Page 10 of Resilience on Canvas

Rolling onto his side, Robert tried to think of something else.

But the only thing that managed to keep his thoughts from returning to Henry was recalling that huge, rolling cloud that had enveloped the whole town earlier that day.

Robert could only imagine how frightened his family had been without him.

With thoughts of the storm in Robert’s head, self-loathing returned in earnest, making his stomach roil.

He couldn’t believe such a huge storm had rolled through and he hadn’t even been there to protect the ones he loved.

What kind of sorry excuse for a provider was he?

Robert squeezed his eyes shut, but for the next hour, feelings of self-reproach continued to swirl in his head, pummeling his brain like clumps of topsoil and keeping him from falling asleep.

***

Hours later, Robert bolted upright, beads of sweat coating near every inch of his skin.

Even though the particulars of the nightmare that had woken him had mostly vanished the moment he’d startled awake, the fear he had been feeling lingered, sharp as ever, its blade still cutting through him like a knife.

Flashes of horrible things flickered in his mind—his family’s pitiful garden eaten by Hoover hogs, the children’s faces flushed from coughing, Clara thinner and meeker and smaller than ever, his whole family withering like crops in the unrelenting summer sun—and Robert’s breath shook as he tried to make them stop.

Trembling, he hopped out of bed and began to search for his tin of cigarettes in one of the old pairs of pants that lay strewn across the floor, taking care not to make too much noise while he tried to locate it.

After Robert found the tin, he fumbled for the lamp, lit it, and left for the porch. Luckily, the porch’s roof provided some protection from the lingering filth hovering in the sky. Dust or not, he needed some privacy. Even if it meant clogging up his lungs in every which way.

And, God , that first inhale of the cigarette, it burned so good.

Robert sat for a while puffing on it. He was lost in thought when he heard the door open behind him and quiet footsteps approach.

“Robert?”

It was Henry. Robert balanced the cigarette between his lips and scooted over, motioning for Henry to sit next to him. After a pause, Henry sat. Robert held out the tin.

“Want one?” he asked, his lit cigarette still perched on the edge of his mouth.

“No, thanks,” Henry said.

Henry Sherwood, cute little puppy that he was, hadn’t probably never even touched tobacco. Sweet, innocent bastard.

Robert’s chest clenched as that Goddamn fondness he was feeling returned with force.

Grimacing, he took one more inhale of his cigarette to try to burn the feeling away.

When Robert blew out the breath, he watched the smoke mix with the little brown snowflakes still hanging in the air as it left the confines of the porch.

He laughed a bitter laugh.

“Sometimes I wonder why I even try,” he said. “It feels like... like the end of times.”

He half expected Henry to blurt out some sort of platitude, but Henry only sat there silently. Robert took a couple more pulls of his cigarette, wishing he could somehow expel some of the hopelessness and lingering worry with each exhale. But the only thing that left him was smoke.

Groaning, Robert shut his eyes and hit the back of his head on the house a couple of times, relishing the way the knocking hurt, the pain providing him with something else to focus on.

Henry scooted closer. And Robert’s stomach tumbled some more.

Why, oh why, was he starting to like the puppy-man who had rejected his sister?

“I want to help you,” Henry said, his voice barely even a whisper. “Just tell me how.”

Robert snorted. Henry was only feeling bad for breaking his promise. And Robert wasn’t looking for Henry to make it up to him somehow.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m only being cynical ’cause I’m tired.”

“Robert, I know how much you care. I’ve seen how hard you work for everybody.” Henry tapped his index finger a couple of times on the floorboards. Softly, he mumbled, “‘Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”

Robert huffed a laugh.

“What, you think God will help me, Hen? Or Jesus?” Robert put his cigarette to his lips. “He’s the one who’s keepin’ the rain from us.” He chuckled and said, “Blasphemy, I know.”

“Oh, uhm, I meant me,” Henry said, his voice still small. “I was tryin’ to be funny.”

Robert sighed. So, Henry was funny. And, Christ, Robert was being a real son of a bitch to his funny friend right now, wasn’t he? He ought to fix that .

“Are you my savior, Hen?” Robert teased, turning his tone playful.

Henry smiled and shook his head. “Oh, I was only kiddin’.”

“I know. And I’m kiddin’ right back.” Robert kicked Henry’s foot. “But thank you for yer offer to help. And for the laugh.”

Henry nodded. After a moment, Henry turned to Robert, and the second they locked eyes, Robert’s heart fluttered.

He banged on his chest a couple of times with his fist, like maybe he could beat these infuriating feelings right out of himself.

But that only made Henry’s eyebrows turn up with what looked to be concern.

And then Robert’s stomach was rolling some more.

Lord Almighty.

Quickly, Robert took one more puff of his cigarette and then snuffed it out on one of the floorboards. “We better head back in before our lungs fill with the Devil’s snow,” he said.

With a happy-sounding hum, Henry said, “I like that name for it.”

Robert smiled a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

Once they reached the bedroom, Henry started back toward his bed, but Robert caught his sleeve like he had several times earlier that night.

Why couldn’t he seem to stop himself from doing that?

“I’m sorry I was a bastard,” he said.

“Don’t worry. I mean, I... uhm... I like it,” Henry said, to which Robert crooked an eyebrow. “I-I like it that you’re so intense, you know? I’m not intense myself, really, so it’s... interesting to me. Good interesting.”

Robert’s other eyebrow rose to meet its twin. Henry Sherwood thought he was interesting. Good interesting. Robert’s cheeks reddened. That wasn’t something most people would say to a friend, was it ?

“Right,” Robert said, his stomach somersaulting.

He knew that he ought to choose his next words carefully.

Or, well, probably he ought to change the subject.

But part of him... part of him wanted to know whether Henry had meant something by that.

He had to wonder how the man might respond if he received the same sort of compliment from Robert in return. “Well, I think yer interesting too.”

Henry bit his bottom lip in what must have been the most seductive way possible. Robert’s heart stuttered. Holding his breath, he waited for Henry’s reply.

After a couple more seconds, Henry said, “Good interesting?” His trembling voice was filled with something that sounded like... like hope.

Holy hell.

Fear seized Robert by the throat, a lifetime’s worth of shame slamming into him.

“No,” Robert said before pausing to swallow. He licked his lips. “Definitely not.”

Robert released Henry’s sleeve so forcefully, it sent Henry back a step.

And neither of them said one more Goddamn word as they climbed back into bed.