Page 41 of Resilience on Canvas

Before Henry could open his eyes, Robert was wrapping him up in a hug. Henry melted into it, resting his weight on Robert while wishing he had the strength to stand on his own.

“Why’re you sorry, little wolf?” Robert whispered into his ear. “Ain’t yer fault that my car’s a piece of crap. Ain’t yer fault that my pop was such a bastard, neither. Or that the land we live on is blowin’ away. None of it is yer fault, Hen.”

“I can’t think of no way to fix things, though.

Remember when we were sittin’ on yer porch together and I promised that I would help you?

Well, I haven’t been helpin’. Gosh, the only thing I’ve even tried was enterin’ that contest. And I lost .

” He let out another sob. “I lost , Robert, and I can’t come up with nothin’ else.

I feel like we’re losin’ our future together.

And I was so excited for it. I was so Goddamn excited to start a new life with you. ”

Both of them were silent for a moment, save for Henry’s soft whimpers and cries, and then Robert let out a long breath.

“Oh, we’re not losin’ that,” Robert whispered.

“We’ll think of somethin’.” He planted a kiss on Henry’s head near his temple.

“I shouldn’t have come in here rantin’ like that, making it seem like everything was hopeless.

I was mad, but I never meant to... to make you think I wasn’t takin’ care of things.

We’ll make it to California. I know we will. ”

“How?”

Robert stayed quiet. The silence pressed harder on Henry’s chest, coaxing more tears from his eyes. Robert threaded his fingers through Henry’s hair and then took a fistful of it. Gently, he pushed back, forcing Henry to look up at him.

“Just give me some time,” he said. “I’ll buy us those train tickets. I promise.”

Henry nodded once and tried to blink the remaining tears from his eyes.

And even though those last two words kept echoing in his ears, Henry found that he was too scared to believe them. I promise. Those words, they rang hollow.

***

While Henry stirred the pot of simmering Hoover stew and watched the pasta boil in a second pot, Clara scooped a helping of pickled berries into one of the serving bowls.

Once the pot of pasta was finished cooking, Henry shut off the heat for that burner so he could strain it. Clara took over stirring the other pot.

“Thanks for yer help tonight, Henry,” she said .

“Well, the car still won’t start, no matter how much me and Robert try to tinker with it.” He poured the macaroni into the stew pot. “I know I said I would work on it some more today, but it feels pretty pointless. I think we ought to throw in the towel.”

Clara hummed to herself as her brow creased with worry, and Henry’s throat tightened.

Even though he knew he should say something to comfort her, he couldn’t muster the will.

Over the last week, he had been parroting Robert’s heartening words, but lately it seemed like every time Robert said them, even he was losing some of his conviction.

Because no matter which way they looked at things, they were running out of time.

Ever since Robert had burst into the store like a furious storm, ranting about the car not starting, he had been working hard to keep himself from showing his upset over the hopelessness of their situation.

But Henry still knew. He could see it in the way Robert’s muscles tensed whenever the kids bought up the move out west. He could hear it in Robert’s voice, which more often than not was weary and strained and filled with sorrow.

He could smell it on Robert’s skin in the nighttime when whatever nightmares he was having were making him sweat.

And last but not least, he could feel it.

Henry and Robert were so connected that it was as though Henry could feel Robert’s hope withering away. Now Henry’s was, too.

With a small sigh, Clara turned off the stove and went to take the bowls out of the cupboard.

Henry fetched the spoons. Afterward, they set the table in silence, the only sound the occasional clinking of the porcelain and the children bickering in one of the bedrooms. School had been closed for too long now, leaving the children to run amok, and it had been made worse by the fact that Clara was too nervous to let them roam outside for long or stray too far, lest there be a black blizzard, especially one as large as the one that had killed Raymond Davis.

Keeping the children cooped up was making everyone crazy.

Setting the final spoon on the table, Henry said a silent prayer that they could somehow leave for California soon. Otherwise...

Clara must have read Henry’s mind. She turned to him, still clutching the final bowl in both of her hands, and said, “Hen, I think it’s time to talk to Robert.”

Unease curdled in Henry’s stomach. “Yeah, I know,” he said.

Good God.

“We need to come up with a plan,” she said, setting the bowl on the table. When she straightened up, she began twirling one of her locks of hair between her fingers. “I’ve been beside myself with worry. Lord, I can hardly even sleep. I keep wonderin’... well...”

“You keep wonderin’ where we’ll live,” Henry finished for her.

In a small voice, Clara said, “Does Robert still think he’ll find a buyer for the tractor?”

“Yeah,” Henry said, even though it wasn’t the truth. He couldn’t bear to tell her how hopeless everything seemed right now. “Uhm, me too. I think so too.”

“Really?”

“Well...” Dang, it was somehow even harder to repeat the lie than it had been to say it in the first place. “Maybe. I mean, no one’ll buy the car, but I think it’s possible to find someone who’ll buy the tractor. If we offer it for cheap enough, that is.”

“But if we can’t find nobody?”

Hit with a pang of worry, Henry tensed, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass.

If they couldn’t sell the tractor, they’d have to talk to Henry’s parents.

Take them up on their offer. But Henry’s folks were scheduled to leave by the end of the week.

Earlier that month, they had packed up everything they wanted to keep, and yesterday, one of those real large moving trucks had come to take their things to California, where they had a house waiting for them.

It was in a city called San Francisco. All they had left were a couple of suitcases and their car.

Henry only had a little time left to convince Robert to let his folks purchase the tickets. Probably they could even stay with Henry’s family for a while in California. Although...

While we couldn’t never support whatever this is...

Henry wasn’t sure what “together” could look like for him and Robert, then.

The sound of boots on the porch made the knot in Henry’s stomach swell, pushing up some bile in his throat. Swallowing hard, he turned to Clara and forced a nod.

“I’ll talk to him,” he said. “After supper.”

Some of the tension left Clara’s face, the worry lines on her forehead easing the tiniest bit.

“Thank you,” she mouthed just as Robert came in.

“Did’ya manage to get the car to start?” Robert asked before banging off the brown powder from his boots by knocking the edge of his heel on the wall a few times.

“Uhm, no. I helped Clara cook instead of tryin’,” Henry said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Ah, that’s fine, Hen. It was a piece of crap even before it stopped workin’.

I shouldn’t have even suggested that either of us try to fix it.

” Robert crossed the room and pulled Henry in for a hug.

He kissed Henry’s cheek. “Don’t feel bad for helpin’ Clara rather than wastin’ yer time tinkerin’ with that thing. ”

“Thanks, Robert.” Henry squeezed Robert tight and kissed his cheek in return. Neither of them felt right kissing properly in front of Clara yet, and especially not in front of the little ones, but Jesus was it hard not to sometimes. “How was work?”

Robert released Henry from the embrace. “It was fine. Nothin’ new. I’ll miss it, though. Only one more shift left before someone else takes over. ”

“I’ll miss it too. I couldn’t not miss the place where we kinda became... us.”

“Where I practically licked marmalade off of yer face, you mean?”

“Right,” Henry said with a chuckle.

Clara cut in. “It’s time to eat. No marmalade lickin’ permitted, though.”

“Ah, shucks,” Henry teased as he made his way to the table.

Robert nudged him. “I’m sure I could find somethin’ else to lick off you if you want.”

Henry stopped short of pulling out his chair, his mouth falling open in shock. “Goodness, Robert! Clara’s right here!”

Clara covered her mouth in an obvious attempt to try to contain her laughter. After her shoulders stopped shaking, she pointed a finger at Robert as he sat and said, “Don’t be makin’ those kinds of comments in front of the children.”

Robert held up his hands innocently, and Clara only shook her head. She turned to fetch the pot of stew from the stove and called out to the kids to tell them that it was time to eat.

When May and Peter came into the kitchen, they were fighting. Peter was clearly hiding something in one of his closed fists, and May was slapping him on the back as she followed. Thomas trailed behind farther, cackling to himself.

With a roll of his eyes, Robert said, “What the hell are you two fighting ’bout?”

“Peter took my cat’s eye marble!” May whined.

“Nuh-uh, you said I could have it!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

Robert huffed and said, “Hush now! Both of you!” He looked over at Thomas. “Who’s tellin’ the truth? ”

“Both of ’em. Kinda.” Thomas shrugged, and Robert leveled a look, urging him to explain. “Well, May was copying everything he was saying, and so he said ‘you can have my favorite marble,’ and then May repeated it, and so, Peter took the marble.”

“I was only copyin’ him because they were copyin’ me this mornin!” May said.

Robert closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Peter, return the Goddamn marble.”