Page 14 of Resilience on Canvas

Robert smacked the counter once more. “Quit it! Don’t—” He cut himself off with a breath.

Goddammit, he was making everything worse, wasn’t he?

Robert needed Henry to know how sorry he was.

He needed Henry to know that he’d been wrong for yelling.

Most of all, Robert needed Henry to take the peace offering.

Robert snatched up one of the pancakes and thrust it toward Henry’s chest. “I made these pancakes for you because you said you like ’em.

And because I was a mean son of a bitch this mornin’.

Now, I want you to take this pancake and eat it.

Because you are owed this pancake. Do you understand me? ”

“I think so?” Henry reached out for the pancake but hesitated, his hand hovering a couple of inches from the little yellow disc.

Robert clenched his teeth.

“Henry Sherwood, you have two seconds before I ram this pancake down yer throat.”

Henry’s eyes widened. He snatched the pancake and shoved the entire thing in his mouth.

Robert sputtered a laugh, and Henry shielded his mouth with one of his hands and started laughing, too.

“We’re still friends, then?” Robert asked after a moment.

Chewing slowly, Henry nodded. He was smiling so big that even though Robert couldn’t see Henry’s mouth from behind his hand, he could still tell. Because Henry’s eyes were smiling.

Robert reached into his pocket for the marmalade.

“I brought this, too. Even though I know you said you weren’t too keen on the sweet stuff.” Robert popped the lid and picked up a pancake. “But I am, and I’m hungry.”

Henry swallowed and said, “I, uhm, I thought you said these were my pancakes.”

For the briefest moment, Robert thought that maybe Henry was serious, but then he saw that Henry was still smiling like a fool.

Robert snorted and said, “Well, we’re friends, right? And friends share so...” Robert ripped the pancake in two and plunged one half into the marmalade. He popped it in his mouth and said, “Thanks for the pancake.”

Henry chuckled and picked up another one. He nodded toward the marmalade. “Mind if I try some? ”

“Ain’t you never had marmalade before?”

“Of course I have,” he said, pulling off a piece of the pancake. “Just not the carrot kind.”

“Ah, I see. It’s because yer a Sherwood. Y’all are too fancy for this stuff, right?”

Henry ignored Robert’s jab. Instead, he tried the marmalade and hummed.

“I like it,” he said, his mouth still full.

After Henry swallowed, he proceeded to suck the leftover marmalade right off of his fingers.

Robert smiled. It was nice not to fret ’bout manners.

Robert had thought that maybe Henry would be the type to complain that there weren’t no utensils, but here the man was, eating with his hands and licking his fingers clean.

Guess his family wasn’t that fancy. Just not as close to starving as everybody else.

“I like it better than the store-bought crap,” Robert said.

Henry went back for more marmalade. “Yeah, this one’s more interesting.”

Robert’s face caught fire. Interesting. There was that word again. And Robert couldn’t let it lie this time. Leaning his elbows on the table, Robert looked up at Henry through his lashes.

“Guess you tend to like interesting things,” he said, his tone slightly flirtatious, though his voice was trembling from having been so bold.

Henry’s cheeks reddened. He nodded once.

Robert’s stomach fluttered, excited and nervous energy flying through his veins. It was like Henry had knocked over the hornet’s nest inside of him and now every inch of his body was buzzing some more. He looked away.

After a breath, Robert reached for a pancake, still not lifting his eyes to see Henry’s face.

Henry took one, too, and they ate together in silence, both of them taking turns with the marmalade.

While Robert continued to eat, the same two words kept repeating in his head.

Good interesting. Son of a bitch. What had Henry meant by that?

It seemed like there was something between them.

And Robert wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet.

Hell, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready for it. But, oh, he wanted to be.

Gathering his courage, Robert forced himself to look up.

Robert’s breath caught. Henry was munching on a pancake, and there was marmalade smeared on his cheek. Just one swipe of it, stemming from the corner of his lip. He looked so Goddamn cute.

“Hen, you, uh, there’s some...” Robert tapped his own cheek with his index finger.

“Oh.” Henry wiped some of it off with his wrist, but there was still a little sticky spot near his cheekbone. How in the world had he even managed to smear it up that high? “Gone?”

Robert snorted. “No.”

It would be so easy for Robert to just... wipe it away.

Heart hammering, Robert rubbed his hand on his pant leg and then reached toward Henry’s face.

When Robert’s fingers neared Henry’s cheek, the world around them seemed to warp and change, the edges of reality fading as time slowed.

With a shaky hand, Robert touched his thumb to Henry’s cheek, each beat of his heart so loud, he couldn’t hear nothing else except the thump-thump-thump of it in his ears.

And then, he wiped Henry’s skin clean. All the while, Henry’s eyes were boring into him, though the poor puppy never moved a muscle otherwise.

Robert brought his thumb to his lips. Running his tongue over the sticky marmalade, he let out a soft sigh.

Never before had he tasted something so sweet.

Henry let out a little sound, something between a moan and a whine.

“Robert . . .” he said, his voice small .

Robert’s heart continued to pound wildly, though everything else in the room stayed hazy and unfocused.

And then the bell hanging above the entryway rang.

Robert froze.

“G-good evenin’, Mr. Thompson,” Henry choked out, somehow managing to step away from Robert. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Thompson replied. “I need to buy me some flour.”

Robert stayed rigid. Over the next few minutes, Henry helped Mr. Thompson purchase what he needed.

Meanwhile, Robert couldn’t even make himself move.

He couldn’t stop imagining what might happen if he and Henry were to ever start something with each other only for them to be found out.

Maybe people wouldn’t buy carrots from the Davis family no more.

Maybe Robert would never have the chance to work in the store.

Worse, what if Robert’s sorry excuse for a father ever found out?

Robert would be out on his rear end. And he couldn’t never protect the children then.

Couldn’t take care of them. Couldn’t feed them.

Couldn’t shield them from the wrath of Raymond Davis.

No. Robert couldn’t never let that happen. Even if Henry liked men the way that Robert liked men. Even if Henry liked him that way. Him and Henry, they could only ever be friends.

Dammit, what had he done?

Henry came back to the counter as the entry bell rang, signaling that Mr. Thompson had left. He rested his forearms on the counter and said, “Hey, Robert, I’m sorry for the, uhm, the interruption. I hope yer not upset or nothing. I mean—”

Robert cut him off with a clearing of his throat. “I’m fine, Hen.” He forced a crooked smile. “But it’s late. I need to take my car back now.”

Furrowing his brow, Henry tilted his head as though he was befuddled by this .

Or, more likely, by the change in Robert’s behavior.

“Look, we’re friends,” Robert said. “And that’s... it.”

“Oh.” Henry’s mouth became a hard line, though his eyes went as wide as saucers. “Right. I—I know. I never thought there was nothin’... more.”

“Good.” Robert pounded his fist on the counter. “Enjoy the rest of them pancakes.”

After refitting himself with the mask, Robert left to find his car, hating himself more with every step he took. Because each one of them was bringing him farther from where he really wanted to be.