and weak. Given the chance, Henryknewthat their relationship could blossom. It could mature into something wonderful, something strong—resilient and striking, like the lovely marigolds that had once thrived in the soil here in Guymon.

But without care, Henry and Robert’s relationship wouldn’t never flower.

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