Bakar 34

SANDSBERG

By Jessica Bakar

Content warning: Sexual assault

1.

The SANDSBERG (article no. 294.203.93) is a black table for 4. With an impressive rating of 4.8 out of 5 stars, the SANDSBERG is described by online reviewers as a “good table,” a “great table,” and “👍👍.” Of course, the SANDSBERG would be inconvenient without at least one seat, and although the SANDSBERG table may be paired with the SANDSBERG chair, any chair will do, really. The SANDSBERG table, with or without the SANDSBERG chair, is a versatile object with an impressive capacity to hold. This capacity includes, but is not limited to, other objects such as the OFTAST plate, the FÖRNUFT cutlery set, the DINERA mug, and the POKAL glass. If feeling fancy or particularly romantic, one may add the VILJESTARK vase, the SMYCKA flower, or even the STRÅLA candle. With all these objects, the capacity of the SANDSBERG table may appear limited by its dimensions (surface area = 7370 cm, length = 110 cm, width = 67 cm), but really, granted no ceilings get in the way, the SANDSBERG table has a near infinite capacity so long as its baggage is skillfully stacked.

2.

The SANDSBERG table further qualifies as other objects, depending on context. When located in the bedroom, for example, the SANDSBERG table becomes a SANDSBERG desk, especially when the SANDSBERG chair is swapped for the FLINTAN. Despite this small difference, the SANDSGERG table and the SANDSBERG desk share several similarities, including an equally infinite capacity to hold. In fact, my SANDSBERG table and my SANDSBERG desk hold many of the same objects, such as my POKAL glass, but my SANDSBERG desk has the added burden of holding objects uniquely reserved for it. While my SANDSBERG table is consistently bare (except for mealtimes), my SANDSBERG desk holds my STÖRTSKÖN candle, my FUBBLA lamp, my overdue library books, my chapstick, and my unopened mail, all of which weigh on it year-round.

3.

The SANDSBERG table and the SANDSBERG desk also hold space for conversation. Topics of discussion at my SANDSBERG table are often similar to those at my SANDSBERG desk and include, but are not limited to, politics, work, school, family, childhood, art, entertainment, romance, and health. Despite these similarities, I often say things at my SANDSBERG desk that I would never say at my SANDSBERG table—or if I did, I would say them quite differently. Across my SANDSBERG table, I tell my roommates, “I never finished The Handmaid’s Tale,” whereas at my SANDSBERG desk, sitting in my FLINTAN chair, I tell the RAINN volunteer on the other end of the line, “I think I’m waiting for someone to tell me what happened was wrong.”

4.

Of course, the SANDSBERG table and the SANDSBERG desk both hold memory. By virtue of inhabiting a shared space, the SANDSBERG table remembers moments of joy, pleasure, and laughter, including, but not limited to, shared meals, cooking mishaps, movie nights, and pre-professional parallel play. The SANDSBERG table recalls tough times, too, like awkward silences, tense conversations, and skipped breakfasts—but good, bad, or otherwise, there is no part of my life that the SANDSBERG table remembers better than I. The same cannot be said for the SANDSBERG desk. As much as I have tried, I cannot recall much of that mid-June afternoon, but my SANDSBERG desk remembers because it saw the whole thing. And after (I mean, after I was done being used as an object), my SANDSBERG desk kept watching—how my body stood, dressed, and stripped the bed, indifferent to the fact that I didn’t live there anymore.

4.8

The SANDSBERG table and SANDSBERG desk are, by definition, the same object. They have the same name, the same rating, and the same number. Still, what I say to the SANDSBERG desk distinguishes it from the SANDSBERG table most of all. While I have never spoken to my SANDSBERG table, I talked to my SANDSBERG desk last night. I turned off my lamp, crawled into bed, pulled the comforter over my body, and through the dark, I said, “I’m sorry—I’m really sorry you had to see that. I wish you didn’t have to. I wish I could’ve stopped it.”

Then, I took a breath for the first time in what felt like a very long time.

“That must have been a lot to hold. I’m sorry you’ve been holding that for so long.”

Jessica Bakar (she/her) is from Northern California and lives in Tiohti:áke/Montréal.