Chapter Text
Fifty-hundred and twenty-five dollars would never be enough to replace the entirety of a stolen living space. Regardless, Melanie did not feel an ounce of worry :
« You know what, Dolio, maybe it's not a bad thing. It was stacked with all that stuff Mom sends me. It will be overcrowded soon enough again! »
The blonde could not stop glancing at her samaritan, driving her red sedan through the sunny streets of Los Angeles with ease. Old Dolio never thought about getting a driver's license. Actually, she never saw her parents holding a wheel in their hands. As long as she had been alive, they relied on public transportation. When she got older, she spotted these kids who were around her age, sporting their brand new cars on their way to school. A world she never felt allowed to dream of.
« Mel... »
« Yes, hun ? »
Her heart was twitching so hard she could not even remember her question. This person was making her feel all sorts of things, this strange itches commonly called emotions.
« When did y-... When did you learn how to drive? »
A small pout, Old Dolio didn't know how to interpret it yet. Still, accompanied by an answer that matched her expectations:
« Around sixteen, I was in high school. Driving lessons are quite expensive, so, you know, I had a part-time job, in a bakery close to my mom's home. Selling doughnuts after school. »
« Your parents were poor? »
« Well, at that time, they thought I would get enrolled in college, saving up for my tuition, and all that stuff, so there was nothing left for my license. Eventually, I didn't even go, so, you see where my mom gets all that coin for her shopping sprees... »
Saving. College. Wow. The infamous life she's always fantasized about, even though she wouldn't allow herself to even put these thoughts into words. « I want » is a sentence she had never pronounced before this day.
« Honestly, Dolio, we just need the basic stuff. A sofa, a table, and the kitchenware... »
« We can get it back, I can get it back... »
Oh, god, what a stupid idea. Her instincts were crawling over the surface. Once a scam machine, always a scam machine. That's how she was brought up to be and the only shit she would ever be capable of...
« Forget it. It's a fresh start for both of us. » Her right hand went straight to the blond's thigh, and their eyes were meeting again. God, she would crawl in front of her again if she asked her to. « You've never bought anything you wanted, so, I'll give you the choice. »
« What about the price... »
Melanie's sweet laugh, so warming and reassuring. She was just so obviously head over heels about her.
« Ikea got some that are cute and cheap, and it's not like we can fit a big one in our living room! I promise you'll find one we both like! »
Dolio slowly got accustomed to watching the Californian scenery at a lower height. The buses are superelevated, giving a warped sense of perspective, not allowing her to notice the smallest details. The chalkboard menu plate, at the entrance of a Mexican restaurant. Two teenagers gossiping and yelling out loud, making the one with braids laughing uncontrollably, her mouth so wide open that Dolio could see her amygdalas. A true, sincere laugh, coming from deep inside. Then, this older lady walking her gigantic mastiff dog, whom she had no trouble guiding. Old Dolio was taught to flee whenever a dog came close to her. Dogs were a menace, they could bark, and therefore warn the neighborhood of her presence in a one-mile radius. Now that she intended to be a functioning member of society, she had no reason fearing them anymore. Plus, its droopy eyes are quite endearing. They drove around for a quarter of hour straight, until Melanie's red automobile passed by a blue and yellow basement, stretching itself endlessly like a ribbon, ruling over a plethora of cars, of all sizes and colors. At this very moment, Old Dolio's idea of the American Dream could've been summed up to a Swedish furniture store. Melanie parked the car. They got out, holding hands, Dolio captivated by Melanie's stories.
« It's easy to get lost in an Ikea store, actually they intended it to be shaped like a labyrinth, so you can't get out of there without buying anything! It happened to me once, when I was nine, my mom took me with her to help my aunt carrying her brand new TV stand, and, well, we eventually left with a massive floor lamp... Mom still has it to this day! Twenty years old and still going strong! »
Dolio realized she didn't even ask Melanie about her age. Three years older, it was quite easy to guess though. There, they crossed the entrance, and Dolio stayed still, subjugated by this abundance of goods, objects, and furniture of all kinds. If only she had been a kajillionaire, she would've bought the store in its entirety. The round shape of her lips and sparkling eyes made Melanie chuckle. There was now a childlike innocence to Old Dolio. After a few minutes of precise observation, the blonde grabbed Melanie's hand again, and let her guide through the stalls and halls. She pushed the drawers of the dressers, almost furtively, checking around her if no one besides her girlfriend were peeking at her. Naturally, they were empty, but some habits are difficult to repeal.
As Melanie mentioned, all IKEA stores are thoughtfully designed. Right from the entrance, you get into the living room's exposition hall. Sofas can be spotted from the doorway. Maybe Mel was exaggerating, Dolio started believing. Still, once she walked into space, an overwhelming feeling of indecisiveness took possession of her body. Too many choices. Too many options. Eventually, all of these couches were conceived following the same model, it's just that a few were covered with velour instead of fake leather, some had feet while some hadn't, and most had rounded corners while the remaining ones were aggressively angled. Dolio didn't care much about the aesthetic appeal; she just needed something comfortable to fall asleep in. For someone who slept on the bare floor with only a blanket on for twenty-six years, even a potato bag could make a great bed. She inspected carefully the price tags, only caring for the lower-priced ones. Melanie, though, had a completely different approach, as she felt only drawn to the flashy-colored furniture. Most notably, a fabric loveseat, very ordinary, yet standing out from the rest for its pink, flowery patterns. Of course, Melanie would not force her pick on Dolio, after all, their house is her first opportunity ever at making choices. Following five long minutes of precise research, Dolio finally went back to Melanie.
« Bargain sale. Two-hundred and fifty dollars. »
Showing emotion through words isn't a point Dolio had worked on yet, which means Melanie was confused about whether she liked the sofa or not. Her answer was not any more informative:
« Looks like the foam back at my parents' basement... »
Melanie whispered in her ear. She had to be constantly reassured. Her eyes, fixing her partner's elusive expression, and her left hand hanging to her neck, suggesting an intimate conversation.
« Is it a bad thing for you? »
« That's where I am from... »
The small brunette sighed.
« You're so much more than this, Dolly. »
« Well, I'm not aware of who I truly am yet. »
« I know who you are, and I know you are amazing, or else I would not be dedicating my life to helping you. »
« Melanie, do you love me... »
Now wasn't the right time, in the middle of a furniture store, to end up crying. Of course, she was so madly in love. She could've gone back to her dull everyday life after this episode in the bathroom stall, but she stuck around, reminded of the day she got lovestruck, in a fast-food shop where a sullen blonde girl carefully removed her fake acrylic nails, bathed in surreal sunlight, under the dazed looks of her abusive parents. From that moment, Melanie knew.
« Please don't think it's all pity. I love you, Dol. »
There's definitely something with these two and passionate kisses in the middle of retail stores.