Page 60 of Resilience on Canvas

“I found you some work, Hen! Honest-to-God work ! With a salary and everything!” Robert shouted, his eyes wide and wild as he met Henry in the front room.

After setting the fabric sack by his feet, he began shaking the paper back and forth in front of Henry’s face.

“It’s the Works Arts Project! Or—or the Federal Art Program!

Or...” He scrunched up his nose and turned the front of the paper toward himself.

“What the hell was it?” His eyes skimmed the paper.

“Right. The Federal Art Project from the Works Administration Program.”

“Art? Are you sayin’ that—”

“You’d be paintin’ for a livin’! Or drawin’. Or whatever. Maybe they’ll want you to make crap out of clay. Doesn’t matter. It says right here on this flyer that Uncle Sam will be sendin’ people Goddamn paychecks every single week in exchange for talents like yers.”

Bewildered, Henry shook his head, his brows furrowed and face scrunched up.

“But . . . why would they want me ?”

“Because of how brilliant you are, Hen! Yer the most talented son of a bitch in the whole city! I mean...” Robert took hold of Henry’s hand and took him to their bedroom where tens of Henry’s charcoal drawings littered every surface. “Look at these. They’re fantastic!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Henry said, his cheeks turning pink.

He pointed to a sketch he’d made of a bunch of tomatoes in a wicker basket, each of them having turned rancid, topsoil pouring from the rotted-out holes.

“Could other people even tell what the heck that is? Gosh, now that it’s been a little while since I made it, I can see how strange it is, too.

I was in a real sour mood when I came up with the idea, and it shows.

I couldn’t show that to no federal employee.

Why, they’d hit me over the head with it sooner than write me a check. ”

“Alright, now yer bein’ silly. ’Cause when you explained that picture to me, I thought it had to be the most... poignant picture I’d ever seen.”

“Poignant,” Henry scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, it ain’t poignant.”

“Am I not usin’ the right word? I’m tryin’ to say that... that it says somethin’. Somethin’ Goddamn important, too. It’s our continued struggle, right? Ain’t that what you said?”

Henry let out a long, exasperated-sounding sigh. “Yeah, it’s what I said.”

“Well, see ?” Robert walked over to the paper and punctuated each syllable of his next word by tapping it with his index finger. “Im-por-tant.”

Henry merely wrinkled his nose in response. Robert rolled his eyes. Clearly he had his work cut out for him if he wanted to convince Henry that he was worthy of being part of this Federal Art Project. Dammit, why was Henry so blind when it came to his own self?

Sighing, Robert walked over to Henry. “Look, I know that yer parents weren’t never very supportive of you.

” He placed his hands on Henry’s waist. The flyer made a crinkling noise when Robert sandwiched it in between his palm and Henry’s torso.

“I know that you spent a lot of time feeling like you weren’t enough for them.

But you, Henry Davis, are more than enough for me.

Not a Goddamn hour passes when I’m not aware of how lucky I am that we found each other.

Sometimes I can’t even believe that a sweet little wolf like you fell for a hothead like me. ”

“I like that yer a, uhm, a hothead. Yer passionate , Robert. I wish I could be as—”

“Cut that out,” Robert scolded, tugging Henry closer. He towed their hips together and then started to sway a bit. “You are as passionate as me . God, Hen, yer one of the most passionate people I’ve ever met. Don’t you remember our first kiss?”

“When I ruined my pants?”

“Exactly! You had so much passion in you that you came without me touching you.”

Henry blushed. “Well, I mean, you sort of touched me a little .”

“And then, later, you could barely even stop kissin’ me. You were practically beggin’ me to stay in that bell tower with you so that we could keep being passionate together.”

“It sounds kind of pathetic when you put it like that.”

Robert let out a frustrated groan and kissed Henry hard on the mouth.

“Just listen to me , you Goddamn bastard,” Robert scolded.

Taking a step back, Robert removed his hands from Henry’s waist and flung his arms wide, gesturing around the room.

“All of these creations, they’re proof of that passion you have in you.

Our government would be lucky to have you workin’ for them.

Because of yer skills and yer passion.” Robert came closer again and placed his hands on Henry’s hips. “Will you try this? Please?”

Henry tipped forward, kissing their foreheads together.

“Maybe,” he said. “How?”

“At the bottom of the flyer, it says that there’ll be someone at City Hall every Monday for the next month to talk to ‘pro-spec-tive artists.’ Which means people like you, right?”

“Uhm, I think so? Do you really think they’d want me?”

“Of course they’d want you. How could they not?” Robert huffed a laugh. “Ah, Hen, I wish I could help you see how amazing you are. ”

Henry’s lips curled into a half smile, and his brows pinched together.

“I’m sorry, Robert. I’m tryin’ to see what you see. I swear I am.”

“You will, little wolf.” Robert kissed him softly on the lips. “I think this’ll help. Bein’ paid for yer art.”

Henry’s small smile fell.

“What about you, though?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Will you be mad? If they hire me?” Henry said.

“Because then you won’t be the one earnin’ the most money, probably, you know?

I mean, I have to hope that Uncle Sam would pay me more than seventy or eighty cents a day.

So, I would want to use the money to pay my parents back for the funeral.

If you still want to pay them back for that.

Or I could pay for food and such for our, uhm, our family.

Just... I’ll pay for whatever you want me to pay for. ”

Robert’s expression softened. Christ, how sweet Henry was.

Even though Robert might have been mad if this had happened back in Guymon, especially when they’d first met, or even when they’d first been romantic with each other, Robert couldn’t never be mad over something like that now.

Not when him and Henry had fought and clawed their way to California together.

Robert wanted the best for Henry. Even if “the best” might mean that he’d be left behind.

“No,” Robert said with as much sweetness and sincerity he could muster. “I promise I won’t be mad, Hen. I’ll be happy for you.”

Henry smiled bashfully for a moment, but then, within a heartbeat, his eyes went wide.

“If I find some kind of work with this Federal Art Project... what’ll that mean for you? Will you still want to travel to the fields without me? ”

Robert shrugged. “Probably. I mean, we’ll still need the money.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Henry said, his voice now tinged with sorrow. “But I’ll miss you.”

Robert’s chest tightened. Dammit, he’d miss Henry too. Including travel time, sometimes Robert would be away for twelve hours when working out in the valley. Except on weekends.

“I won’t be that far,” Robert said, trying to keep his voice even, though he couldn’t manage to prevent his own sadness from creeping in. “It’s only, what, fifty miles or so?”

“Dang, Robert, fifty miles . . .”

Robert winced. “I know. But we’ll have our nights together. Sundays, too.”

After a moment of hesitation, Henry managed a solemn nod. Robert reached up with his free hand to stroke Henry’s hair.

Threading his fingers through Henry’s locks, he said, “I’ll miss you too, little—”

Before Robert could finish his sentence, Henry caught his mouth in a passionate kiss. Robert chuckled through their kiss, and Henry laughed, too.

“Sorry,” Henry said when they parted. “I couldn’t help myself. I was imaginin’ what it’ll be like when we’re not workin’ together no more. I’ll miss you so much.”

“Ah, Hen, I know. But it’ll be better this way. We’re workin’ toward our future together, remember? I’ll find somethin’ in the city eventually.”

“I really hope so.”

“I will.” Robert pulled Henry in for one more kiss.

“Now, before we return to the kitchen to help Joe and Rose with supper...” He trailed off and let go of the flyer.

It fluttered to the floor. Robert hooked two fingers into Henry’s empty belt loops and then pulled on them twice.

“What if we enjoy some more private time together before Uncle Sam starts payin’ you buckets of money for those paintings of yers? ”

“Goodness, Robert, it won’t be buckets .”

Robert tugged on Henry’s belt loops some more, urging him toward the bed.

“Show me how passionate you are, little wolf.”

Henry smiled one more of his bashful smiles, but then caught Robert’s mouth in a kiss.

While they kissed on the way to the bed, Robert peeked open his eyes. He caught sight of one of Henry’s unfinished paintings—the barren fields of Guymon, one tiny sapling sprouting from the fallow ground—and a memory flitted into his mind.

“What are you paintin’?” Robert asked, bending and pressing their cheeks together, while Henry sat in front of the easel.

“Home.”

“Ah, but that looks like Guymon. Don’t we have a new home now?”

“Uhm, yeah, but...” Henry pointed to the sapling with the paintbrush. “But this little crop here, that’s our new home. It’s our life together, you know?”

Robert’s heart stuttered, hope and happiness and elation fluttering in his chest.

He was so Goddamn proud of his little wolf.