Page 68 of Resilience on Canvas

Chapter Thirty-Two

Robert

On the first Tuesday after Henry had been paid by the Federal Art Project, Robert stayed home from the fields so he could walk with Henry to City Hall to see his first painting (well, the first for Uncle Sam, that was) hanging up somewhere on the second floor.

Crossing the courtyard to the main entrance, Robert stretched out his hand to brush Henry’s fingers with his—a small, but hopefully impactful reminder that Robert was really Goddamn proud of his man.

Henry’s lips curled into a small smile the moment Robert’s fingertips made contact with his.

Robert’s heart began hammering excitedly as they neared the entrance, and when he stepped across the threshold, his eyes widened with awe.

Holy hell, was the building beautiful and impressive—with large stone columns and intricately carved moldings and a staircase that seemed like something belonging in a mansion or a castle, not a building owned by the city.

“Jesus, this is where they hung yer paintin’?” Robert said.

“Yup. I think it was because of the subject matter, you know? They thought that it would be nice to hang outside the room where some of them Works Progress Administration folks sit. Maybe they thought it would remind them what their mission was.”

Robert nodded thoughtfully as they reached the staircase.

The bottom ten steps or so were so large and rounded and spread out, it was as though they had been poured from a bottle of honey or syrup, rather than crafted out of marble or whatever material it was.

At the top of the staircase, they made a right, and soon, they came upon Henry’s painting, hanging right there in the hall for everyone to see.

It was the painting of the little sapling peeking out from the powdery topsoil, but redone completely, with most of the colors muddy or muted or both, except for the vibrant emerald of the stubborn plant.

The sapling itself had so much texture to it, the little leaves looking like they’d been plucked from a real garden.

Below the painting—which was, in Robert’s opinion, the most Goddamn magnificent painting that had ever been made—was a little placard that said:

“Resilience”

by Henry Davis

c. 1935

Goosebumps pebbled over Robert’s skin as his eyes filled with tears. He turned to see Henry’s mouth twisted up in happy confusion.

One tear slid down Robert’s cheek, and he wiped it away.

“You, Henry Davis, are one talented son of a bitch,” he said with a sniffle. “God, I can’t even believe yer mine.”

“Why are you so worked up? Didn’t you see me paintin’ this back at our place?”

“Well, yeah, but seein’ it here... Jesus Christ, little wolf, nothin’ could have prepared me for this.” Robert paused to wipe away a few more tears that had fallen. “Holy hell, you made that. ”

Henry chuckled, his cheeks turning red. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again before shoving his hands in his pockets with a half-hearted shrug.

“Incredible,” Robert said. “Do you know what yer paintin’ next? Or where it’ll be? Dammit, Hen, I need to see every single one of yer creations. No matter where they wind up in the city.”

“Uhm, I’m not sure, exactly, but they told me that some weeks, I’ll be free to paint whatever I want, as long as it’s not too political in the, uh, wrong way or nothin’, and other weeks, they said I’ll be makin’ posters for the WPA.

Or, uhm, next month they want me to work with a couple of other folks to paint a mural somewhere. I think that’ll be fun.”

Robert inhaled a shaky breath, still so overwhelmed by both Henry’s talent and their new life. Fortune had smiled upon them out here in San Francisco. And it was warmer and brighter and more miraculous than even the California sun.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Robert said, his voice wavering as he was hit with a second wave of emotion. “But I think we need to leave soon or else I’ll start blubberin’ right in the middle of City Hall.”

Henry’s sweet smile broadened. “Yeah, I was kind of hopin’ we’d head back soon. Because we’re supposed to have the whole house to ourselves.”

He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and raised both his eyebrows.

Robert smiled through his tears.

“Well, we can’t let such a perfect opportunity go to waste now, can we?” He took a step toward Henry and leaned in close. In a whispered voice, he said, “And, if I’m rememberin’ right, I haven’t thanked you properly for your first paycheck.”

Henry let out a soft sigh.

“Don’t worry, little wolf, I’ll fix that as soon as we’re home.”

** *

As soon as Robert and Henry were back home, the door shut behind them, Robert captured Henry’s mouth in a passionate kiss, putting so much oomph behind it that Henry stumbled backward and crashed into the nearest wall.

Robert continued kissing him, his hands finding the buttons on Henry’s shirt as Henry’s hands found his.

They undressed right there in the front room, flinging their clothes over random pieces of furniture, like they both wanted to leave evidence of their upcoming bedroom escapades for everyone to see.

Naked, they made their way to the bedroom, pausing several times to kiss on the way, laughing to themselves whenever they did.

Once in the bedroom, Robert shoved Henry onto the mattress and wasted no time taking the cooking oil from the nightstand.

He kissed Henry sensually, hungrily, as he prepped his husband for what he hoped would be the lovemaking of his life.

Robert fingered Henry for a few minutes, his rough movements eliciting the loveliest moans and whimpers and whines, and then, once he himself could no longer stand the wait, coated his shaft with the lubricant.

Excitedly, Robert lifted Henry’s legs to rest them on his shoulders and slowly pushed himself in.

He paused when the entirety of his cock was inside, intending to provide Henry with some time to adjust, but as soon as their eyes locked, as soon as Robert had enough time to think, the image of Henry’s painting burst into Robert’s mind with wonderful clarity, and his eyes filled with tears.

Resilience .

Christ Almighty, they had made it. After years and years of hardship, Robert was finally free from the shackles of poverty. All thanks to Henry, the love of his life.

“Dammit,” Robert cursed as he started to cry. “Sorry, Hen, I still can’t believe that we made it. I mean that painting, it... Henry, we made it . We’re here in California together and... and we made it .”

“Oh, Robert,” Henry cooed. “Come here.”

Robert lowered himself to nuzzle Henry’s nose, and Henry then pressed their lips together, kissing Robert with a tenderness and softness unlike any he had ever known. Robert continued to cry, his tears wetting Henry’s cheeks as their lips moved together.

“I’m sorry, Hen,” he said when they parted. “I’m supposed to be takin’ care of you.”

“You are, Robert,” Henry said. “You are.”

“I’m sorry that I still can’t find no work for myself. Nothin’ other than the fuckin’ fruit pickin’.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Henry said, touching his cheek. “Ever.”

“And now I’m supposed to be pleasurin’ you the way you like most, and yet I’m cryin’ like a Goddamn fool instead. Damn these son-of-a-bitch emotions for ruinin’ everything.”

Henry let out a soft chuckle. “I’m happy no matter how it is that we’re makin’ love. Or even when we’re not makin’ love.” He reached up to wipe Robert’s tears with one of his thumbs. “Goodness, Robert, you know that.”

“I’m tryin’ to know it, Hen. But I want to take care of you. I want that so much.”

“We’re takin’ care of each other . We’re in this together now.

We belong to each other, remember? Yer mine and I’m yers.

” He lifted his head and kissed Robert once more.

“Sometimes I’ll make more money than you, and sometimes you’ll make more than me, and that’s how life will be for us.

And sometimes we’ll make love fast and rough and probably we’ll even break our bedframe once or twice.

” Robert laughed and Henry laughed too. “But other times we’ll make love like this—nice and slow. ”

“‘Slow’ is bein’ generous. I haven’t even moved yet. Just cried on you a bunch.”

Henry moved a hand through Robert’s curls. “I know. But it’s what you need.”

“And what about what you need, Henry Davis?”

“What I need is you. Just you, Robert Davis. Now and forever.”

Robert sniffled once more. He let Henry’s words settle in his heart.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Well, you have me. I’m yers.” He pressed a kiss to his husband’s lips. “Always.”

“Mine,” Henry said with a big smile, his eyes now tearing up too. “Always.”

Robert began to rock his hips, feeling a transformation within himself—from the stubborn, tenacious caretaker he had always been to the man he now needed to be. Over the next however long it was, Robert and Henry made love. Slowly. Sensually. And with a lot of tears.

Finally, Robert had found the courage to let his little wolf take care of him.