Aiden and I ate kielbasa and crackers in the car while we waited for our dad to come back. We each had a sleeve of crackers open, and took bites from the same coil of kielbasa. Mom said not to share food or drinks with people, but my brother and I had the same germs, so it was okay. We tried not to get crumbs on the back seat, but I wasn’t the most careful cracker eater. I brushed the crumbs from my summer dress and the blue vinyl seat down to the car floor mat. We had the windows down and the car was in the parking lot of the small mall, with the Home Hardware.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know where we’re going today?\u201d I asked Aiden.<\/p>\n
\u201cDown by the bay. Where the watermelons grow.\u201d Aiden took out two crackers.<\/p>\n
I continued the song we\u2019d learned at camp last summer when I was nine. \u201cBack to our home, we dare not go, for if we do, our mother would say…\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you ever see a whale with a peacock tail?\u201d Aiden said.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you ever see a kangaroo taking a poo?\u201d I added.<\/p>\n
Aiden took a big bite of the kielbasa followed by the two crackers; they made triangles stick out of his cheeks. I puffed my cheeks up with air and pretended to chew too. When Aiden saw me, he tried to hold in a laugh, but blew bits of dry cracker at the back of my dad’s seat.<\/p>\n
Days out with Dad were different from days out with Mom. With Mom, we knew where we were going and when we’d be back, and she’d pack lunch for when we got hungry. With Dad, it seemed like he made the plans as he went along. Sometimes there’d be a big gap in the day and we’d drive around, or go see a movie. We never checked the movie times or what was playing until we got there, and then often just saw whatever started the soonest. Last time though, we really wanted to see The Addams Family<\/em>, so we drove around and looked for something else to do in between. \u201cWe got some time to kill,\u201d Dad said. When we were with Mom, she’d ask us, \u201cHow would you kids like to spend your time today?\u201d I wasn\u2019t sure sometimes whether I should be killing time because there was too much, or spending it like money because there was not enough.<\/p>\n I felt a soft breeze through the open windows, but was startled when my dad opened the car door.<\/p>\n \u201cJust me Ally, sorry. What were you dreaming of?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing.\u201d I was still upset at Dad for missing my soccer game yesterday evening. My team won the championship game, and I got two assists. After the game we got a can of pop, a bag of chips and a trophy with a tiny gold man at the top standing mid-kick, with the ball at the end of his foot. Dad had said he would come to the game, but then took a shift at work instead.<\/p>\n \u201cHere.\u201d Dad handed back two scratch lottery tickets and a penny and a dime. He then started the car, and reversed. \u201cSee if we’re lucky today.\u201d<\/p>\n Aiden took the dime, I took the penny and we went to work. We held the colourful tickets against our knobby knees, pinched the coins, and scratched away the small squares. Dad had his Travelling Wilburys<\/em> tape playing. He tapped the steering wheel and hummed along to End of the Line<\/em>. I could still hear the low clunk, clunk, clunk<\/em>, our old Chevette made when we turned right. The car\u2019s clicker went extra fast when we turned left. When we were younger, we used to call Dad\u2019s car a Corvette, but now we knew the difference. Aiden said we should have gotten a Pinto to match our last name. I thought so too.<\/p>\n My lottery ticket was a dud. I brushed the scratchings down to join the cracker crumbs and put the penny in my pocket. Aiden won three dollars on his, the cost of another ticket. Mom didn\u2019t like Dad buying lottery tickets. He\u2019d won four hundred dollars once, but that was a few years ago. He said his luck had evaporated.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere we going, Dad?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cA grand opening.\u201d Dad always knew when and where all the new store openings were.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat kind?\u201d Aiden said.<\/p>\n \u201cThe grandest<\/em> kind.\u201d He looked in the rear view mirror at us to see our reaction, but I looked back to my scratched ticket.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere are we going after that?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cDepends how much time we have to kill. We could visit Berne in the hospital. We haven\u2019t done that yet.\u201d<\/p>\n Berne was our old neighbour. She lived alone and baked chocolate chip cookies. Mom told us that she\u2019d broken her hip coming out of the bath. Mom said, \u201cHow unfortunate it was for her.\u201d Dad said, \u201cUnlucky.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you\u2019re not up for that, we could go bowling.\u201d Dad still had bowling trophies resting above the fireplace \u2013 they had the same gold man on top as my soccer trophy, but the ball was about to be released from his hand instead.<\/p>\n \u201cI vote for bowling.\u201d I hated hospitals. They smelled like strong soap and reminded me of the taste of blood. I had to go there two years ago when I cracked my head at home. Dad was lying on the carpet watching the hockey game; Toronto was losing to Pittsburgh three nothing. Aiden and I climbed and balanced on Dad\u2019s legs, but I fell off right into the corner of the wall. I got six stitches at the hospital. I remember afterwards the doctors asked me if my dad had hit me. I told them it was the wall that hit me. As we drove home from the hospital, I heard on the radio that the Leafs had come back and won the game in the third. Dad clicked his tongue; I could tell he wished he hadn\u2019t missed the game. I remember feeling worse than I did hitting my head.<\/p>\n \u201cAiden? What do you say?\u201d said Dad.<\/p>\n \u201cI say bowling too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou kids are the boss. Bowling it is. Let\u2019s see how this grand opening is first.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Dad pulled into another large lot of cars, near a sign marked \u201cF\u201d. We walked towards the crayon-blue building and saw people crowded around the entrance. When I got close enough, I read the yellow letters, \u201cIKEA\u201d.<\/p>\n 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.<\/p>\n \u201cAiden! Enough.\u201d My brother was first-born, so he got in trouble first. \u201cYou kids need to be sent to boarding school.\u201d That was Dad\u2019s 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 \u2013 plump and shrivelled.<\/p>\n \u201cThere are no boarding schools in Canada,\u201d Aiden said.<\/p>\n \u201cThen we\u2019ll send you to one in India.\u201d Dad just didn\u2019t like us fighting with each other \u2013 even if it was play. Mom had told us, \u201cYour father\u2019s family was very strict. They weren\u2019t allowed<\/em> to argue. But now, none of them speak to each other. So a little bit of fighting is okay.\u201d When Mom had had enough, it was different. She would ask God out loud to send down another barrel of patience for her.<\/p>\n Dad flipped through the store flyer he\u2019d been handed. \u201cDo either of you need a new desk light?\u201d he asked, and pointed at the flyer.<\/p>\n I put my hands on the flyer and looked, but didn\u2019t get time to respond.<\/p>\n \u201cAlly, your balloon!\u201d Aiden said. I looked at my hand, but the string wasn\u2019t there. I looked up and saw the balloon float up and out of reach of even my dad.<\/p>\n \u201cOops.\u201d I watched the yellow balloon climb quickly, happy to be free and in a hurry to reach the clouds.<\/p>\n \u201cAlly, you have to be more careful.\u201d Dad shook his head. \u201cNow go ask that clown for another one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay Dad, she can have mine,\u201d Aiden said.<\/p>\n \u201cGive it here.\u201d Dad put the flyer under his arm, took Aiden\u2019s balloon and tied the string to my wrist.<\/p>\n I felt like a little kid with the balloon tied to my arm. It was an accident. At least Dad didn\u2019t call me an absent-minded professor this time. I did well in school, but did silly things sometimes \u2013 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\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n The inside of the store was a maze \u2013 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.<\/p>\n \u201cDad, I can’t finish this,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cDon’t waste Ally. There are starving kids in India who would love that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut, I’m not hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n We stopped next to a large, dark wood cabinet. Dad gave me a look, and took the hot dog from me.<\/p>\n 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, \u201cDid you ever see a rhinoceros kissing a hippopotamus?\u201d 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.<\/p>\n 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.<\/p>\n \u201cFelix!\u201d the man said, to my dad.<\/p>\n \u201cOscar! How ya doing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood. Good. How are things?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, still hanging in there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre these the kids? My goodness. The last time I saw you two, you were below my knees.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey’ve grown. They don’t eat though.\u201d Dad held up my half eaten hot dog in the napkin.<\/p>\n I looked to the ground. Dad didn’t know how much he embarrassed us sometimes.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, mine were fussy when they were younger too. Now, you should see them, they come home and empty the fridge.\u201d The man let out a friendly chuckle, like a cartoon bear, and I remembered him; he worked with my dad at the plant.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you kids play any sports?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI play soccer,\u201d Aiden said.<\/p>\n \u201cSoccer! Excellent. How about you sweetie?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI play soccer too. Left wing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat’s great. Keep them in the sports and they’ll be fine.\u201d The cartoon bear had a broad smile. \u201cI tell ya, she’s got her mother’s looks. The spitting image. And this guy, he’s got your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n 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.<\/p>\n \u201cDad, can we go play?\u201d Aiden asked.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay, but stay in this area. This place is a gigantic.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo kidding,\u201d said the man.<\/p>\n \u201cSKRU…VSTA. Not comfortable.\u201d The chair I sat in was hard and checkered black and white like a chess board. \u201cWhat’s yours called?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTIRUP. I wonder if it means pear in Swedish?\u201d Aiden’s seat was green and shaped like half a hollow pear.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe. Let me try it.\u201d After Aiden got out, I sat inside; he started to spin the chair.<\/p>\n He stopped after a few times around, but I was dizzy when I got out and walked away with a wobble.<\/p>\n 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.<\/p>\n \u201cLittle girl.\u201d A lady in an IKEA uniform came up to me. \u201cShoes off the sofa please.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSorry.\u201d I got up with a jolt.<\/p>\n \u201cYou wouldn’t do that at home, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n I didn’t say anything back.<\/p>\n I went to a post that had short pencils and paper to write down furniture names. There was a comment box too. Did you ever see a sly fox, put a suggestion in a suggestion box?<\/em> I folded the paper and dropped it in. Beside the comment box was a fire alarm. Last week the fire alarm at school had gone off, but it wasn’t part of a fire drill. One of the students pulled the alarm on purpose. Afterwards, in our class, Mrs. Stone asked us individually if we did it. When it came to my turn, she didn’t ask me, and said, \u201cYou’re too innocent to do something like that.\u201d<\/p>\n I put the small IKEA pencil in my pocket and went to find Aiden.<\/p>\n \u201cThis one is pretty good. GULLHOLMEN.\u201d He sat in a rocking chair made from weaved straw that was shaped like an upside down cowboy hat. \u201cYou okay? Did I spin you too long?\u201d<\/p>\n My eyebrows must have still been squished together because I was mad at that lady.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m fine.\u201d I tried to untie the balloon string from my wrist. Dad didn’t tie a slipknot, so I couldn’t get it. \u201cI’m going to ask Dad to untie this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n I walked back to my dad and the cartoon bear, but stopped behind the cabinet when I heard them talking. They didn’t see me.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you hear what the union’s been saying?\u201d Dad said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know how they are. All we can do is hope for an agreement. And no lay-offs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. We’ll be in a tough spot if there is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think everyone will be.\u201d<\/p>\n I’d heard my parents speak about Dad’s job before, even though they tried not to talk about it in front of us. When I’d asked them what lay-offs were, they were honest. It frightened me at first. I had bad dreams of drowning in a swimming pool of twenty dollar bills and would wake up shouting.<\/p>\n Mom came into my room one night after she\u2019d heard me. She kissed me on the forehead and told me, \u201cOnly worry about things you can control.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the rest?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cThe rest, you have to let go. Just let them float up to God to take care of.\u201d<\/p>\n I wondered if the worries floating up ever collided with the barrels of patience being sent down to Mom.<\/p>\n \u201cIs there any other work you could do?\u201d Dad’s friend asked. \u201cWhat did you do back in India?\u201d<\/p>\n I stayed curled behind the cabinet and pulled the balloon into my chest.<\/p>\n \u201cBack home? I almost became a priest, if you can believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou’re kidding?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope, came close. I’d met one too many rotten priests growing up. I wanted to become a good one. But in the end, that wasn’t a good enough reason. I just couldn’t do it. After that, I started working in tool and dye. Spent three years as an apprentice, only to become allergic to the paint.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou weren’t allergic before?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNope. Just happened.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUnlucky.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I could have been making good money working in tool and dye in the Gulf. A friend of mine went to Abu Dhabi and did very well. He lives like a sultan now…and I’m here, struggling to pay the bills. Just think, I might still be a bachelor if I went. I wouldn’t have the wife or the kids. Carefree. You remember those days?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA long time ago, my friend. Have you ever thought of going back to school? Or learning another trade?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I’m too old for that. I wouldn’t have the time anyway. The wife is trying.\u201d<\/p>\n My eyes and mouth were wide open, but I couldn’t listen any more. I got up and walked away.<\/p>\n I reached the same red leather couch and lay down. I didn’t care if that lady came back. I would tell her to get lost.<\/p>\n Dad spoke of his friend in Abu-Dhabi often. Aiden and I had agreed Abu-Dhabi sounded made up, like Neverland<\/em> or Shangri-La<\/em>. Dad never told us he\u2019d gotten allergic to paint though. Or that he would have gone to Abu-Dhabi if not for that. I couldn’t believe that he would rather be there, rich and alone, than here with us. I could feel my eyebrows squish together and I knew I was mad again.<\/p>\n I tried again to untie knot from the balloon that Dad had tied. It still wouldn’t come out no matter how hard I pulled. I hit the balloon and it bounced back. I kept thinking, Dad didn’t want us. I wanted the day to be over. It was then I saw the fire alarm.<\/p>\n I walked over to the post and I looked around. Nobody was watching. I reached up and pulled the plastic handle down. The alarm immediately rang throughout the store.<\/p>\n I stood there for a few seconds, not believing what I’d just done. Frightened, I ran and hid behind the red sofa.<\/p>\n I could feel my heart pounding in my chest when I peeked out above the couch. At first the customers were just looking around, annoyed that their shopping might be interrupted. But the fear of an actual fire and not knowing the way out spread. Soon there were people rushing for the exits, or trying to figure out where the exits were. It was chaos all around me.<\/p>\n I crouched down, holding the balloon between my knees, covering my ears and closing my eyes.<\/p>\n When I opened my eyes and peeked back out there wasn’t anyone else around. And then I heard my father over the sound of the alarm.<\/p>\n \u201cAlly!\u201d There was fear in his voice. \u201cAlly!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlly.\u201d Aiden’s voice followed.<\/p>\n I spotted them, and the same lady who’d told me not to put my shoes on the couch. She shouted out to my dad, \u201cYou have to exit the building, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI’m not going anywhere until I find my daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlly!\u201d he shouted again. There was panic in his eyes as he frantically looked for me.<\/p>\n As I watched my dad, it was as if something opened up inside me. A place inside I didn\u2019t know was closed, suddenly had feelings come flooding back in. Seeing how desperately Dad searched then, I knew for sure he loved me.<\/p>\n I finally shouted out, \u201cDad!\u201d<\/p>\n He looked in my direction, and came rushing over. He picked me up and held me tighter than he ever had before; I couldn\u2019t remember a time I\u2019d felt safer in someone\u2019s arms.<\/p>\n \u201cYou scared me to death. Are you okay Ally?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI’m sorry,\u201d I said, tears coming down.<\/p>\n \u201cIt’s okay, I’m just glad I’ve found you.\u201d He hugged me again, \u201cNow let’s get out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Outside, Dad finally put me down when we reached our car.<\/p>\n I tried again to untie the string. Dad saw me struggling this time and helped me work the knot out. He handed me the balloon back once untied. I held it for a second, and let it go.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat’d you do that for?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don’t want it anymore.\u201d I didn’t look up. I pretended the balloon rose up, avoided the falling barrels of patience and floated even higher than the first.<\/p>\n \u201cCan we go visit Berne in the hospital after this?\u201d I asked, already wanting to try to make up for pulling the alarm.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you wanted to go bowling?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did, but we should see Berne.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut I want to go bowling,\u201d said Aiden.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease Aiden. We can go bowling next week. It’s a better way to spend our time.\u201d<\/p>\n I could tell by the lines on my brother’s forehead that he was confused, but he said, \u201cOkay, fine.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou kids are the boss,\u201d Dad said, with a smile. He unlocked the car door and said, \u201cThat certainly was a grand<\/em> opening.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Grand Opening<\/strong>
\nThe lady shook her head and then hurried off. It wasn’t fair. Those other kids were jumping on the beds and didn’t get in trouble. I just had my feet up because I was dizzy.<\/p>\n
\n Aiden and I ate kielbasa and crackers in the car while we waited for our dad to come back. We each had a sleeve of crackers open, and took bites from the same coil of kielbasa. Mom said not to share food or drinks with people, but my brother and I had the same germs, so it was\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":780,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-322","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/322","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=322"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/322\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":705,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/322\/revisions\/705"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/780"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=322"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=322"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue20\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=322"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}