Page 81 of Resilience on Canvas

Clara went to fetch a rag to wipe up the spill, and Henry pushed himself to his feet to help but paused and then put a hand on Robert’s back instead.

“Only a little of the stew was lost, you know,” he said softly.

“Yeah, I know,” Robert said, still rubbing his head.

“Don’t be too mad at them. I think they’re losin’ their minds from boredom.”

Robert let his hands fall to his sides. “Yeah, I know that too.”

Henry nuzzled the side of Robert’s face with his nose. “I’ll eat a little less stew tonight. I’m still kinda full from breakfast.”

“God, Hen, yer such a terrible liar,” Robert said, leaning into Henry’s face cuddles.

Henry could tell by Robert’s tone of voice that he wasn’t so mad now.

“I know,” Henry replied with a light laugh. “But I’m still havin’ less stew.”

He turned to help Clara, who was practically finished cleaning. After they were done, Clara took three penny candies from one of the cabinets and handed them to Robert.

“What’s this?” Robert asked.

“I bought ’em for . . . emergencies.”

“‘Robert was a mean bastard’ emergencies?”

Clara tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sort of.”

Robert snorted. “I can’t blame you for it. Clearly.”

He heaved a sigh and then called the children back to the kitchen.

“I need you three to promise me that you won’t fight no more tonight,” he said.

Three mumbled, regretful sounding “okays” followed.

“Good enough.” Robert unfurled his hand, revealing the three pieces of candy.

Each of the kids snatched one, and then they took turns hugging him. Henry watched the way Robert squeezed tight to each of them, murmuring heartfelt apologies into their ears. Henry’s chest began to fill with a tingly warmth as he watched the scene unfold. Robert liked to think he was a mean bastard, but he wasn’t. He was simply a man who was bone-tired from carrying everyone and everything for so long.

When that thought entered Henry’s head, his chest tightened, the warm tenderness he’d been feeling transforming into hot shame instead. Because he wasn’t helping Robert like he had once promised to. He hadn’t yet managed to ease his man’s burdens. Not only had he failed to help Robert in the way he’d been wanting to, but he was preparing to make things worse. Earlier, Henry had made that promise to Clara, telling her he’d talk to Robert that evening. He’d have to tell Robert that he thought they’d have to let his parents purchase the train fare. Oh Lord, with how things were progressing, his parents would probably have to continue to help the Davis family once they reached California too. God, the weight of that—of taking the “charity” and failing to provide for his siblings his own self—Robert might be crushed by it.

Henry shut his eyes. He needed a minute to sit with the shame.

Once the children were seated, everyone bowed their heads in prayer, and even though Henry was supposed to be thanking the Lord for the bounty of Hoover stew and pickled fruit, instead he prayed that he could somehow help—truly help—the man he loved.

Not that he had managed to say that word to Robert yet. But he felt it. And even though Robert hadn’t said it to him, neither, he thought that maybe Robert loved him too.

***

In the evening, once the sun had set, Henry helped Clara put the children to bed while Robert cleaned up in the kitchen. After the twins were tucked in, Henry left to talk to Robert but realized that he wasn’t in the kitchen no more. He peeked his head into the other bedrooms, only to find Raymond’s haunted and still-slightly-pungent bedroom empty and Clara and May reading a story in the other room. Frowning, Henry went out onto the porch and finally found Robert there, smoking a cigarette.

“Hey, Hen,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Henry sat beside him on the rickety porch. After a moment, Robert sighed and held up his half-finished cigarette. “I know I said that I was finished with these.”

Henry chewed on his lip for a moment. “Can I have one?”

Robert took a puff and shook his head. “Nah, sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to waste money on a whole pack. I bought this one off of one of the customers today for a couple of cents. I knew I’d need it soon. Didn’t really think I’d be needin’ it within two hours of buyin’ the Goddamn thing, but”—he shrugged—“oh well.”

Wordlessly, Robert handed it to Henry. Henry wasn’t too keen on smoking, but he felt the need to share it with Robert right then. Henry brought it to his lips and inhaled. He coughed a bit while blowing out the smoke but thankfully didn’t make a fool of himself this time. Robert smiled sweetly as he took the cigaretteback, and the fondness in his brown eyes made Henry’s stomach tumble. Goodness, even in these somber moments, Robert could still make Henry feel like the luckiest man in the world.

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