Hen:Ok, fair, I wouldn’t want to hear that, either. Sisters should be asexual as far as brothers are concerned. And vice versa, to be fair.
Hen:Hold on, new clinic message.
I caught my breath and held it.
Hen:Fuck yeah! Negative!
My breath whooshed out of me.
Me:Why is that such a huge relief when I knew the risk was already minimal? I mean yes, relief, ok, but I just let out the world’s largest breath as if it was a life-or-death emergency.
Hen:Probably because it still kinda feels like life-or-death no matter how many times we do this and how often we assure each other that HIV is a chronic, controllable condition. Societal conditioning is a bitch.
Me:When’d you get so smart?
Hen:Must have been some time after I randomly forgot to use a condom during a hookup, eh?
Me:[laugh-cry emoji] [laugh-cry emoji]
I actually felt a little bit like the personification of the laugh-cry emoji, so it seemed appropriate. I knew, logically, that I was at almost no risk because of my PrEP, and the risk was dropping with each "non-reactive" result we got. But damn, I needed a hug every time we had this conversation.
Hen:I feel like I need a hug and a stiff drink.
Was he reading my mind? I stared at my phone for a long moment. Wewerestill companions in the same boat. Maybe I should…?
Me:I can actually provide both of those, if you want. Want to, like, come over? Or I can come to you?
I winced. Too forward. We were, at best, sex friends. At worst, partners in wtfery. And yes, we’d had lunch that time, and it had been fun, but that didn’t mean he wanted to just hang out like we were buddies.Actually,I started to type,that was du-
Hen:That actually sounds really good. Maybe you could come here and I, uh, I could show you my workshop? And you could meet Curie?
Me:You offer me a cat? I can’t say no to that!
Hen:Hey just to be clear I’m not offering you my cat. I’m offeringvisitationwith my cat. Don’t be trying to escape with her stuffed down your shirt.
Me:Moi? Would I do that? (yes)
Hen:Lol. Cat thief. I’ll be sure to warn her before you get here.
Me:Speaking of, where’s “here”? Gonna need your address so I can stalk your cat. I mean so I can find you.
A minute later, I had Henry’s address loaded into my maps app. It looked like about a twenty-minute trip, not too much to expect out of a ride-share driver. Still holding my phone, I jumped up and headed for my bedroom to change. This may have been a low-key hangout, but I wasn’t wearing sweats to it. I had standards.
Me:See you in maybe half an hour or so. Want me to bring anything? Movies? Vodka? Condoms?
Silence for five long minutes, and I decided to just get on the road before I dug myself any deeper. I kicked myself over the bad joke as I stood at the curb waiting for my Uber.
Me:Sorry, that was a joke. A bad one. I am, however, actually bringing vodka, bc I wasn’t sure what you’d have on hand and vodka goes with everything.
Hen:Lol.
That was the weakest laugh I’d ever perceived in a text message. I slammed the door of the car behind myself and settled back in my seat with a sigh, vowing to be on my best behavior for the rest of the day. No making Hen uncomfortable. No bad jokes. Definitelynoreferences to unsafe sex.
I was gonna be a model visitor.
9
Henry
