Page 31 of Take My Hand

Little bubbles dance in the corner of the screen as he types his response and my mind draws a blank at what he could be texting me to ask.

Hayden: Which of these sandpapers would I need if I wanted to get the paint off of a coffee table I have?

His question is accompanied by a screenshot of two different grits of sandpaper.

Me: You’d want a coarse one to start and then move to a finer one as you work down to the wood. Can you send a picture of what you’re trying to work on?

A photo pops through and my eyes bug out of my head.

Me: That’s not even wood!

Hayden: Does that matter?

I laugh at his cluelessness but am patient with my response because the only reason I even know any of this is because of my dad, and he never once made me feel stupid asking questions about projects.

Me: It’s hard to be certain through the photo alone, but that looks like it’s made of some sort of synthetic material, not wood

Hayden: and that means…?

Me: It means that it likely wouldn’t sand well, if at all. And what are you trying to do with it? Because if you want to stain it, then if it’s not wood, that won’t work

Hayden: well shit

Me: Sorry to burst your bubble. I mean if you’re at the store right now, you can find a worker there and show them the photo and see what they think

His response takes a few moments and I lean back in my desk chair, stretching.

Hayden: I’m online shopping. Didn’t feel like venturing out today

There’s so much more to that last sentence than what meets the eye. I know underneath that simple statement lies a bad anxiety day for him.

I don’t say anything about it, instead shifting the conversation back to a project that he could preoccupy his mind with.

Me: I would say if you want a new look for that table, then you’re better off just getting a new one because I don’t think there’s much to be done with it. But if you have any wooden pieces in your house, I can send you a list of everything you’d need if you wanted to resurface them at all

I send through a second text, adding that he could also go to a thrift store and find something to flip.

He seemed pretty clueless when he was helping me with my dresser. But if he’s looking for a new hobby in his downtime off of tour, then who am I to judge?

Hayden: Do you want to come over and take a look at a few things for me? I have a list of some renovations I’d like to try doing but not sure where to start. & I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Clearly lol

My heartbeat speeds up at his offer.

It’s just to give him some advice on renovations, not a date, my brain reminds my heart.

Me: Sure. When were you thinking?

Hayden: Day after tomorrow?

Me: Perfect. What time?

Hayden: Noonish?

Me: Sounds good

Me: I should also preface that just because I can assemble furniture and have refurbished a couple pieces by no means makes me Bob the Builder and qualified for anything more intensive

Hayden: well considering I was going to try to sand down a table that upon further inspection…I think it might be painted metal…I’d say you can’t make anything any worse

---