Chapter 36: Houdini's box (close the lid and tie the knots)

Kate beams at you as you look at the picture of the house she wants. Ivan was right about the way she looks at you, you finally realize, and you wonder how you could have ever doubted her. Her hand slips into yours and it grounds you somehow.

"Well? What do you think?" She asks breathlessly. You shrug; you hadn't really looked at it properly yet. It's not what you imagined, but it's decent. Two bedrooms, fully plumbed and wired. You don't recognize the street it's advertised on, but it says it's close to one of the streetcar lines.

"I suppose it's worth a look," you say casually. It can't be this easy.

It isn't.

You can't take the next morning off to look at it, and Gladys has skipped enough days too. So Kate goes alone and when she trudges into your room that night you can tell that this isn't it. You feel relieved, but Kate isn't deterred that easily. She spends the rest of the week looking in windows and newspapers and Gladys is swept up in the general excitement.

You're getting a bit sick of this. This was your dream and it's been hijacked because Kate can't keep her hands off you. She's trying, watching her try is like looking at a dog tugging on a leash tied to a post.

You keep your ear to the ground so you can see if anyone thinks it's odd that the two of you want to live together but all the other girls just seem jealous that you've scraped together enough to leave the rooming house. They speak reverently of a private washroom and wistfully of quiet nights. Kate knows enough to know not to act differently around you. Ivan has been mooning over Kate in the distance and when he asks you to join him for a drink on Thursday night you take him up almost eagerly on the offer. You've heard enough about wallpaper and rail-lines and ambient lighting, which is all that fills your room of an evening.

The Jewel Box allows you a bit of breathing space to escape the future Gladys and Kate are building for you. You have a beer while you're waiting for Ivan and he slips into a seat next to you a few deep draughts later. He puts two beers on the table, one in front of you.

"I didn't hurt you the other night, did I?" He asks. You rub your jaw and shrug.

"Nah. I've had worse."

"Good. I don't know what came over me."

"It's hard, being dropped, isn't it?" You ask. He snorts.

"Twice in a row? Yeah," he says, and he should sound bitter but he mostly sounds resigned. "I didn't put too much pressure on you, did I? I mean…" and he's blushing and you feel bad for him.

"I wouldn't have if I didn't want to," you tell him, and it's even almost true. "I think I maybe wasn't ready, though." He nods as if that's confirmation of what he's been waiting to hear.

"And Kate wasn't ready to marry me." He sighs and drinks deeply. You keep an eye on his hands, in case the beer makes him start swinging again.

"You didn't..." You start to ask but you can't form the words. This is something you haven't been able to talk about with Kate and it's something you've really wanted to know.

"You mean…" he starts, then shakes his head. "Nah. She's not that sort of girl, you know?" You should be offended that you are apparently that sort of girl but you're too busy trying not to snort at the thought that Kate isn't 'that sort of girl'.

"I know," you finally say. "I know she felt bad, not telling you about her dad, but how can you tell someone you like something like that? And then, having you know what her life was like before? It was too much. She doesn't talk about it because she doesn't want to talk about it." He nods, then walks to the bar and grabs another two beers.

"I don't care about that. I care about her," he tells you earnestly when he returns.

"You also care that she's friends with Leon," you point out.

"I'm friends with you, and you're a murderer," he points out, and you realize that Kate hasn't told him that little detail. "I'm sure I could get used to Leon, given time."

"Maybe you should be talking about this with her, not me," you suggest, because now you want to leave and go bury yourself under your sheets and never see daylight ever again. But first you'll have to kick women out of your room and burn a bunch of house brochures. "I gotta get going," you say, getting to your feet. He grabs you by the wrist.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I know it was an accident." You waver for a second. "At least finish your beer?" He says quietly. When you sit back down he holds out his silver cigarette case with one cigarette tipped towards you like a bribe but you take it because you've been smoking a lot, lately. You both light up and just watch smoke waft up toward the ceiling. "I don't think I thanked you, by the way," he says casually. "I get the feeling that she'd still be looking over her shoulder if you hadn't… done that."

"Don't know if she'll ever stop looking over her shoulder, Ivan," you tell him. He reaches a hand across the table toward you.

"I don't suppose there's a chance…" but you play dumb to his clumsy advance.

"I'm not putting another good word in for you, Ivan. I did enough of that when you were dating."

"You did?" He asks, and his face lights up. You roll your eyes.

"She's my best friend, she needed to know it wasn't strange for me that you were dating." His face falls and his hand retreats. You're relieved when Vera comes in and joins you, even if it means more talk about looking at houses.

Author's note: this took a turn because I ran into my Ivan today for the first time in 7 years and it freaked me the heck out. Thanks for the feedback, smut will be in a higher rated chapter.

Title from the Jill Sobule song "Houdini's Box".