Dad pulled into another large lot of cars, near a sign marked “F”. We walked towards the crayon-blue building and saw people crowded around the entrance. When I got close enough, I read the yellow letters, “IKEA”.
Outside the building, a clown with orange hair gave both Aiden and me a yellow helium balloon. We held the strings and hit the balloons at each other like they were punching bags.
“Aiden! Enough.” My brother was first-born, so he got in trouble first. “You kids need to be sent to boarding school.” That was Dad’s threat when we misbehaved. He went to a school in India run by Jesuit priests; they sounded like giant robots in robes, swinging their rulers for almost anything kids did wrong. Most of the priests I knew here reminded me of raisins – plump and shrivelled.
“There are no boarding schools in Canada,” Aiden said.
“Then we’ll send you to one in India.” Dad just didn’t like us fighting with each other – even if it was play. Mom had told us, “Your father’s family was very strict. They weren’t allowed to argue. But now, none of them speak to each other. So a little bit of fighting is okay.” When Mom had had enough, it was different. She would ask God out loud to send down another barrel of patience for her.
Dad flipped through the store flyer he’d been handed. “Do either of you need a new desk light?” he asked, and pointed at the flyer.
I put my hands on the flyer and looked, but didn’t get time to respond.
“Ally, your balloon!” Aiden said. I looked at my hand, but the string wasn’t there. I looked up and saw the balloon float up and out of reach of even my dad.
“Oops.” I watched the yellow balloon climb quickly, happy to be free and in a hurry to reach the clouds.
“Ally, you have to be more careful.” Dad shook his head. “Now go ask that clown for another one.”
“It’s okay Dad, she can have mine,” Aiden said.
“Give it here.” Dad put the flyer under his arm, took Aiden’s balloon and tied the string to my wrist.
I felt like a little kid with the balloon tied to my arm. It was an accident. At least Dad didn’t call me an absent-minded professor this time. I did well in school, but did silly things sometimes – like the two times I left my school bag on the school bus. Mom had to call and pick it up both times. She didn’t get mad, but joked that some brains must have fallen out when I cracked my head. I wondered if lost brains were like lost luck, and balloons that floated away.
The inside of the store was a maze – everything for a home in an organized mess. We walked through the bath, kitchen and lighting sections before we got to the restaurant where they gave away free food for the store opening. We drank big cups of lingon-berry juice and got a hot dog. Aiden and Dad finished theirs at the restaurant, but I still held half of my hot dog with mustard and ketchup as we entered the living room section.
“Dad, I can’t finish this,” I said.
“Don’t waste Ally. There are starving kids in India who would love that.”
“But, I’m not hungry.”
We stopped next to a large, dark wood cabinet. Dad gave me a look, and took the hot dog from me.
As I put my hands at down by my side I felt the yellow balloon touch the side of my head; strands of my hair rose and stuck to the balloon. Aiden whispered in my other ear, “Did you ever see a rhinoceros kissing a hippopotamus?” I couldn’t think of one to say back. I wanted to leave. Go down by the bay. Eat the watermelons and play with the animals.
I looked the other way and saw a few kids jumping on beds. They were laughing. Nobody else seemed to see them though. Then I saw a man with a short grey beard that I thought I recognized walk our way.
“Felix!” the man said, to my dad.
“Oscar! How ya doing?”
“Good. Good. How are things?”
“You know, still hanging in there.”
“Are these the kids? My goodness. The last time I saw you two, you were below my knees.”
“They’ve grown. They don’t eat though.” Dad held up my half eaten hot dog in the napkin.
I looked to the ground. Dad didn’t know how much he embarrassed us sometimes.
“Oh, mine were fussy when they were younger too. Now, you should see them, they come home and empty the fridge.” The man let out a friendly chuckle, like a cartoon bear, and I remembered him; he worked with my dad at the plant.
“Do you kids play any sports?”
“I play soccer,” Aiden said.
“Soccer! Excellent. How about you sweetie?”
“I play soccer too. Left wing.”
“That’s great. Keep them in the sports and they’ll be fine.” The cartoon bear had a broad smile. “I tell ya, she’s got her mother’s looks. The spitting image. And this guy, he’s got your eyes.”
Most people said I looked like my mom. Mom joked that the only thing I inherited from my father was his runny nose. It was true, although when Dad blew his nose it sounded like a car horn. I folded and dabbed the tissue to my nose and blew quietly.
“Dad, can we go play?” Aiden asked.
“Okay, but stay in this area. This place is a gigantic.”
“No kidding,” said the man.
“SKRU…VSTA. Not comfortable.” The chair I sat in was hard and checkered black and white like a chess board. “What’s yours called?”
“TIRUP. I wonder if it means pear in Swedish?” Aiden’s seat was green and shaped like half a hollow pear.
“Maybe. Let me try it.” After Aiden got out, I sat inside; he started to spin the chair.
He stopped after a few times around, but I was dizzy when I got out and walked away with a wobble.
I found a long sofa with soft red leather cushions. I laid my head on the couch’s arm and put my feet up. It felt like one of those couches where you tell the doctor your problems. I stared at the tethered balloon hovering above and waited for the spinning to stop.
“Little girl.” A lady in an IKEA uniform came up to me. “Shoes off the sofa please.”
“Sorry.” I got up with a jolt.
“You wouldn’t do that at home, would you?”
I didn’t say anything back.
