Page 56 of Resilience on Canvas

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Robert

Relaxing on the stoop of the new rental home that him and Henry shared with Henry’s friends, Robert took a long pull on his cigarette—the first he’d had since before leaving Guymon.

He only managed to relish the warm heat for a moment before his stomach twisted with shame and he exhaled, sending smoke billowing into the cool summer night.

With how wrecked his lungs probably were from the Oklahoma storms, Robert knew it wasn’t smart to ruin them more with the cigarettes, but he hadn’t managed to resist. He needed to fucking feel something, even if that something was only the bit of comfort that came from the warm burn in his lungs.

It had been three weeks since Henry and Robert had moved into a rental home without the rest of the Davis family.

Now Robert only saw most of the people he loved on Sundays.

Both him and Henry had been staying home from the fields on Sundays to take a break from working.

Instead of them earning more money on Sundays, they had been spending it, first in the church collection basket and then while they were with Robert’s family, either on the beach or elsewhere in the city.

And Robert knew he ought to have had stronger feelings of fury or shame or sorrow over the whole thing, but he couldn’t manage it.

It was like the fire he’d had in him since birth had been partially snuffed out by the black blizzard of failure.

With only a few of them embers still left smoldering, Robert was feeling numb.

Robert smoked his cigarette some more, cherishing the tiny blips of barely-there emotions he could still feel, like shame over puffing on the Goddamn thing in the first place and relief that he felt like crap over his terrible habit.

Watching the smoke clouds waft into the sky, Robert heaved a sigh.

He ought to have been steamed up over the fact that him and Henry were only paying six bucks toward the rent instead of half of what the house cost each month, which would have made it ten.

But Rose and Joe hadn’t wanted them to “overpay” because they thought they “owed” Robert and Henry for the marathon money.

Which seemed like a bunch of horseshit. So, Robert ought to have fought back to pay half of the rent. But he hadn’t.

He ought to have been sad that the children were starting to love Charles and Lillian Sherwood like they were their honest-to-God flesh-and-blood parents or something.

Watching May and Thomas and Peter enjoy spending time with Henry’s parents more than they’d ever enjoyed spending time with their real parents ought to have broken Robert’s heart.

But Robert’s heart had been broken for weeks now.

Hell, ever since setting foot in California, it had broken a thousand times over, and its pieces had become too Goddamn small from shattering over and over and over that now, it seemed like there wasn’t nothing left to break.

Probably the worst thing, though, was that Robert ought to have been happy that Henry was painting.

Henry’s skills had transferred pretty well from them charcoal pencils to the paint brushes.

Not perfectly, of course. Henry was finding his own painting style, or so he had told Robert a few times, but still, Robert could see that Henry had talent.

He knew his beau’s paintings were beautiful—lovely and warm and filled with personality.

Dammit, Robert ought to have been leaping-out-of-his-skin happy for his little wolf.

He ought to have felt something when looking at Henry’s beautiful creations. But he hadn’t.

While Robert took one more puff of his cigarette, someone came up behind him. He craned his head to see who it was. Joe met Robert’s faraway stare with a half-hearted smile.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead,” Robert replied.

He held out the cigarette packet in case Joe would want one, but Joe put up a hand in response and shook his head.

“I thought you were finished with those.”

“Yeah,” Robert said, exhaling some smoke. “I thought I was finished with them, too. But, hell, I thought I’d have been taking care of my own family out here by now.”

Joe shrugged. “Well, from where I’m standin’, I’d say that yer takin’ care of them,” he said.

Robert snorted. “Right now, yer sittin’.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” Joe said with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, I see how hard you’ve been tryin’ to make money for yer family.”

“Tryin’? Sure. Succeeding? No.”

“But you’ve still been payin’ for some of their food and you still give a bit to the Sherwoods for that house of theirs. And you take everyone out on Sundays to church and the movies and whatnot.”

“Only because I can’t make enough money to properly care for my family the rest of the time,” Robert said bitterly.

“Me taking them to the beach or to the movies, that’s me tryin’ to make up for the time I’m missin’ with them.

Givin’ a couple of bucks to the Sherwoods each week.

.. how’s that me takin’ care of my kin?

Charles and Lillian probably can’t even buy a week’s worth of lunches with the pennies I pay them. ”

Robert’s harsh truth hovered between them like cigarette smoke.

After a few long seconds, Joe scoffed loudly and said, “Dang, Robert, there’s more than one way to take care of people.”

“Yeah? How’s that?” Robert asked, curling his lip.

“Do you think that I ain’t takin’ care of Rosie because she’s the one earnin’ the money right now?” Joe said.

Robert’s stomach roiled. He wasn’t sure what he thought with regards to that, but maybe part of him felt like it was Rosie who had taken on the role of caretaker. Luckily, Joe continued on before waiting for Robert to fumble through a response.

“I mean, I suppose there might have been a time when I would have felt like I wasn’t takin’ care of her.

Way back when me and Rosie first started strugglin’ with our crop yields back in Guymon, for example.

” He blew out a breath through partially closed lips, the force of his exhale causing them to flap together.

“I remember when we had those first couple of bad harvests. Gosh, those months, they were rough on me. Because, in my mind, Rosie had married a farmer, and suddenly, it was like I wasn’t a farmer no more.

I felt like I was failin’ everyone. Tarnishin’ my pop’s legacy. ”

Robert crooked an eyebrow. “What changed?”

“Well, Rosie knew somethin’ was wrong, and I can’t keep no secrets from her.

Once she pushed to know the truth, I came clean.

Boy, she was real upset when I told her that I felt like I wasn’t doin’ my job as her husband.

She ended up pointin’ out all the ways I was still takin’ care of her.

Just, you know, little things like makin’ her tea or scrubbin’ the most stubborn of the cookin’ pans or even pickin’ up them Merry Widows from the store.

She tried to make me see that them things were just as important as makin’ money from the farm. ”

Joe took a pause and bumped Robert’s knee with his own as though to encourage Robert to think on Rose’s words.

Robert pursed his lips and flicked some cigarette ash onto the stoop.

He supposed that what Joe said made sense.

All of the time Robert had been spending showing his family some fun on Sundays had to have been worth something .

But still, there wasn’t no way it was enough. How could it be? Robert had still been missing out on the most important things. Bedtime. Cooking supper. Reading. Housework.

As though Joe had been reading Robert’s mind, he caught Robert’s eye and said, very pointedly, “Goin’ to church and spendin’ happy times with the kids in the city and buyin’ everyone ice cream—that’s all important, Robert.”

Robert let out a sigh. He really wished he could make himself believe that.

“Maybe,” Robert said. “Are you happy like this, though? Not being the, uh, one to bring in the money?”

“Very,” Joe said with certainty. “I’m so proud of my Rosie.

I like seein’ her happy like this. No, scratch that.

I love it. I love that she’s makin’ money from the theater.

Doin’ somethin’ she loves. I mean, Rosie was made for the stage.

It’s nice that she can leave the house every day and make money that way.

And she loves takin’ care of me, too. I can tell. ”

Robert turned Joe’s words over in his head.

While he was ruminating on them, Joe leaned back to rest on his palms and looked up at the stars.

Fondness tugged at Robert’s heart. Joe was a nice man.

He was a true friend, too. Maybe moving to California hadn’t only resulted in bad things.

Becoming friends with Joe, that had been a blessing so far.

Joe looked over and smiled a crooked, wistful smile.

“What a beautiful thing it is,” he said, “to let someone take care of you. ”

Robert’s throat tightened. He hadn’t never had someone take care of him, really. Had he? He furrowed his brow. Well, maybe his ma had tried before she passed, though even then, Robert had still carried plenty of family responsibilities on his shoulders.

Still, Robert couldn’t shake the notion that he ought to be the one taking care of the people he loved. But the broken, son-of-a-bitch economy was ruining that.

There’s more than one way to take care of people.

Joe’s words played over and over in Robert’s head like a record on a busted turntable, and slowly, but surely, the pinching pain in Robert’s chest eased up a little as he internalized their truth.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d have to settle for new ways of taking care of people for now.

Heaving a sigh, Robert snuffed out his cigarette and stood.

“I’m headin’ back in,” he said to Joe. “Are you comin’?”

“Nah, I’ll stay here for a bit. I’ve found myself missin’ the stars lately. Glad we can see some tonight. Even though the sky ain’t nothin’ like it was back in Guymon, it’s beautiful enough. In its own way.”