Page 21 of Resilience on Canvas

Chapter Eleven

Robert

Of course Robert’s Goddamn car wouldn’t start.

So, rather than drive, Robert and Henry were forced to walk into town together to find Clara and the kids.

While the sky was clearer than it had been for a while, there were still occasional bursts of wind that picked up flecks of topsoil, flinging the particles this way and that, sometimes violently enough that being hit with them felt like being poked with hundreds of tiny needles.

And these particles meant that there was a lot of static electricity, which could short out the cars, prevent them from starting.

At least, that was what Henry had told him.

Even with the little knowledge that Robert had about things like electricity, this seemed to make some sense. Smart man, that Henry Sherwood.

When they reached the center of town, they spotted Clara and the children in Bob Sherwood’s store, munching on some popcorn while they walked the aisles.

Well, Clara and May were walking like normal people.

Thomas and Peter were tossing pieces of popcorn into each other’s mouths every couple of steps.

May probably would have wanted in on the fun, too, only she was wearing a pair of shoes that were too small, and so, her feet were probably hurting too much to try to catch the popcorn like her brothers.

Even through the large store windows, Robert could see she and Clara were walking slower than snails.

Robert heaved a sigh. He needed it to be Friday so he could buy May a new pair of shoes.

Robert had been hoping to wait ’til the following month, when he had planned on traveling to one of the nearby bigger cities so he could sell his mother’s earrings first, but, well, thanks to that son of a bitch Raymond Davis who had sold them for booze, there weren’t no earrings to sell.

Robert would have to eat smaller portions of food for a little while so he could make up the money he’d be spending on the shoes instead.

As soon as Robert and Henry walked in the store, the twins ran to Robert wearing huge smiles.

Clara and May followed. Over the next few minutes, Robert listened to Thomas and Peter talk about the popcorn, both boys rambling on about how tasty it was and how it had been freshly popped, and then May chimed in to echo most of what they’d said.

May kept coughing while she talked, which was a little unsettling, though Robert tried to tell himself that it was only because she was talking so fast and because she had walked such a long way from school.

Thomas wanted to save some popcorn so they could have it with milk, which was a treat the family enjoyed from time to time, but Robert had a feeling that their two remaining cows probably weren’t producing milk no more.

Their babies had been sold off a while back, and there was barely enough food to keep them poor bovines upright.

Robert hadn’t even tried to milk them lately.

Maybe instead, he could try to convince Bob Sherwood to spare a bottle of the milk he had in the store refrigerator the following week.

And then Robert could purchase a couple of cents worth of popcorn as a surprise for everybody.

After the children had nearly talked Robert’s ear off, he was finally able to propose the plan for everyone to head over to Henry’s house.

Thankfully, Clara was fine with spending some time with the Sherwoods.

Since Henry’s family lived fairly close to the store, the walk wouldn’t be too bad either, even for May.

Fifteen minutes later, they reached Henry’s house. Henry asked that everyone stay outside while he explained the situation to his parents. It was only a short wait until Henry’s mother came out to the porch and welcomed everyone into her home.

The visit wasn’t immediately as awkward as Robert expected.

The children quickly settled in to play checkers in the front room while Henry’s father sat nearby, listening to music from the phonograph.

May’s coughing took a while to let up, but thank the Lord, it became better once she was busy whooping Peter’s butt in checkers.

Once Robert was feeling confident that the children were happy, he and Henry went into the kitchen to finish making the marmalade.

Clara was there cooking some stew with Henry’s mother.

Soon enough, supper was ready. Everyone congregated around the long dining table that the Sherwoods had in a room off of the kitchen.

Robert had sat there once before, back when he had come to propose his plan for Henry to marry Clara to Henry’s parents.

At the time, Robert had been brimming with optimism, confident that he was setting Clara up for a happy and secure future (while helping himself, too, since he would no longer be responsible for Clara’s meals and clothes and things).

Back then, seeing the fine cherry-brown table, which was nicer than every other piece of furniture Robert had ever seen in his life, had made Robert feel hopeful and happy.

But now, Robert was left feeling the exact opposite.

Because he knew that he had not only failed to find Clara someone to marry but he had failed everyone else in his family too.

Forget having a nice table. He couldn’t even find enough food for his family to eat .

While everyone enjoyed their stew, Robert sat stiffly and watched the little pieces of cooked vegetables float around in the broth.

Henry, who was next to him on the left, moved a cracker with marmalade into Robert’s line of sight, setting the plate next to Robert’s bowl.

“Don’t you want to taste the fruits of our labor?” he asked.

Robert shrugged. Henry inched it closer.

Reluctantly, Robert picked up the cracker and shoved it in his mouth, but even the sweetness of the marmalade couldn’t counter his bitter mood. Because everything was a Goddamn mess.

Just as Robert finally moved to take an actual bite of stew rather than just stirring the contents around in the bowl, Henry’s father stood, announcing that he would go find some real marmalade.

Mr. Sherwood disappeared into the kitchen, and Robert placed his spoon back in the bowl.

His stomach had started churning too violently for him to eat.

By the time Mr. Sherwood returned, declaring, “Alright, now it’s a proper meal!,” Robert’s sickening shame was swiftly turning to rage.

Why on God’s no-longer-green earth were some people struggling— really struggling—like Robert and his family, while other families—folks like the Sherwoods—were only facing minor inconveniences from time to time? Son of a bitch, it wasn’t fair .

Teeth clenched, Robert reached for the box of crackers. He hoped no one else would notice that his hand was trembling, fury rumbling beneath the surface of his skin.

Despite Robert’s efforts, Henry must have noticed.

He stood up and fetched the box of crackers, setting it between them, and then took out two of the little beige rectangles, one for himself and one for Robert.

When he handed one to Robert, their fingers brushed together, and his touch lingered a smidge too long .

And if Robert wasn’t mistaken, it had been intentional. Henry was trying to comfort him.

Want flickered to life inside Robert’s chest, its heat mixing with the lingering warmth of his fury and making Robert’s entire body burn.

With his free hand, Robert took hold of his own shirt collar to fan himself a couple of times, not yet certain which flame was burning brighter, the fire of desire that he felt toward Henry Sherwood or the fire of upset he felt over his failure to thrive in the Goddamn wasteland that was western Oklahoma.

Henry said to the table, “I, uhm, I think we might need to keep the cracker box over here. Ain’t nothing wrong with the stew, but Robert likes sweet stuff.”

“Me, too, Robert,” Henry’s father said, holding up the orange marmalade, which he then held out for Henry to take.

Robert clenched one hand into a fist.

Henry said, “Ah, no, I’m fine with the carrot one, thanks. I, uhm, I like it better than the orange stuff. It’s more interesting.” He bumped Robert’s foot with his own. “And I like things that are interesting.”

Robert relaxed his hand, Henry’s sweet sentiment washing over him like cool, nourishing rain. When Henry knocked his foot once more, Robert’s heart fluttered, and he had to purse his lips to keep himself from smiling, the fire of want within him now blazing hotter than the sun.

“Well, to each their own,” Mr. Sherwood said. After setting the marmalade back on the table, he took a bite of stew. “So,” he began before pausing to swallow, “how are you liking the store, Robert?”

“I like it fine,” he said slowly, still trying to contend with the fluttery, happy feelings in his chest. Henry really had saved him from his own upset, keeping him from saying something he’d have likely soon regretted.

Hopefully he could pay Henry back somehow.

Maybe first by letting Henry’s parents know what a Goddamn treasure their son was.

“Henry’s a fine teacher. Thorough. Smart as a whip, too.

He even taught me a math trick that I can use when ringin’ up the customers.

Saved my rear end.” He spread his legs a little beneath the table, touching his knee to Henry’s leg for a moment.

“I have to say, I was real impressed by him.” He nudged Henry’s leg once more, intentionally keeping contact this time. “I am real impressed by him.”

Henry stilled, his face turning crimson. Robert could feel the heat rising to his own cheeks, too. Never before had he flirted so brazenly. But never before had he liked a man this intensely, either. God help them both if even one other person in the room noticed.

Mr. Sherwood smacked the table half-heartedly, while Mrs. Sherwood clasped her hands together in front of her chest, smiling from ear to ear.