"You want this girl to stay with me?" Ivan said into his phone.
"You have that whole place to yourself." Harry replied, his voice scratching with static from the poor signal, "You can't make room for just one friend?"
He gave a sigh, "It's a Lonsdale street apartment. I can shit into the toilet from my shower."
"Doubt she wants to share the bathroom."
An apartment in Melbourne CBD is never very comfortable. They exist for the convenience of working, for those that never really want to go home. Fitting anything larger than a double bed wasn't possible. Nor was it cheap.
Having anyone come and crash at his place wasn't really something Ivan had ever done, because it was a single bedroom hole in the wall. Not something to celebrate and spin into a neighbourhood party.
"Look, I promise you she isn't a kid. She can take care of herself." Harry tried to encourage him, "Besides, who doesn't want a gal around the place? You gotta get a bit lonely."
"I work. That's enough for me."
Harry gave a heavy sigh, "That's really the point of it all, is it?... Look, just... Help her out, would you? I know she's a stranger, but I owe her."
Ivan winced instantly. When it came to owing someone, he owed Harry more than he could ever reasonably repay. After their graduation, it was Harry who had kept him alive, after the car accident. Man's hands on his chest, had been all that kept him around.
Not that Harry would ever bring it up.
Ivan fingered the scar on his chest, through his shirt, and gave a heavy sigh, "Well, if she's happy living with a total stranger, and a guy at that, I'll try and make it work."
"I promise you, Grace is an angel."
(TG)
"G-grace?"
Two weeks after Harry's call, Ivan found himself looking at a young woman on his doorstep. She was towing a travel bag that was bright pink, and featured a unicorn, but her outfit was more fitting to her age.
A short black skirt, featuring an edge of roses. A grey pullover hoodie with a picture of a metal band, drinking something out of skulls. Lace-up boots that went all the way up to her knees.
Her hair was also dyed black, with a left fringe of purple. But seeing her green eyes, he remembered the hair being blonde. He remembered her grinning with a lopsided tooth, even though it was now straight. Same grin, but dentist's had been at it.
She was grinning that grin, right now. "Oh. My. God! Ivy? Holy shit! Ivy!"
"It's Ivan." He winced at her childhood nickname for him, but stepped back from the door to let her in.
Instead of going by, though, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged in tight. He smelled blackberries. "Thankyou, so much, Ivy."
Grace leaned back, shook her head with a grin, and then walked her case into the tiny apartment. She leaned it up against the wall, and spun around with a flaring of her skirt. "Holy shit. Guess we're both friends with ol' Harry, then?"
"Met him at uni. We were... Trouble." Ivan said, "How'd you meet him?"
"One of those troublesome nights." She snorted, "Wow. My childhood boyfriend, all mine again. You better not get any ideas."
"No ideas." Ivan held up his hands nervously.
Grace gave a chuckle, but it seemed almost forced. Like she was building up her courage.
The two of them were in the main part of the apartment. Half of the open space was taken up with a desk, chair, and a single corner off a modular couch. The other half was fridge, stove, and bench worktop.
Two doors led off to the bedroom, and to the bathroom. Grace took it all in, and put both her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, biting the corner of her lip nervously.
"I tried to warn Harry that it was tiny. Sorry."
Grace shook her head, and sat up on the edge of the kitchen bench, "No, it's okay. Actually, it's kind of amazing. Two minute tram to the station, and I'm walking distance from work."
"And all the garbage restaurants you can dream of, within walking distance."
She grinned, "It's Melbourne. Real Melbourne, not the suburbs. I don't think your apartment could be terrible."
"Still tiny."
Grace shook her head, "I can't thank you enough for this, Ivy. I know Harry probably forced you into this, and I'm sorry, but... I really didn't have any other option."
"It's fine." Ivan answered, "So long as we can make it work. Besides, it's... You. I think we've got some catching up to do. Preferably with that."
He pointed over at a small black box sitting under his tiny TV. It was the same game console he'd been given for his birthday by his parents, back when the two of them had still been working out what the difference was between boys and girls, and whether that should really be as significant as people treated it.
"Hell to the yeah!" Grace lit up excitedly, "Backstreet... Whatever. The beat 'em up thing we used to play! I can't wait to kick your butt, like old times."
Before they could launch right into the nostalgia, Ivan felt the need to be a little bit of a downer. "So... Um... I don't exactly have a bedroom. Or... A bed for you."
"Oh. Yeah."
He shrugged, "I'll be working most of the time, and we can trade the bedroom every couple of days or something. But... I grabbed a lilo. It's beside... What I generously call my couch."
She hopped down and skipped over, picking up the flat roll of plastic, "I should be at my internship most of the time, too. But I'm more than happy to sleep on this, no need for swapsies."
"We'll see how we go." Ivan said, "And hey, maybe you'll meet someone, and end up crashing at their place. Girl like you, city like this, it's the horizons, right?"
Grace gave him a really odd look, but didn't respond. His fault, he had probably just made things awkward, and seeming like he didn't want her there.
Which wasn't true, he just wanted something better for her.
(92)
The first few days were awkward.
Grace and Ivan shared memories of putting bandaids on each other's knees, following falling over across the asphalt of the school yard. But now that they were both adults, there really wasn't a lot to go on. They were strangers who just happened to know each other's names.
And schoolyard crushes.
The size of the apartment did not help. Whatever moments the two of them had together, were filled with awkward accidents, and more uncomfortable incidents. The wooden hardness of a suited shoe upon bare toes, or an almost-boiling coffee down a shirtfront, it seemed like the only things they said to each other was apologies.
The awkwardness did not stop there, either.
At the start of the second week, Ivan was in the shower, just stepping in after his morning run around the block and still breathing hard, when the door cracked open.