Page 24 of Resilience on Canvas

“Henry, we have to tell you something,” his mother said. “I know you’ve probably come to think of Guymon as home over the last few years, but, well, with the bank that employed your father closing, and Panhandle Financial not hiring...”

“We have to move, son,” his father said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Henry’s stomach plummeted, and the lingering worry he’d been feeling increased tenfold. Disbelief and heartbreak slammed into him, forcing the air from his lungs. Eyes watering, Henry couldn’t even suck in a breath. They were moving?! Now?! Right when he and Robert...

No! He couldn’t leave. Not now.

“I . . . I . . .” Henry tried to protest, but the words stuck in his throat.

His father said, “Maybe if you’d have put down roots with Clara, we’d have stuck it out here in Guymon. I wouldn’t have wanted to be far from my future grandkids, after all. But with things how they are now, we have nothin’ keepin’ us here no more. ”

“W-where would we move? Back to Oklahoma City?” Henry choked out.

His mother reached over and covered one of his hands with hers.

“We were thinkin’ of California. Auntie Ellen and Uncle Herman live out there,” she said.

Henry’s father chimed in, “Herman says he might have found me a position with one of the banks out there. I won’t be a manager, but it’s still somethin’. It might take a little while to find a buyer for our house here, but we’ll be moving soon regardless, so long as I secure that position.”

Blinking back tears, Henry recoiled and pulled his hand away.

“I can’t leave Guymon!”

“Why?” his father said, shaking his head like he was utterly bewildered by the statement. “Ain’t like you’re makin’ a family here.”

“I have friends,” Henry said. “Joe and Rose and Clara and... and Robert.”

Henry’s voice cracked when he said Robert’s name, and blood rushed to his cheeks.

His father smiled a bemused smile. “You’ll make new friends.

Friends ain’t family. I’ve had my share of friends in my life, but you and your mother, now that’s my family.

” His expression softened. “Look, I know it’s tough to start over.

Most people here in Guymon have been livin’ here their whole lives.

And I wanted that for us. I wanted us to live out our lives here, to be part of the community, to raise our future grandchildren here.

But, well, we couldn’t have foreseen the problems this country’s been havin’. ”

“But we’ve barely even settled in here,” Henry said, scrambling to figure out how to convince them to stay.

“And... and I remember you wanted to leave the city because... because you said it was too busy. Won’t California be like that?

I’ve seen the newspapers with the photographs of the bread lines. How’s that better than Guymon?”

“Oh, Henry, we won’t be waitin’ in a bread line. Don’t worry.”

“But we can’t leave Guymon!” Henry protested.

He couldn’t lose Robert like this.

Henry’s mother sighed. “I’m sorry, Henry. I know you like it here. I know you like workin’ for Uncle Bob. But we’ll find something for you in California.”

“Hey, maybe we can look into college,” his father said. “You weren’t too interested in it back in Oklahoma City, but California—”

“No! I’m not interested in college!” Henry replied.

“Henry.” His father’s tone was stern, every trace of sympathy gone from his eyes. “Don’t be like this. You’re a man now. I’m sure you can see that there’s nothing left for us here.”

Desperation clawed up Henry’s throat, eliciting a small, pleading whine, one that sent even more color rushing to his cheeks. Gosh, he must have looked pathetic. But how could he leave Robert? He liked Robert so much. And the two of them were becoming something.

Right now, their relationship was like a fragile sapling, one that had barely had time to sprout, its roots thin and spindly, its leaves small and weak.

Given the chance, Henry knew that their relationship could blossom.

It could mature into something wonderful, something strong—resilient and striking, like the lovely marigolds that had once thrived in the soil here in Guymon.

But without care, Henry and Robert’s relationship wouldn’t never flower.

It would wither, their newfound closeness shriveling up and blowing away like the once-fertile topsoil of Oklahoma. And Henry wasn’t sure he could survive such a horrible thing .

Without saying one more word, Henry stood, his rough movement causing the chair to screech when he pushed himself from the table, and then he skulked off into the hall, the pleas of his parents a faint ringing in his ears.

If Henry could have forced himself to speak, he would have told his parents that he wasn’t coming with them. Not now. Not ever.

He refused to leave Robert behind.

***

Twenty minutes past eight the next morning, which, from Henry’s recollection, was supposed to have been the start of Robert’s shift at the store, Henry was rushing over to Sherwood’s Goods on foot, praying that Robert had shown up for work.

Henry had only waited the extra twenty or so minutes in hopes that he wouldn’t seem too needy when he showed up.

But, oh, he was still so worried that something horrible had kept Robert from meeting him the previous evening.

And now he was worried that soon, he wouldn’t have nowhere to live.

Because even though he still hadn’t communicated the finality of his choice to his parents, Henry knew in his heart that he couldn’t leave Guymon.

Lord Almighty, where was he supposed to stay?

Feet pounding the pavement, Henry rounded the corner, and the store came into view.

He slowed his pace to a walk and tried to catch his breath.

Even once he wasn’t panting no more, his lungs continued to burn.

Probably he ought to have worn a rag over his face.

At the very least, he shouldn’t have run the entire way.

After a few more painful inhales, the fiery sensation began to fade, and soon, Henry could breathe normally again.

When Henry reached the store, he took a pause before entering and said a silent prayer in his head. Dear Lord, let Robert be okay.

He pulled open the door and spotted Robert by the register, his normally unruly hair now completely wild, some of the curls hanging limp while others were practically sticking straight up.

As Henry approached, he could see that Robert’s shirt was the same one he had been wearing the last time they saw each other, the black-and-white-checkered fabric now rumpled.

He looked lost. Not only lost in thought, though he certainly looked that way, too, with his eyes unfocused and staring off into nothingness, but lost like he wasn’t even sure where he was or where he was supposed to be. Henry’s chest tightened.

Good God.

“Robert,” he said.

Robert seemed to come back to himself then, blinking several times.

And the moment the two of them locked eyes, Henry’s heart broke.

Because Robert’s beautiful brown eyes, they were no longer filled with that energy and fiery passion that Henry loved.

No, now, they looked empty, as though the light behind them had been snuffed out, leaving Robert a shell of himself.

“Hey, Hen,” he said, his voice raspy and raw.

Christ Almighty, something horrible had to have transpired.

“What happened?” Henry asked.

Robert pressed his lips together. It was like he was trying for a smile but couldn’t even force himself to fake it. He shrugged, pulling up both of his shoulders in a real exaggerated way, practically up to his ears, and tears sprang to his eyes.

Not caring one lick about politeness, Henry hoisted himself up right over the counter so that he could be closer to Robert as fast as possible.

When Henry’s feet touched the tile floor, he threw his arms around Robert, wrapping him up in a hug.

Robert buried his face in the crook of Henry’s neck.

Even though Robert made no sound, Henry knew he had started to cry.

Robert’s warm tears wet Henry’s neck. Emboldened by the need to comfort his friend, Henry reached up and moved a hand through Robert’s hair.

He couldn’t help but be surprised by the coarseness of it, which felt nothing like the silky smoothness of his own.

Though perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Robert’s rough and unruly hair suited him well.

What had happened to break such a marvel of a man?

Moving his fingers through Robert’s hair once more, Henry said, “Robert, tell me what happened. Was it... uhm... Clara said there was somethin’ wrong with yer pop?”

Robert sniffled. Lifting his head, he leaned back to meet Henry’s eyes. After sniffling once more, Robert let out a breath and said, “He passed. Yesterday. Around two.”

Robert’s words hung between them for one horrible, heavy moment.

“Gosh, I’m sorry, Robert,” Henry managed to say, empathy tugging on his heart while his stomach began to roil.

Why, oh why, had he thought such horrible things about Raymond?

How cruel he was to think that Robert might be better off without his father.

Clearly the loss was hurting him something fierce!

Pulling Robert in for one more embrace, he said, “I’m so, so sorry. ”

Robert hugged him back.

Time passed while they clung to each other. How long, Henry wasn’t certain. But each tick of the clock was reminding Henry of the enormity of the future ahead.

Knowing that they had to face it, to move forward somehow, Henry said, “I can’t imagine how terrible it must be to lose him. Gosh, the... the heartbreak of it.”

Robert took a breath and pushed Henry back some.