The moment he clicked Leave, he entered six hours of sick time in his company’s time clock system and crawled back into bed.
He probably would’ve stayed there all day if Nora hadn’t called.
“Hey Jo, we impulse-purchased something big and really need your help.”
“You mean you need my Jeep?”
Nora clicked her tongue. “Let me re-phrase: we are at IKEA, and we bought an unassembled-something big.”
“Ah, say no more.” Jonah spoke fluent pictogram. “I’m on my way, save me a meatball.”
For the second time in two days, he was rocketing through the Lincoln Tunnel and down the Jersey Turnpike. And if Newark airport was a madhouse at the holiday season, he had no word for the chaos that was the mega-home goods store parking lot; it was a blue-and-yellow bagged nightmare. Luckily, he spotted Nora waving by the loading area, as Beck struggled to steer a cart that precariously held two long, wide boxes taped together past harried shoppers and their excited children. Yeah, that definitely would’ve gotten them thrown off New Jersey Transit.
Jonah hopped out and popped the Jeep’s tailgate. And Nora popped a meatball into his mouth from the little cafe container she cradled, then forked the last one into her mouth. “Jo, you are a lifesaver!”
Lingonberry jam and allspice hit his taste buds as he took his first bite of the store’s most popular café item. Delicious, mysteriously creamy and in no way kosher, it flooded him with memories of his first walk-up in Manhattan, trying to furnish it on his starting Staff Accountant salary at the non-profit where his career had started fresh out of college.
And memories of his parents, driving a U-Haul across the Garden State to move him in. But not without a stop to fill the rental with particleboard necessities – and their youngest kid with Swedish meatballs – at the Elizabeth IKEA.
Beck hoisted the monstrosity from the bottom while Jonah grappled with the long side. Together they wrestled it into the back of the Wrangler.
“Go big and go home, right?” Beck groaned. “Best of both worlds.”
“Speaking of best of both worlds…” Nora slapped a lumpy frozen bag of meatballs against Jonah’s chest once they were buckled in and on their way back to the city.
“Aw, you bought me HUVUDROLL?” It was even more fun to say than to eat.
She laughed. “You deserve meatballs for days, my friend. You’re always there for me...” A little smile was exchanged over her shoulder to Beck in the backseat. “For us.”
Meatballs for years would’ve been more accurate, by the time he and Beck got the thing up the six steps to the raised parlor floor of their historic brownstone on West 44th. And then another flight up to one of the bedrooms on the second floor. Whatever ÄLSKVÄRD was, Jonah noted from the side of the one box, it was awkwardly heavy.
Nora trailed behind, carrying Jonah’s toolbox he’d assembled for IKEA hacks like reinforcing joints and customizing pieces. “Maybe we should’ve gotten the SNIGLAR instead?”
“Snails?” After an entire year as an exchange student in Sweden, Jonah was passably fluent in that language, as well as IKEA instruction manual pictograms. “They serve those in the café now?”
Nora grinned as she helped Beck rip open the first box, revealing white slats. The hex keys in Jonah’s brain turned. The furniture named after small things, cute things, always meant… “Oh, no way. You guys! A baby?”
His good friend nodded happily, her eyes filling as she bit her lip. “We’re doing things a little backwards, but…”
“But hey, at least you’re doing them.” Jonah swept Nora into the most delicate bear hug. “Your little tax credit! When is he or she due?”
“It’s early days. Not until July,” Beck supplied.
“No one else knows yet,” Nora added. “I’m thinking we’ll tell everyone after the candle lighting on board.”
However many of their core Year Course crew who managed to make it onto the Matzo Baller each year always did the honor of helping light its giant menorah as the ship sailed out of the harbor. It was an awesome experience, a time of reflection. Especially about how far their friend group had come, and how they had grown.
“Wow. Wow-wow-wow. No wonder you guys weren’t at Asher’s last night.” He clapped Beck on the shoulder. “You, though. Cigars and shots on me next time, man.”
Never drinking again, his brain echoed. Remember?
Except for toasting happy occasions.
The three of them got down to work and, with the help of Jonah’s extra set of Allan wrenches, a rubber mallet and some Gorilla Glue, had the crib built in no time.
“Stay for dinner?” Nora offered. “It’s almost time to light candles, too.”
Ah, the third night. Jonah smiled at them, watching as Beck helped his girlfriend to her feet and she leaned into his hug. A baby. He still couldn’t believe this milestone first for his crew.
