Iwas just planing one of the edges of my latest table when my phone buzzed. I flicked the curl of wood off the edge of the plane, set the thing down, and wiped my forehead where the bandana I wore over my hair had failed to catch a drop of sweat. It was nine in the morning on a Saturday, who the hell was messaging me now? Wiping my now-damp hand on my pants, I reached for my phone where I’d set it aside before I started working and checked my texts.
Jamison Duschene:Got a second?
Me:Sure, what’s up?
Jamison and I had been texting irregularly over the past few weeks, initially to vent the anxiety we couldn’t share with anyone else and then just because we got in the habit of exchangingmessages periodically. I wondered if this was going to be a vent - in which case I should probably pull up a chair - or a chat.
Jamison Duschene:My sister knows. She’s getting up my ass and it’s driving me nuts.
Me:That was a weirdly passive phrasing. She knows…how?
Jamison Duschene:Sigh. I kind of sort of caved and told her when she asked me why I’ve been so quiet lately. In my defense, she’s three years older than me and I’m used to doing what she says after a childhood of bullying.
I had a hard time picturing anyone bullying assertive, self-assured Jamison Duschene, but I supposed being a younger sibling would do that to you.
Me:What exactly did you tell her?
Jamison Duschene:Basically that I’d had an HIV scare and we were still testing and that it was making me nervous. I kept it as bare-bones as I could but just those facts kinda tell enough of the story, you know?
Jamison Duschene:And now she’s madly researching HIV transmission statistics and texting them to me. Those are the good texts.
Me:Those are thegoodones?
Jamison Duschene:Yep. The bad ones are the ones where she lectures me about safe sex, risk vectors, and how if I can’t have sex like an adult maybe I shouldn’t be having sex.
Me:Oh, ouch. I can see how that would be getting on your nerves.
Sighing in sympathy, I set my phone down and reached for a piece of sandpaper. I could type with one hand while sanding with the other, and keeping my hands busy seemed like a good idea for this conversation. With light pressure, I started working on one corner of the table until my phone buzzed again. Switching my sandpaper to the other hand, I picked up the phone.
Jamison Duschene:This is why I didn’t want to tell anyone, you know? As if I didn’t feel dumb enough having made The Mistake (™), now I get to listen to my bossy older sister tell me I made The Mistake (™) and how incompetent I must be at fucking sex. Sex! I am perfectly competent - dare I say, I excel - at sex!
Me:Lol, can confirm that you excel. Tell her that you bet she’s had risky sex before, too, and see what she says. It’s not just men that make dumb decisions.
Me:On second thought, that probably isn’t going to de-escalate the situation, so maybe don’t say that. Also, when did we trademark The Mistake (™)?
Jamison Duschene:I know for a fact that she’s had at least one STI scare, so you kinda have a point, though you’re also right that me saying it would just piss her off worse.
Jamison Duschene:And we trademarked The Mistake (™) last week when we were talking about what to call what happened. You voted for ‘That thing that shall not be named’ but I overruled you on the basis of succinctness.
Me:Yeah, yeah, just because you’re better with words…
I knew me. I wasn’t a wordsmith, I was a woodsmith. And yeah, that wasn’t a word, but who was going to fight me on it, hmm?
Jamison Duschene:Hey, you’re just fine with words. Don’t do that thing.
Me:That thing?
Jamison Duschene:Yeah, that thing where you’re all ‘I’m just a humble woodworker of little brain, I can’t compare to the big professional man.’ It’s bullshit.
I blinked at my phone. Did I do that? I thought I did a pretty good job of projecting self-confidence, and I wouldn’t have said I had a habit of deprecating myself out loud, but as I sorted through my memories of my conversations with Jamison, Irealized that yeah, I probably had dropped that sentiment a time or two, mostly when thinking about how my job compared to his. He wrote legal policies and documentation all day. I…cut wood. Sometimes badly.
Me:Ok but like, you demonstrably write a shitload more than me and I’m fairly sure your vocabulary is twice the size of mine.
Jamison Duschene:Bull. *cough* Shit.
Me:We were talking about your sister. Back on topic, short stuff.
Jamison Duschene:Who you callin’ ‘short stuff’? I’m a perfectly average height.
