Make Room for Love

Chapter 1

1

There was nothing like being crammed together with hundreds of gorgeous, strobe-lit people on a dance floor to make you feel alone. Mira exhaled as the doors of the club closed behind her, muffling the pounding music. She needed a break.

This was supposed to be a fresh start—her first time reemerging from her friends’ apartment since the breakup, aside from unavoidable trips to campus and the corner bodega. She’d let Vivian and Frankie drag her out to Volume, their favorite queer club. They’d helped her move her paltry possessions out of Dylan’s condo, and they were letting her crash on their couch, so Mira couldn’t really say no.

It had been good to let the music drown out her thoughts, to dance in a crowd where she was far from being the only brown trans girl, to forget about the rest of her life. But then, among all the effortlessly beautiful people getting very close to each other, all the fishnets and leather and glitter, reality had set in again.

Her long nightmare with Dylan was over. But now she was single for the first time in years, with nowhere to live and no idea of what to do with herself. Thank god she was finally free of him. But what was she supposed to do, when she still didn’t feel free?

Mira walked a block away from Volume, enough for the bass to stop rattling her skull. She wasn’t a smoker, but she almost wished she were, like most of the people scattered on the sidewalk. It would give her something to do other than feel sorry for herself.

Maybe it was time to go back to Vivian’s apartment. She could let herself in with the spare key and fall asleep on the couch alone. She reached for her phone to text Vivian.

“Mira!”

Mira’s chest clenched. That was a voice she never wanted to hear again.

She immediately spotted him. Dylan was half a block away on the sidewalk, heading toward her with two men she didn’t recognize, all looking like Brooklyn literary dirtbags about to hit up the bars. Dylan had more stubble than usual. Malice gleamed in his eyes.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts,” he shouted. A few people near him turned around. Mira’s face flushed in shame. “I’m sorry, okay? You never even let me apologize.”

He didn’t sound sorry. He always berated her in this tone of voice, but now he was bold enough to do it in public, which chilled her. The nerve he had to talk to her like this after he’d cheated on her was unbelievable. But icy fear gripped her, and she couldn’t move or speak. She may as well have been back in his condo, silent as the walls closed in on her.

“Hey, Mira, I’m talking to you,” Dylan said. “You really think you can just keep ignoring me?”

They were getting closer. Dylan’s friend was looking her up and down without even bothering to hide it. She shouldn’t have worn this tiny dress. Arriving with Vivian and Frankie was one thing, but now it was dark and chilly, and the sidewalk no longer seemed very populated. No one was coming to her aid. She was outnumbered and alone.

She looked around, panic rising. There was no escape. She couldn’t get back into the club without getting past Dylan. In the other direction were dark streets and empty warehouses, and she couldn’t run in these heels?—

“Hey!” someone called.

Mira nearly jumped. A tall woman was approaching from across the street, making eye contact with Mira. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” the woman said, her voice cutting through the club music and street noise, her strides deliberate and long.

Mira gaped in confusion. This woman was curvy and even taller than Mira, with light golden skin and East Asian features. Her long, thick hair streamed behind her. She wore a black leather jacket and work pants with a rip in one knee.

Was she talking to Mira? The woman was stunning. Mira couldn’t possibly have forgotten meeting a woman who looked like this.

She glanced around. Dylan and his friends were also a few feet away now. Too close. Who was this long-haired butch talking to?

Then Mira caught on. “Oh!” Relief rushed through her, so pure she could weep. Dylan trying to humiliate her was somehow less surprising than having a stranger stand up for her. “Um, I also… I haven’t seen you…”

The mystery woman stepped close. “Want to talk?”

Her commanding aura radiated from her like heat. She was in charge now. Mira nodded.

The woman took Mira by the arm. Her hand was big and shockingly warm against Mira’s bare skin, and she gently but firmly guided Mira to turn away from Dylan and his friends. Mira had no time or wits to think twice. She simply went where her rescuer was taking her.

“Is he bothering you?” The woman’s voice was a low, soothing rumble.

Maybe Mira ought to explain that this was her ex-boyfriend, that he was mostly harmless, that she was sorry for wasting this woman’s time. She probably had more important things to do.

Instead, Mira said, “Yeah.”

“Hey,” Dylan shouted. “I’m talking to you.” Mira instinctively started turning around, but the woman guiding her didn’t stop or hesitate, and Mira thought better of it. “Mira!” Dylan called, and she winced. His footsteps were too close. She moved closer to the woman, closer to her solidity and warmth.

The woman let go of Mira’s arm and turned around. Mira turned, too, her skin still tingling from the woman’s touch. Dylan was right in front of them, and the other men stood just a step back. The harsh streetlights distorted their faces. Mira edged behind the woman, who was as thick and sturdy as a wall.

“Leave her alone,” the woman said, just loudly enough that the passersby couldn’t ignore her. Someone stopped on the sidewalk a few feet away.

“That’s my girlfriend,” Dylan said. This woman was nearly as tall as he was, and he was clearly trying to puff himself up despite being built like a twig. “We were having a conversation.” He looked at Mira, and Mira flinched.

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk,” the woman said. Unlike Dylan, she didn’t need to yell to make her presence felt.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The woman’s stance shifted subtly. She wasn’t flinching. She was steeling herself. “Leave her alone.”

They faced each other down. The air thickened with tension. Dylan’s friends hovered behind him, casting long shadows.

Mira’s heart pounded. Was this stranger actually intending to physically defend her? Dylan had never been in a fight more serious than sniping at other literary figures online, but he had backup, and maybe he and his friends were stupid enough to try something. What if— oh, god —what if this woman got hurt for Mira’s sake?

Then Dylan deflated, apparently realizing that he’d picked the wrong person to fuck with. “All right.”

He shrugged, clearly trying to seem less embarrassed than he was. After one last hostile glare at Mira, he turned and walked away. One of his friends followed. The other one, the one who had been ogling Mira, stared in confusion for a second before scurrying off.

As their backs receded, Mira’s terror drained. Exhaustion came flooding in. She wanted to go home.

But she didn’t have a home. She only had the couch in Vivian’s living room.

The woman turned around. Mira had been standing far too close, and she scrambled to step back. The woman’s well-worn leather jacket and black hair gleamed in the streetlights. There was a carabiner of keys clipped to one of her belt loops. Confronted with this butch who knew exactly how she wanted to move through the world, Mira felt insubstantial, like a leaf swept up by the wind.

“You okay?” the woman asked.

Mira was still stiff with fear. That had been ugly, and it could have been even worse. “Um, yeah, I’m okay.” Her own words were distant, as though they weren’t coming from her. “Thank you,” she remembered to add.

The woman shrugged. She didn’t smile. “You need anything?”

Although she had softened from earlier, the woman’s gaze was still intense. She had dark, serious eyes and strong features that were striking without a trace of makeup. Being on the receiving end of her attention, and having to look up to make eye contact, made goosebumps prickle all over Mira’s skin. “I think I’m okay,” she said automatically. This woman had already done too much, and Mira didn’t want to be further indebted to her. “Um, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She seemed surprised, maybe irritated, that Mira had asked. “Are you here by yourself?”

“No, I’m, uh, I’m with my friends. They’re inside.”

“You going back in?”

Mira shook her head. She needed to go home—to Vivian’s living room—and get under the blankets and cry. She was supposed to be enjoying her freedom from Dylan. Instead, she had crumpled at the sight of him and hid behind this stranger, who had probably never been scared of an awful man even once in her life.

“You need someone to walk you to the subway?” The woman asked.

Mira didn’t want to say yes. But Dylan and his friends had gone in that direction, and she didn’t want to run into them, not alone. And she couldn’t ask Vivian and Frankie. They deserved to have a good time without Mira’s drama, and she couldn’t face going back into the club to find them. She grimaced. “Well, I don’t want to make you go out of your way.”

The woman shrugged again. “I’m heading out, too. You want to go?”

“I— Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

Mira was cold. She had been hugging herself all this time, she realized. Even more than that, she hated being so exposed in this tight dress now that Dylan and his cronies had seen her. She could still feel their gazes clinging to her body.

“A little,” she said.

The woman took off her leather jacket and held it out, offering it to Mira. She was wearing a white T-shirt, tight around her wide shoulders and her generous breasts. Her biceps and forearms were thick and tanned. This woman’s work pants were torn and faded from actual work, most likely. And she probably could have snapped Dylan in half.

She was still holding out her jacket. Mira had been staring. She flushed. She wasn’t into women; it wasn’t like that. But this woman was tough and brave, everything Mira wasn’t and wished she were, and it was hard to tear her eyes away.

She could refuse, but this woman was clearly not interested in a back-and-forth of social niceties. She was being kind to Mira. It would be easiest to go along with it.

“Thank you,” she said, and took the jacket.

It was surprisingly heavy. Mira put it on, trying to ignore her stomach fluttering at the novelty of wearing a stranger’s clothes. The jacket was an oversized cocoon on her, reaching the hem of her dress, and it was warm from the other woman’s body heat.

A sense of calm suffused her. For now, she was safe.

“Thank you so much,” Mira said. “Um, won’t you get cold?”

“Looks like you need it more than I do.”

All right, then. “Well, I’m ready to go.”

They started walking. The woman had long legs, and Mira had to work to keep up in her heels. “Um, thanks again for helping me. I’m Mira, by the way.”

“Isabel.”

“Nice to meet you.” Isabel probably didn’t feel the same way. She’d had her night cut short by a straight girl’s boyfriend drama. “I didn’t know he would be there,” Mira continued, grasping for something to say.

“You don’t have to apologize for him.” Isabel didn’t sound like she was trying to be reassuring. She was simply stating a fact.

And she was right. “I guess not.”

As they walked away from the clubs and bars, the music and laughter faded behind them. On this quiet residential street, the early autumn leaves rustled on the ground with every footstep. Isabel’s keys jingled on her carabiner.

Isabel didn’t seem bothered by the cold. She didn’t seem bothered by anything . She was one of those self-possessed people Mira had seen at the club who knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it. Mira couldn’t stop sneaking glances as Isabel looked straight ahead.

She’d gotten used to the silence when Isabel said, suddenly, “Do you live with him? Is that where you’re going?”

“What? Oh, no. No.” As much of a mess as her life was, it could be worse. “I broke up with him a few weeks ago, and I’m crashing on my friends’ couch right now.” Dylan had called her his girlfriend just now. The word made her stomach churn. How had she actually been his girlfriend for so long? “And I haven’t seen him since the breakup. I guess it still hasn’t gotten through to him that someone could leave him without his approval.”

Isabel snorted. “Sounds like it was about time.”

Mira smiled. It made no difference what a stranger she would never see again thought of her decision, but a weight eased within her all the same. At times in the last three weeks, she’d wondered whether Dylan had truly been bad enough to justify throwing away everything: a nice condo, a measure of safety, a promise of a future where she’d belong to him forever.

All of that had been based on wishful thinking and lies. He’d been cheating on her for months. Even so, when Dylan had been shouting at her tonight, she’d felt a flicker of doubt. Was she being unreasonable?

But now, walking alongside this stranger who had seen the worst of him, the real him, it was hard to remember why she’d ever second-guessed herself.

They walked for another block in silence. Then Isabel said, “You said you’re staying with your friends?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you have a place to go after that?”

Isabel had a funny idea of small talk. “Um, not yet. I’m looking at apartments now, but nothing has worked out.” That was one of the things Mira was trying to take her mind off—trawling Craigslist, sending emails about the few places she could afford, and being ignored or rejected every time. There were two weeks left in September, and she couldn’t possibly impose on Vivian and Frankie beyond that.

Isabel remained silent for a few long seconds. Then she said, “I have a spare room in my apartment in Astoria. Just until my lease runs out. You can take a look if you want.”

“Oh, that’s— How much is it?” Mira couldn’t get her hopes up. She wasn’t going to be able to afford it on her grad student stipend.

“Let’s say eight hundred a month.”

“In a two-bedroom apartment?”

Isabel nodded.

That was suspiciously low. Mira had trusted Isabel out of instinct, but maybe she shouldn’t have. As if sensing her doubts, Isabel continued, “There’s nothing wrong with the room. It’s just small. I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

It was probably better than the windowless bedroom Mira had lived in before Dylan’s condo. “How small is it?”

“You could fit a full bed with a little space to walk around.”

That wasn’t so bad, especially if Mira got a twin bed. She wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone anytime soon. “Who’s living there now?”

“No one in the last few months. Before that…” For the first time tonight, Isabel seemed hesitant. “I lived with someone, and it was her painting studio.”

So they were in the same situation. Mira felt a strangely intense pang of sympathy. Isabel said stiffly, “I can’t afford the rent on my own anymore, but I don’t want to charge anyone more than I have to. I haven’t been looking for someone until now, but I figured… I’m moving out at the end of the year. You can have the room until then.”

“Thanks. Um, that sounds like it could work.” There was no reason to not see the place, at least. “It’s not easy to find housing as a broke trans girl in this city,” Mira added, trying to keep her tone casual as she voiced the miserable, infuriating truth. She needed to be sure Isabel knew she was trans. It wasn’t fair that she had to protect herself this way, but no part of this was fair.

“I’m sorry for that.” If Isabel had any kind of problem with Mira, her stony demeanor didn’t show it.

Mira relaxed slightly. Maybe this would work out. They clearly weren’t going to be friends, which was fine. They’d live together for a few months, Mira would get back on her feet, and they would go their separate ways.

They exchanged numbers next to the subway entrance. Isabel was headed in the other direction. “Thanks again for everything,” Mira said.

Isabel nodded. A single stud earring in her right ear glinted in the light. “Take care.”

Mira smiled. “Have a good night.” She turned to go down the stairs.

“Can I have my jacket back?”

Mira turned around, embarrassed. There was the barest trace of a smile on Isabel’s face. Mira’s stomach did a flip.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing. She took off the jacket and gave it back to Isabel.

Isabel slipped it back on her impressively muscular shoulders in one easy motion. For her size and obvious strength, her body was so graceful. “Get home safe,” she said, and turned to cross the street.

She walked away, her hair a dark waterfall down her back, her work pants tight over her thick curves. Mira lingered by the subway entrance and watched her. What was it like to move through the world knowing it was your right to take up space? What had Isabel’s girlfriend been like? Had they broken each other’s hearts?

A gust of wind chilled her. She wasn’t wearing Isabel’s jacket anymore. She turned and went down the stairs.