Page 67 of Resilience on Canvas

Henry’s heart stuttered as time suddenly came to a stop. Had his mother really called Robert his husband ? Good God, nothing in Henry’s life had prepared him for this moment. Not one thing.

His mom’s brow creased with what looked to be uncertainty.

“I’m sorry. Am I not supposed to call him that?”

“No!” Henry spluttered. “Sorry, I-I mean of course you can call him that. Because that’s what he is to me.” Henry winced from a sudden pang of unease. “I know that’s not what you wanted for me, but—”

“All I’ve ever wanted for you was happiness,” she said. “Once upon a time, I thought that having a wife would make you happy. I thought maybe college or working in a bank would make you happy. But I can see that you’re happy with... other things.”

Henry screwed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Henry. I’m not mad.”

He peeked one eye open. “Really?” She nodded, and he opened his other eye. “But you.. . well, you haven’t said nothin’ since I was hired by the WPA. ”

“I know. And I should have. Goodness, I know I should have talked to you about it, but...” She let out a long sigh. “Look, last week, I was feeling a little...”

“Disappointed?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yes. But I’ve had some time to think.

And I’ve realized that I want you to be happy more than I want for you to have the life I had planned for you in my head.

” One corner of her mouth twitched into a small smile.

“Besides, your father says you are quite the artist these days. I remember you buying some special pencils or paints back in Oklahoma City, but I never thought it would be something that you’d fall in love with.

Or something that could make you money. I wish you’d have told me how passionate you were about this kind of thing back in Guymon. ”

“Would you have supported me back then? Truly?”

She pursed her lips to think.

After a moment, she shook her head. “Probably not. I might have told you to put that much work into... well, into working .” She chuckled and shrugged her shoulders.

“Actually, I think I’d have probably told Uncle Bob that he ought to give you more hours at the store.

” She smiled a little. “I’m sorry, Henry.

I really would like to see your paintings. If you’ll let me.”

“Of course I’ll let you.” He took the tray of potato pancakes from her and nodded toward the stairs. “I can show you now if you wouldn’t mind waitin’ a couple extra minutes for lunch.”

“I’d love that.”

Henry brought the tray of potato pancakes into the kitchen.

As soon as he saw Robert, he tried to reassure his husband with a nod and then turned to escort his mother up to the bedroom.

She crossed the threshold with a look of wonderment on her face, her eyes wide as she took in the many paintings and charcoal drawings scattered around the room .

“Did you really make all of these?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, I-I made ’em. Some of them are only half finished, but I still think they’re... well, I think they’re—”

“Amazing,” she finished for him.

“Yeah? You really think so?”

“Goodness, Henry, I had no clue you had this much talent in you.” She mouthed a silent “wow” as she spun in a small circle. “And they’ll really be paying you to paint like this?”

“Uhm, supposedly. I haven’t been paid yet, but I’m hopin’ to turn in my first piece next week.”

“Lord in heaven,” she marveled. Slowly, Henry’s mother walked over toward him, her eyes still flitting from one piece of artwork to the next, and then she took both his hands in hers. “It takes real courage to pursue something like this. Gosh, I’m so happy for you.”

Henry’s eyes welled up with tears. He inhaled a shuddered breath as Robert’s voice came in from the hall.

“Henry?” he called out. “Are you up here?”

Henry swallowed past the lump in his throat, and his mom removed her hand from his face.

“Yeah, I’m in our room,” he shouted back.

Robert strolled into the room, a big smile on his face.

“Showin’ yer mom how Goddamn talented you are?” he said.

Henry’s cheeks warmed. “Somethin’ like that.”

Robert moved to reach for Henry’s hand, but stopped himself, pulling his hand back right before their fingers touched. Henry’s hand shot out to take Robert’s instead.

Robert crooked an eyebrow, as though to maybe ask Henry if he was sure they ought to be holding hands like this in front of his mother, and Henry responded with a warm smile and a nod as he laced their fingers together. Robert’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink .

After a couple of seconds, he turned to Henry’s mother.

Robert cleared his throat and said, “Thank you for the pancakes, Lillian.”

“Henry said they were your favorite.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I like to have them with marmalade. Sweet and salty together is probably my favorite thing. Food tastes more interesting that way.” He looked over at Henry with a teasing smile and a playful sparkle in his eye. “And I like things that are interesting.”

He squeezed Henry’s hand as though to make a point, and Henry had to purse his lips to keep himself from smiling too much.

“Yeah, I like interesting things too,” Henry said, squeezing back.

A rumble of footsteps rushing past the bedroom echoed through the hall. Peter, Thomas, and May must have been rushing back to the kitchen for food.

Henry’s mother smiled warmly. “Alright, well, I think I better see if Clara needs help setting the table.”

“We’ll be there in a little minute,” Henry said.

Henry and Robert stayed like that until Henry’s mother’s footsteps seemed to reach the stairs, and then Robert yanked Henry close. He released Henry’s hand and placed one hand on either side of his waist, towing their hips together.

“Holdin’ my hand like that in front of yer mother,” he chided with a smirk. “I went and found myself the bravest son of a bitch in San Francisco, huh?”

Henry’s cheeks began to burn. “Maybe.”

“God, I’m so proud of you,” Robert said.

Henry smiled shyly. “Robert, I never want to feel like I have to hide how much I love you from the people in our family. Even if we can’t show our love to the world yet, I never want to hide it here in our home. ”

“Neither do I.” Robert touched their lips together for a brief, tender kiss, one that made Henry’s stomach tumble, even with its softness. “I love you, Henry Davis.”

Henry tipped forward, touching their foreheads together.

“I love you, too.”