Page 18 of Resilience on Canvas

“Yeah, sure.” Robert cracked his knuckles. “What’s first?”

“Alright, well, first we need to have you press one of those buttons on the left. They’re the, uhm, the clerk buttons.

I think they’re probably more useful in larger stores.

Like when there’s a bunch of folks who might be workin’ the register over the course of a few hours?

But it won’t work unless we press one so, uhm, I press the ‘H’ button because of my name and Uncle Bob, he chose ‘B.’ Maybe ‘D’ can be yer button? Because of yer name? Davis? ”

“Yeah, that’s fine, Hen,” Robert said, pressing his finger to the little white key.

“Next press the charge button,” Henry instructed, and Robert pressed one of the red ones. “And now, punch in the total.”

Robert’s hand hovered over the keys, and his eyes flitted to the items on the counter. Henry realized from Robert’s hesitation that he hadn’t memorized the prices yet.

Henry said, “So, ten cents for each cereal box, eight cents for the bread, twenty-three cents for the peanut butter, and five cents for each can of corn.”

Robert cleared his throat. He reached for one of the cans, touching his fingers to the metal and tapping it twice.

“Five . . . plus . . . five . . . plus . . .” He tapped the paper-wrapped bread. “Twenty-two.”

“Twenty-three,” Henry corrected hesitantly. “Sorry.”

“Right.” Robert’s eyebrows knitted together. “Five plus five plus twenty-three...”

He paused.

“Makes, uhm, thirty-three,” Henry said.

“Yeah, yeah, thirty-three . . . plus ten . . . so . . . for—forty-three . . . and ten makes fifty-three . . .”

Mr. Miller let out an exasperated sigh, and Henry winced. Oh, Lord. Please let Robert finish totaling the rest.

Robert closed his eyes. “And eight more...” He began counting on his fingers. “Fifty-four, fifty-five—”

“Sixty-one cents,” Mr. Miller finished for him.

Robert’s eyes flew open, and his nostrils flared. “Now I have to start over!”

Tentatively, Henry shuffled to the right, crowding Robert’s space and forcing him to move over, and then he tapped the total in himself. Robert held up a hand .

“Now, wait, Hen, what if he’s cheatin’ us? He wouldn’t even let me finish countin’!”

“No, I—I know it’s right. Sixty-one cents—that’s correct.”

Mr. Miller smirked, and Henry couldn’t miss the way Robert’s hand twitched.

Robert opened and closed his fist a few times, letting out a long breath, and Henry finished the rest of the transaction himself, pulling the little lever, taking the change from Mr. Miller, and putting everything in a cloth bag.

Neither of them spoke while Mr. Miller walked back toward the entrance, but the moment the entryway bell rang, Robert smacked the counter half-heartedly.

“Goddamn son-of-a-bitch Benjamin Miller! Of course he knew the total! He probably buys the same Goddamn things every month! And why’d you let him talk to you like that? Does he think that because he’s, what, seventy, that he’s excused from common courtesy? Where are the man’s manners?”

Affection bloomed in Henry’s chest. Why Robert’s temper was so endearing, Henry couldn’t say, but holy heck, he liked it. Especially when Robert wasn’t mad at him .

“You won’t have to see him for a while, if that helps,” Henry said with a shrug. “He typically sends his wife. Ann, I think? Mr. Miller only comes once every month or so.”

Robert frowned. “How did you know the total?” he asked. “Did you really add them numbers that fast?”

“Yeah. But I’ve had a lot of practice, workin’ here.”

“Nah, I bet you were one of the smart kids in school, huh?”

Blood rushed to Henry’s cheeks and his eyes fell to his shoes.

“Maybe,” he said before chewing on his bottom lip. “I can teach you a trick, though?” Face still on fire, he peered up at Robert through his lashes. “If you want.”

“Anything to keep me from embarrassing myself like that,” Robert said.

“I mean, I’m sure I’d become faster without the trick or whatever it is you want to show me.

I’m not stupid. I may not have been the smartest kid in school, but I passed my tests.

” Henry opened his mouth to say that he knew Robert was plenty smart, but Robert kept going.

“I keep track of our expenses and such. It takes me some time, but I manage. I have to relearn how to figure out the math in my head, is all.”

“No, Robert, I-I know,” Henry said. “I know how smart you are. Running that whole farm of yers takes smarts. It must have been even harder when we had more crops. Keepin’ track of the—the types of vegetables and fruits you were growin’ and when you planted them.

I’m sure it took a lot of, uhm, of mental effort.

All I can manage is to count up some cans of food. ”

Robert pursed his lips. It seemed like he was chewing on Henry’s words for a moment.

Finally, he smiled back and said, “Thanks, Hen. So, what’s the trick?”

“Well, when you have a number that’s not a five or a ten, I try to round to the nearest whole.

So, twelve cents becomes ten. And then I tack on the two more later.

Five cents plus twelve cents becomes five cents plus ten cents, which is easier.

Fifteen, right? And then two more makes seventeen. See?”

“Kind of?”

“We can try that next time someone comes in. And most people, they’re nicer than Mr. Miller. He’s—”

“—a bastard.”

Henry snorted. “Yeah, he’s a mean bastard.”

“A mean old bastard,” Robert corrected, tipping his head a little, as though to urge Henry to confirm.

“The meanest, oldest bastard in the entirety of Guymon,” Henry said with confidence, which made Robert chuckle.

Oh, what a lovely sound that was. “And you handled him fine. I’d have let him take the cereal for five cents, probably.

Sometimes I push back, but if he’s persistent enough, I can’t make myself be so stern. Not like you were.”

“Well, that I have a trick for.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, come here,” Robert said, taking Henry by the collar and pulling him close.

“Ready to hear it?” His face was close enough for Henry to feel the little puffs of warmth on his cheek from each of Robert’s exhales.

Henry swallowed hard and nodded, though he wasn’t sure if he really was ready to listen to whatever Robert might have to say.

Mostly, he was ready to faint. Robert’s lips were right next to Henry’s ear when he whispered, “Grow a backbone.”

And then Robert burst out laughing. Heat rushed to Henry’s cheeks, but he couldn’t help snorting a laugh himself.

When they both stopped laughing, Henry tried to wrestle his shirt from Robert’s hand, but Robert wasn’t letting up.

Even though Robert’s face was no longer right next to Henry’s, he was still holding tight to Henry’s collar.

“Robert,” Henry whined. “Let go.”

“Come on, Hen,” Robert said with an impish smile. “I know how strong you are. I saw you lifting them flour sacks earlier. I want you to make me let go.”

Henry’s heart stuttered, a whole heap of want striking him in the chest. He tried to ignore the rush of it, and he took Robert’s hand in his to try to pry his fingers loose. Oh, Lord, the roughness of Robert’s skin felt so Goddamn nice.

“Ah, see, I knew you had a fire in you,” Robert said as his hand broke free from Henry’s shirt.

Still, Robert wouldn’t release Henry’s hand.

Instead, he started trying to twist it, rotating Henry’s wrist. Henry had no choice but to keep fighting back.

Not unless he wanted his wrist broken. Letting out a grunt, Henry reached up to try to free his trapped hand with his other one, but Robert caught that hand, too, and then they were pushing both of their hands together, their fingers intertwined.

It was the strangest fight Henry had ever been in.

It also happened to be the only fight he’d ever been in.

Before Henry knew what was happening, Robert started shoving him back, their hands still locked together, and Henry had to throw his weight forward to try to counter it.

With a little cry, Henry shoved Robert back and pinned him to the wall.

They stared at each other for a few moments, both of them breathing hard.

“I think we found yer backbone,” Robert finally said with the biggest, most infuriating grin.

Henry’s stomach somersaulted. He couldn’t manage to make himself release Robert’s hands. And Robert was still holding on tight himself. They stayed there for a few more seconds, their chests heaving, faces flushed, staring into each other’s eyes.

Finally, Robert wet his lips and said, “I’m finished learning how to run the store, huh?”

In a small voice, Henry rasped, “Just about.”

“Hmm...” Robert narrowed his eyes as though thinking this over. “Ain’t that a shame. ’Cause I wanted to spend more time with you. Maybe there’s somethin’ I can teach you instead, though. Soon.”

Henry’s heart slammed into his rib cage. “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. I can teach you how to make that carrot marmalade,” Robert replied, squeezing Henry’s hands a bit harder. “I seem to remember you likin’ it. Did I have that right?”

Jesus Christ Almighty. What in the hell was Robert trying to say? Was he trying to confirm that Henry had liked the marmalade or... or something else ? Either way, Henry’s answer was the same.

“Yeah, I-I liked it,” he said. “More than I... more than I should have.”

“Well, then, when’s the next time yer free?”

“Wednesday?”

Robert smirked. “Are you askin’ me? Or tellin’ me?”

“I’m... I’m tellin’ you,” Henry said, his voice trembling the tiniest bit.

“After this shift, I won’t be workin’ ’til Friday, so how about you come to my house on Wednesday, and I’ll teach you how to make carrot marmalade. Would you like that?”

“Very much,” Henry said with a small, tentative smile.

Robert’s smile broadened. “Alright. Wednesday, then.” His eyes flickered over to their joined hands, and he snorted. “You can let go now. I won’t hurt you.”

Henry let out a breath as he released Robert’s hands, and then he took a step back. Chuckling, Robert rubbed his wrists.

“Do you want me to stay for a bit longer?” Henry asked.

“Yeah. Just for one more customer. I want to make sure I know how to use that register right.”

Henry nodded.

Later that evening, when Henry was finally home, he was too tired and confused to even begin to try to figure out the meaning behind what had happened between him and Robert in the store. All night, Henry’s mind wandered, his thoughts muddled with confusion, slow and sweet and strange.

Like carrot marmalade.