DIY — Darling, It's You!

No matter how tempting the idea of just staying at home amid the chaos, debris and crushed dreams might have seemed, Kim ventured out into the December cold and now was walking braving the wind and snow, occasionally peeking out of the scarf that covered most of her face to look at her phone and make sure that she still hadn’t lost her way to the unknown — the hardware store. Strictly speaking, the debris was not debris, but on the contrary, they were parts of a future whole — the cheapest and lightest bed from Ikea. The salesperson, wearing quite possibly the ugliest uniform in the world, informed her that the Grimsbu was better and more durable than the Neiden which she had chosen, but first of all, she was able to figure out what she liked by herself, thank you very much, and definitely didn’t want a bed that would best suit the interior of a prison cell, and secondly, Google Translate reported that “Grimsbu” translates from Norwegian as “grimace”, and that was the last thing she wanted in the first apartment she could afford to rent all by herself. UPS delivered two flat packages, one of which was as long as Kim plus another half-Kim, and wished her luck with hauling all this splendor into the building without an elevator. She didn’t give them an additional reason for gloating and didn’t say that she lives on the third floor and her hands are still shaking a little after delivering eleven boxes of books to her new place of residence all on her own, she just asked them to hold the door while she brought her future bed into the lobby. After this, the chances of someone stealing the second package while she was leaving with the first one decreased sharply. Having broken just one nail, she stacked the boxes side by side on the floor of her only room, looked all tenderly and glossy-eyed at this perfect, but too simple Tetris, put on her headphones, turned on the playlist called “The Most Inspiring Music to Boost Your Creativity,” which did a great job of helping to abstract from the sounds of a daytime talk show behind the wall, and got down to business. Everything stalled initially because Kim did not have a utility knife. However, she definitely remembered having had one at her previous place of residence, and no less vividly did she remember taking it with her when moving. Another broken nail hinted that nothing could be opened with naked hands, but nail scissors coped with both the defeated nail plates and the tape holding the cardboard boxes together. After that, the playlist started anew, since stress did not allow her to properly enjoy its beginning. Kim gently stroked the unfinished wooden surface and picked up the assembly instructions, on the second page of which a non-binary human figure was scratching the back of their head in bewilderment. “This won’t happen to me,” she told the unlucky individual, hid a stray lock of hair under her headscarf, and began to correlate the instructions with the real state of affairs. Everything was crystal clear. Except for one thing: how can one tighten more than one screw using the standard tool included in this furniture kit without going crazy? Kim was incredibly mentally stable, that’s why she only gave up after the fourth screw, and it happened solely because she accidentally, apparently in a moment of absent-mindedness, screwed one of the parts to the wrong side. Now the volume of work suddenly increased by twenty-five percent, and progress, accordingly, has decreased by exactly that much. Ergo, the scene — the scarf, the wind, the hardware store, hope for the best. Along the way, she had sought a temporary shelter in a coffee shop, since it was not possible to hide the eyes behind a scarf all the time — they, it turns out, were almost always needed to navigate the city without falling or colliding with people; but the wind, snow, and mascara which completed this list of hazards, produced too much of a harrowing effect on the usually very optimistic girl. And now, after an additional ten minutes, her heart sank with pangs of conscience, while she was chastizing herself for not taking a thermos tumbler with her, and her hand was clutching a rapidly cooling paper cup, the app reported that she arrived at her destination. Raising her head, she saw a slightly icy sign with glowing words “Devon’s DIY”, decided to give the owner one star just for the alliteration, finished the drink in one gulp, and, closing her eyes, threw the empty cup into a bin with unsorted trash. The bells above the door chimed, and along with this tintinnabulation, the store greeted her with warmth and a faint whiff of paint and glue. Her barely defrosted eyes immediately began to dart unable to stop at one of many stands with cans of paint, brushes, and, for some reason, ropes. In the foreground, on five wooden pallets stacked one on top of the other, a garden cart stood proudly with a handwritten sign attached, where someone, prone to producing rounded and curly calligraphy, had announced the great news that this barrow is only now cost measly $88.88 instead of $105.33. For a minute Kim thought about investing her weekly budget in such a cart so that she could take it on trips to the library and supermarket, causing smiles and bewilderment to her cartless compatriots, but she quickly realized that this impulsive expense would put an end to her trips for groceries, so she just patted encouragingly the beauty on the wheels, wishing it luck, and moved deeper into the store. On the way, she suddenly encountered a lot of curiosities. There was no way she could ignore the multitude of carabiner clips of all sizes. The tiniest one was so cute that Kim took two with her, then thought about it and took two more larger ones to keep them company. Further along, some marketing genius placed a wall boasting various types of decorative plaster in incredible colors, often complemented by glitter. She immediately wanted such a wall for herself…half a wall…as much of a wall as possible. The successful implementation of the plan was impeded due to the constraints set forth within the lease agreement. Specifically, one highlighted paragraph in the agreement explicitly prohibited any drilling, repainting, destruction, or construction of walls without obtaining prior consent from the landlord. “Goodbye, dear friend,” she whispered, touching the smooth coral waves in the plaster. Nothing else delayed her much, except perhaps some incredible bolts and plastic pipes with joints for them, looking at which she started to feel an intense desire to buy a hamster and build an intricate maze for it. And there she was in front of the purpose of her visit — a stand with screwdrivers going to infinity. Well, perhaps not to infinity, but six feet up and fifteen to the right, but that was enough for her heart to start pounding and her palms to sweat, since making a choice was deemed completely impossible. In addition, she realized that the screws themselves decided to stay at home, seemingly, being too cowardly to fight with the elements on the way to meet with their driver, and she didn’t remember their size. And so, when tears began to well up in her eyes, she heard a friendly “Hello! Welcome to Devon’s DIY! How can I help you?” Kim abruptly turned around and all but came face to face with a girl who was almost a head taller than herself. According to the badge attached to her red and black checkered shirt, her name was Candace. According to Kim’s eyes, she was incredibly attractive: blonde curls spilled onto her shoulders from under a denim cap, framing a rather narrow face with blue eyes and stunning eyebrows. Even in December, her skin remained slightly tanned, which was accentuated in contrast to the white T-shirt worn under the shirt — unbuttoned and tied above the waist. Startled, Kim took a couple of steps back and was finally able to see the full extent of her long legs. Attached to the waistband of her dark blue jeans was a belt containing a tape measure, pencils, a notepad, and a couple of tools. — Good afternoon! Yeah, I guess… Candace? — Yeah. Candace. It seems my parents had wished for an exotic dancer as their daughter. — the girl smiled. — Are you looking for a screwdriver? — Yes, you see, I was assembling a bed from Ikea, and there was a terribly ineffective tool, so here we have this, — Kim raised her hand and demonstrated her two ruined nails. The rest were still very long and pink. A barely noticeable shadow passed over Candace’s face. — What a manicure you have. Is it comfortable? — Oh, no! I just filmed stories from my new apartment today, so I decided not to scare people by showing off the everyday look of my nails. — Oh, I see! The lease rates must be terrible now. I mean, especially if you’re the only tenant. — You’re right, I’m horrified! — Kim laughed but did not elaborate on the presence or absence of roommates. After waiting a couple of seconds, the talkative consultant asked: — So what size screwdriver do you need? — That’s the problem, I don’t know… Or rather, I don’t remember, — Kim blushed for some reason. — It’s so silly of me. — It’s okay, happens to the best of us. Let’s check with the manufacturer. What model is it? — Candice took out her phone. — Er…“Neiden”, the wooden one. — I see. Single? — Does it matter? I think they have identical fasteners. — Yeah, probably, — Candace muttered and after a couple of minutes announced: — They don’t disclose what kind of screws you need, but it looks like PZ1 will do. Here they are, — she pointed to the part of the stand designated for this very variation. — Just choose a handle, there are plastic and rubberized ones. The latter allows a better grip, but the rubber decomposes with time and sticks to your hands — it’s so disgusting, — She winced, but it had no uglifying effect on her forehead or nose. — Well, then, plastic? — Kim asked uncertainly, looking not at the screwdrivers, but at Candice. — In general, it’s easier with an electric one. Take a set of bits right away and you won’t have to buy other screwdrivers or make any effort. A second — and you’re done! Disassembled, reassembled — no problem. Enough for a lifetime. Just change the battery from time to time, and buy bits when they wear out. — How fascinating! How much do they cost? — Let me show you. — They turned a corner and saw a wall adorned with powerful tools. — Candace took a screwdriver from the wall and pressed a button. It whirred reassuringly. — Please, proceed to our ultra-modern demonstration stand! — She made a wide gesture with her hand and pointed to the workbench on the left, covered with sheets of plywood. Next to it were various scraps of wood, drywall, and other common constructive materials. The consultant took off her cap, tossed her hair, put on her safety glasses, and handed the second pair to the potential buyer. — Stand in front of me; you’ll have a better view from there. — Then she took out a bit clip and a couple of screws from the pocket on her belt. It hadn’t even been two seconds — and one of them entered the block, securely fastening it to the plywood. — Do you want to try to unscrew it? — Oh, I dunno… — Kim said uncertainly, lowering her eyes and biting her lip. — I’ve never used one of these… Won’t I drill through my hand? — Well, it’s not so easy to do… but, theoretically, it’s possible, of course. — I should probably just find someone on TaskRabbit. — Oooh, do you know what their commission is?! — Candace leaned on the workbench and, lowering her voice, confidentially said: — I work there part-time and know how much it could cost. Kim, in turn, put her elbows on the ultra-modern demonstration stand on her side and, leaning forward, asked in a whisper: — What amount are we talking about? — she felt an unexpected jolt of excitement: either from the potential opportunity to find a cheaper handyperson or from the heady mixture of grapefruit and wood glue smells emanating from Candace. — Promise not to tell anyone? — the master assembler asked. It appeared she was contemplating a job on the black market after all. Kim shook her head. Moving her lips close to her ear, Candace whispered: — Twenty-one dollars and forty-five cents an hour. Tax included. Kim’s cheeks flushed. She noticed the pendant, hypnotically swaying around Candice’s neck. She also couldn’t help but notice that the neck of the T-shirt was not positioned very high, and, without making too much effort, one could see everything underneath it down to the bra concealing about fifty percent of her breasts. — I prefer it without push-up too, — Kim said automatically and then added embarrassed: — I… I didn’t mean to… Is it Zara? — Nope, it’s the Scoop. I don’t visit strangers on weekends to install curtain rods as a hobby, you know — it’s a serious and lucrative business. — she winked. — Ummm… okay. Is this one comfortable? — Very. Do you want to see? Kim’s eyes widened even more, and Candice had already walked around the workbench and stood next to her. — Look, there might be a Christmas sale. — She showed the store page in the browser. — They usually deliver quite fast. Oh, that’s it! In two days they are reducing prices on some products! But Kim didn’t see what she was being shown. She was greatly distracted by something. Finally, she asked: — Candice? What should I do then? — About the bed? I can help. I finish here at seven, then I’ll come over if you need it today. I don’t think sleeping on the floor is super comfortable, huh? — It’s okay, I still haven’t bought a mattress, — Kim sighed. — I definitely can’t carry it by myself, and delivery is expensive. — Ikea’s click and collect seems to be open until late in the evening, — the extremely kind-hearted girl said thoughtfully. — I have a pickup truck. We can bring it up to your floor together, right? — Oh, that’s so awkward! That is, I can’t pay you yet… 21.45 times… How long will it take us? — Well, firstly, we will work together, so, in any case, we would divide the pay by two, and, secondly, is the Scoop going to be the only one here to organize a winter sale? — she smiled. — Today I’m working for food! Do you eat after seven? — Yes. Yes, I do! — Kim smiled back. — My name is Kimberly, Kim. — I hope you don’t think I’m being impudent, but I really must say that you are the prettiest Kim I know. Apparently, due to the heat in the store, Kim’s face turned slightly red again. — Then I’ll… be back here by seven? — Why? Are you going to walk again in this weather? Let me come. Here, write your number. — Candice held out her phone. — If you insist, I will delete it later. — It’s okay, just a sec. What should I call myself: “Kim Bed Assembling”? — Just Kim will do, I’ll remember, — Candice laughed. — Ready! So, shall I take one screwdriver, what do you think? And…my bed is not single. Rapidly turning into a literal philanthropist, the consultant looked around again and whispered: — Don’t. I’ll bring everything with me. — Then I’ll only have these, — Kim took the carabiners out of her pocket. — On the house! — Candice announced generously scribbling something on a notepad. Immediately, a voice said from behind a nearby rack: — Miss Williams, stop flirting with customers! You know that is against our rules! — I wasn’t flirting! — she shouted back and mouthed in the direction of Kim who was suddenly overcome with sadness: — I did exactly that, — after that, she winked and disappeared into the depths of the store.

***

At home, Kim paced the room in a frenzy, then jumped, then screamed into the pillow, which helped her to begin to determinately move boxes with things that had not yet been sorted to one wall and, at the same time, look for dishes and clothes. In the remaining time, she decided to vacuum the floor and wash all particularly dirty surfaces, causing the apartment to smell slightly like a hospital. Ventilation helped a little. An attempt to create a cloud of delicate fragrance using eau de toilette led to an even longer ventilation period. After that, her gaze fell on the scissors still lying in the open package along with instructions and fasteners. She took them and decisively cut off her already strange-looking nails. After that, there was only enough time for a quick shower. And shaving. And a little more for makeup. And for drying and doing her hair. But nothing else. Kim was starving, but having already brushed her teeth, she had to answer the phone, dictate her address, and run out into the street, hoping that they would get some food soon enough. In the dim light of the street lamp, all she could see was that the pickup was quite large and dark, with a dent in the passenger door. Kim climbed onto the sagging seat, covered with white faux fur. — Are you cold? — the driver turned the heating up. — No, — Kim shook her head. — I didn’t even walk twenty feet. — We’ll be quick, — Candace promised, and indeed, she drove to the outskirts of the city, where the nearest Ikea was located, teetering on the verge of speeding and collecting all the yellow traffic lights. Her passenger felt horror and, just a bit of delight and dizziness — the latter, perhaps due to hunger. In the store, Candace commanded confidently: — To click and collect! — But I… — I’ve already clicked, and it should be ready for collection by now. Indeed, they instantly were presented with a trolley with a mattress on top of it. With the tiniest moment of hesitation, Kim handed her credit card and, looking back, saw that Candace had already gripped the handles and invitingly said smiling: — Ma’ lady. — No, — laughed the happy owner of a mattress with a 25-year guarantee. — That’s not allowed, I can’t ride a trolley. — Strictly forbidden, — the shop assistant confirmed. — Well, okaaaaaaay, if you two are good with being the most boring people in the world… — Candice hung her head. Kim warily looked back at the employee, who was already talking to the next customer, plopped down on the plastic-wrapped mattress and shouted in a loud whisper: — Split! Giggling uncontrollably, they made it to the freight elevator and went down to the parking lot. — Candice! — Kim, still sitting on the illegal vehicle, suddenly exclaimed in horror. — What’s that? — We forgot about the meatballs! To tell the truth, I’m starving! — Say no more! — She was already running back to the entrance, but returned halfway: — Meatballs or veggie balls? — Both! — On it! Soon they loaded the purchase into the back of the truck and settled in the cab with cups of food. — Is it okay to eat in your car? — Kim asked, not wanting to assume anything just because the pickup looked like it had been through dozens of owners, drowned in a silty river, was washed abank, left in the desert for a couple of years, and was now ending its career in a climate with sudden temperature fluctuations and salt on winter roads. — You’re so funny! And cute. Thanks for the question. You can do anything in my car. Like, anything. Kim sighed happily and started eating. For some reason, the dark parking lot and the company of an almost stranger didn’t create anxiety but rather comforted her. She stole glances as Candace pulled back the seat and now looked like she was in the most comfortable place in the world, eating an incredible delicacy. The heating was on, but for some reason, Kim wasn’t much bothered about the exhaust and wasted energy. When they started carrying the mattress up the stairs, it became less fun. But only for a moment, because Candace, who took the more dangerous position of the person lower on the stairs, said: — If you only record the sounds of what is happening here, there will be at least three versions of the situation — and not a single one will be correct. Kim laughed and almost buried her assistant under a rather large mass of springs and memory foam. On the third floor, Candice begged for a break and, catching her breath, asked: — Remind me why we didn’t buy a house right away? One-story. A one-story house with a very low porch sounds great. — Because we decided to spend our savings on travel first? — Oh, right. For that, I am ready to put up with it. How many more left? — One flight. — Hooray! Oh, your neighbors are cooking fish. And broccoli. Let’s run away from here. Their movements did not turn into running, but they rather quickly reached the apartment. One could have a view of the entire room right away. Immediately from the door to the right was, if you’re prone to exaggerations and decided to call it that, the kitchen — one of the smallest in the world, consisting of a sink, a stove, an elbow-long work surface, and two cupboards. Right next to the kitchen was a narrow door to the bathroom. There was just enough space left for a bed. In the front wall, two tall narrow windows with slightly dented blinds were stretching almost to the ceiling. A table and a swivel chair were pushed up to one of the windows. The left wall was hidden behind boxes, and a closet was built in the wall to the right of the door. There was nothing more to see. With one last feat of incredible but quickly decreasing power, they dragged the mattress to the center of the room and fell onto it. — I advise you against moving house any time soon. — I haven’t even unpacked my things yet, and have a one-year contract, so I guess I’ll settle here for now. — Great. Now I’ll go get the tools. Now. I’m almost there. — Candice muttered, making no attempt to get up. — Can I help you? — Nah, I’ll manage. You just have to remind me which floor we are on. — Third. — Huh, it could have been worse. Soon the master of assembly returned with a toolbox, shed her jacket, and Kim couldn’t help but notice that instead of the white T-shirt and shirt, she was only wearing a gray tank top. Skillfully laying out the bed parts around the perimeter of the future finished product, she placed the necessary screws and corner fastenings at each corner and, taking the screwdriver at the ready, said: — Ten to fifteen minutes. — Sorry? — That’s how long it’ll take me to do this. — Oh, so fast? — Kim couldn’t hide her disappointment. — Okay, seventeen. Now I’ll take apart what someone assembled in our absence, — she nodded at the morning attempts at independent assembly. The room filled with buzzing sounds, and the pieces of furniture quickly began to come together. After about ten minutes, there was an exclamation: — Kim! Kimberly! — What’s happened? — It’s a challenging part, — Candice pointed to the spot where one of the legs was attached. Interestingly enough, the second one was already in place and securely screwed on. — What should I do? — Hold it like this, — the handywoman placed the screwdriver against the screw and balanced it properly. — Are you right-handed? Right hand here, index finger on the trigger. Press with your left hand from above. — she stood behind Kim and put her hands on top of hers. — Fire! Despite the double effort, or rather because of it, accompanied by Kim’s squeal, the screwdriver slipped and fell to the floor, miraculously missing everyone’s feet. — It’s not broken, is it? — the owner of the bed asked guiltily. — Nah, I seriously doubt it, it’s not its first rodeo. — Candice didn’t go anywhere, didn’t make any attempts to lift the tool, and her arms were still wrapped around slightly trembling Kim, who wasn't in a hurry to move away either. Slowly, very slowly, she turned. Then she closed her eyes, just stood there for a while, and finally raised her chin. Their eyes met. Candace smiled slightly. Even in the dim light of the very old and still dusty ceiling light, she looked impossibly beautiful, and Kim hesitantly reached out to make sure that those cheekbones and cheeks and chin were not only so close to her, but they were real. A quivering sigh followed in response, closing the distance between them. Kim’s second hand also reached where the first was, she slightly pulled Candice’s face towards hers, rose on tiptoes, and pressed her lips to hers. They inhaled simultaneously, and the kiss became more intense and fervent. Kim quickly realized that her hands could be put to something more useful, since, clearly, there was no longer any danger of their noses colliding, and she was able to feel that the girl’s back was just as hot even through her T-shirt, which she carefully pulled up and now hesitantly, with one finger, traced along the strip of skin between the waistband of the jeans and the hem of the top. — Everything is great, — Candace whispered, — but there’s a hole in the blinds the size of my head, and I’m sure there are at least three binoculars pointed at us from the windows of the neighboring house. — I can shake my fist at them, reach out my window, and take a couple of binoculars for myself, — Kim laughed. — Or we can just turn off the lights and get out of sight. I’m sure there’s a pretty big mattress in here somewhere. — It’s still wrapped in plastic. — I know what people do in such cases. — Okay. And I seem to remember where my sheets are. Kim rushed towards a large green plastic container but came to a sudden stop upon opening it. Candace came up and, putting her hand on her shoulder, looked at what terrible thing was going on, then burst out laughing. — Oh, this can be considered an equivalent of period pants that turned out to be on you at the wrong moment. Don’t worry, I like Elsa too. After this, a sheet with the characters from “Frozen” saw the dim light, and its happy owner tried to hide her face behind it. — Oh gosh, I didn’t even know that my parents would take my text to bring me any bedding literally! I haven’t seen it for years…five years. Okay, maybe three. — This is terribly cute. You’re so damn cute. Have I already told you? — Candice pulled her closer again. This time her T-shirt went up without stopping, and very soon both participants were able to make sure that — by sheer luck, it was not planned in any way! — they were wearing underwear that was not at all frightening, which, however, no one bothered to look at or discuss for a long time, only Candice muttered: “Mmmm, the clasp is in the front, how thoughtful of you.” Later, watching shadows run across the ceiling and emergency sirens howling more often than she would like, Candice asked: — Do you mind if I finish the bed in the morning? I can stop by before work. — You’re so funny, — Kim pressed herself closer and stroked her side which had an amazingly smooth curvy line where the waist meets the hip. — You’re not going anywhere now. — Then she froze and looked warily into her face. — But if someone's waiting... — No, there’s no one to wait for me. And you? Is this all just your stuff? — Just mine. — Good, that’s very good. And… Kim? — Yes? — You are, definitely, a very hot girl, but do you happen to have a blanket anywhere here? — I do. I’m not promising anything, it might be the one with Twilight on it. — I really hope for it. Who wouldn’t want to see Kristen Stewart in such proximity? The blanket turned out to be a quilt made by Kim’s grandmother, but it didn’t disappoint anybody. Falling asleep, she saw the red light on the screwdriver battery blinking and, felt Candace pressed against her back quietly breathing, and thanked Ikea for their terrible tools, which did not allow her to carefreely assemble the furniture on her own.