Make Room for Love

Chapter 14

14

The weekend subway schedule truly had it out for her. Mira emerged into the gray November drizzle after an hour and a half, two boroughs, and three transfers. She took out her phone, trying to get her bearings in this unfamiliar neighborhood.

There was a text from one of the people whose apartment she was about to see. Raindrops beaded up on her phone screen. Hi, we’re sorry, but someone just put down a deposit for the room. Apologies for the last-minute update.

Mira made a hopeless strangled noise. She tried to quell her frustration. They’d probably had dozens of applicants for the room and had just wanted to pick someone as quickly as possible. At least they weren’t going to give her a tour while knowing they were wasting her time.

But this was a bad start to her second day of looking at apartments, after a bad first day of meeting a scammer, meeting a creep, encountering a bizarre intra-apartment love triangle gone wrong—hence the need for a new roommate—and, finally, meeting a different type of scammer. She stopped for a coffee, as though that would make the trip less fruitless, and went back into the subway station.

The next apartment, an hour away, was promising enough that Mira allowed herself some optimism for once. It was on the fifth floor with no elevator, and the room wasn’t much bigger than her current one, but at least it was close to campus.

She met the roommates, all around her age, who were superficially polite and questioned her with such obvious, barely veiled suspicion that Mira shook with anger as she made her way back down the stairs. She knew what it meant when people looked at her like that. They didn’t want her there, couldn’t admit to themselves that it was because she was trans, and were scrambling to invent other reasons to disqualify her.

A familiar instinct had reared its head, to make herself as meek and small as possible, even as she’d known that they were in the wrong. She’d managed to resist: She’d stood up, curtly thanked them for their time, and walked out.

That was something she might not have done back in September, when she’d been crushed by the breakup and by the last two years. At least she’d had these precious months to start picking herself back up. It was a bitter victory. But her shoulders relaxed only after she walked back out into the cold rain and let herself breathe.

She longed to go home—which was to say, back to Isabel’s apartment. Isabel wasn’t superficially polite; she was barely polite at all. But she was honest even when she was gruff, and she had always been fundamentally decent to Mira in a way no amount of overcompensating niceness could substitute for.

There was more to Isabel than basic decency. But it was infuriating that the bar was so low.

On to the next apartment. The bedroom had no window, which had not been clear from the photos but did explain why it was so affordable. Not again. In a better mood, Mira might have considered it, but she wished the current inhabitants good luck and went on her way.

Another subway ride, and then an artist with three beautiful, cuddly long-haired cats who hadn’t been mentioned in the ad. They climbed all over Mira as she introduced herself for the third time that day, eyes watering. She sneezed profusely on the train to the next apartment, cat hair clinging to her clothes. Allergy meds weren’t going to cut it. She was going to be sneezing for days.

On the train, a text from Isabel arrived. When are you getting home?

Mira was overcome by longing so hot it bordered on frustration. She could have gotten used to grading papers while Isabel read on the couch, and waking up to good coffee every morning, and occasionally having dinner together and going on walks to the park. It was the quiet life she’d wanted, forever out of reach.

Mira texted her back. Another notification popped up. The apartment she was about to see had “just been taken.” But was Mira free to see a different apartment all the way across the city?

No, she was not. Someone had tried to pull this scam on her yesterday. Who the hell did they think she was? After the day she’d had, she let herself indulge in some righteous anger. But she was relieved, too.

She opened up her texts with Isabel again. Actually, I’ll be back earlier than that. She could finally go home.

Isabel had been too ambitious. She was a competent cook. But it had been too long since she’d put in the effort, and Mira had put things back in the cabinets seemingly at random. Dinner was coming together more slowly than Isabel wanted.

The door unlocked behind her, and she turned around. Mira entered, soggy from the rain, worn out after another day of apartment hunting. She greeted Isabel and slipped her coat off. “That smells good. What are you making?”

Isabel hesitated. The answer was that she was cooking for Mira again. It had been embarrassing to make her the most basic fried rice imaginable the other night with whatever vegetables Isabel had scrounged up from the freezer. It was one thing for Isabel to make it for herself, and another thing to serve it to Mira, as though she couldn’t do any better.

And it was about time that something was easy for Mira. She deserved to just come home and sit down to a nice dinner, for once, no matter what else was going on in her life. “I, uh… I was just making dinner for myself. You can have some if you want.”

“Oh my goodness, you’re wonderful,” Mira said. She was joking, but Isabel’s chest fluttered regardless. This was why being around Mira was dangerous. “I don’t intend to make a habit of having you cook for me,” Mira continued. “I’ve just had an awful weekend.”

“That bad?” For months, all Isabel had looked forward to was moving out. But reality was looming for her, too. Soon, she’d have to pack up everything and move into some barren new apartment. She’d be living alone. That didn’t comfort her the way it used to.

“Yeah, it was. Can I help you at all?”

“I’m fine,” Isabel said instinctively. Then she glanced at the pea leaves and bitter melon yet to be washed and chopped. She hadn’t started the rice, either. She sighed. “Actually…”

“I do know how to cook, you know. I don’t just eat whatever my roommate makes for dinner.”

Isabel smiled. “Do you want to wash and roughly chop those?” She nodded toward the big bundle of pea leaves.

The kitchen wasn’t big, and Isabel didn’t usually like to share. Her ex had hated cooking, so it hadn’t been a problem, but she had sometimes shooed even her mom and sisters out of the kitchen during their visits. No matter how much she craved being around Mira, she was preparing to grit her teeth at least a little.

But they made room for each other, Mira washing the pea leaves in the sink in the big colander as Isabel scooped rice into the rice cooker. It was such a simple pleasure to measure out enough for two people. She stepped to the side as Mira started chopping the pea leaves next to her, their arms and hips almost touching.

Mira was sneezing more than usual. Hopefully she wasn’t getting sick. But if she was, at least Isabel would be around to take care of her.

“Do you want it smaller than this?” Mira asked, holding up a piece. “What are these greens, by the way?”

“No, that’s good. They’re pea leaves.” Isabel walked behind her to rinse the rice in the sink, and Mira made room. Isabel let the milky-white water run down the drain, distracted by Mira’s elegant hands and her dark blue nails as she worked. “They taste like peas. You’ll see.”

She turned on the rice cooker as Mira continued chopping. Once Mira was done, she turned to the knobby bitter melon. “I haven’t had pavakkai since my dad made it for me. You know, I haven’t really thought about what it’s called in English, since I’ve never tried to buy it.”

“You don’t like it? I didn’t know it’s used in Indian food. I was wondering what you’d think.” Isabel wasn’t doing a great job of pretending she hadn’t made all this for Mira, but maybe it didn’t matter.

“I don’t mean that,” Mira said. She cored the bitter melon and started chopping it into half-moons. Not what Isabel would have done, but that was fine. “I’m sure I’ll like the way you cook it.”

Isabel smiled. She leaned against the counter, taking a break to watch Mira work. Her hair was damp and frizzy from the rain, and she had on a silky blouse, a pencil skirt, and dark tights, slightly sheer in that way that highlighted every curve of her legs. She’d been trying to make a good impression today, not that it had done her much good. Her feet were otherwise bare on Isabel’s scuffed kitchen floor.

Isabel wanted to get her out of those constricting clothes and wrap her in a fluffy robe. Unwrap her once she was warm and dry. Make her feel nice and relaxed like she had nothing in the world to worry about. Kiss her good night, let her sleep, wake up to her in this apartment every morning.

Isabel’s fantasies were spiraling out of control again. She mentally caught back up to their conversation. “So, do you speak— What language does your dad speak?”

“My dad speaks five or six languages. He has family all over South India, and he has a Ph.D.in history. But he made sure I learned Tamil. Not that I speak it as well as I want to.” So everyone said. Isabel was lucky she could still talk with her grandmother easily. “He’s always getting on my case about how Tamil is the oldest classical language. Older than Greek and Latin.”

“Huh. Did you ever think about studying that?”

“Maybe once I get tenure.” Mira’s smile was sardonic. “Right now I’m just trying to get through the next year.”

Mira made quick work of the bitter melon. She sliced the mushrooms while Isabel tossed the pea leaves in a hot wok with garlic and they turned a glossy, vivid green. Next came the bitter melon, stir-fried with the mushrooms—Isabel had never made this without beef, but she could probably stand to eat less meat. “Thanks for letting me cook with you,” Mira said, as though she needed to thank Isabel for that. “I could use the distraction.”

“What happened?”

Isabel had forgotten how awful apartment-hunting could be. Mira wasn’t done talking by the time they carried the food to the dining table: the rice, the pea shoots, the bitter melon, and braised tofu in a sticky red-brown sauce that Isabel thought might work as well on tofu as on meat. It was all Cantonese food you’d have at home on a regular night. Nothing special, Isabel told herself.

They sat down to eat together for the second time that week. Isabel could get used to this. She pushed the thought down. “Oh,” Mira said, “I forgot to mention the love triangle from yesterday. Probably because I was trying to forget about it as fast as possible.”

Isabel raised an eyebrow. Mira grimaced. “I met these two women who were sharing one of the two rooms in the apartment. They wanted someone to fill the empty room. It seemed promising at first. Until I asked them why their current roommate was leaving. And it turned out she’d been dating one of the members of the couple until a few weeks ago. They’d been living in a room together, and when they broke up…”

Understanding dawned on Isabel. “So she replaced her girlfriend with her other roommate. And they all had to switch rooms.”

“Well, when you put it that way…yes.” They exchanged mock-horrified looks. “And then the ex-girlfriend came home while I was there.”

Lesbian drama was the one constant of the universe. Mira told the rest of the story—angry words, wild accusations, Mira managing to calm everyone down simply by being the only reasonable person there—more generously than Isabel would have told it. “They were nice otherwise, believe it or not.” Mira shook her head. “The new couple was very much in love. Making eyes at each other the entire time.”

Isabel laughed. “No.”

“They were.”

“You’d better not seduce either of them, then,” Isabel said, before she could stop to think. For a heart-stopping moment, she was terrified—had she gone too far and revealed herself? Then Mira let out a loud, undignified laugh, her face lighting up, her curls bouncing.

Isabel was so screwed. She was digging herself deeper into this hole. Her only hope was that after a few more weeks, she’d never see Mira again.

Mira recovered, but she was still smiling. “Don’t even joke. Oh my goodness, can you imagine?”

Could Isabel imagine one of Mira’s roommates falling for her and blowing everything up? Yes, she could. “So you said no to them.”

“Well…I didn’t.” Mira sighed, slumping forward. “I don’t have a lot of choices. The bedroom has a window, and they weren’t scammers, and neither of them was a creep. Anyway, it’s down to these lovebirds and Vivian’s friend in Bushwick. Apparently the cats liked someone else more. I would have been too allergic to live with them, but it really adds insult to injury.”

Isabel sobered up. “Good luck.” Looking for a new place would be a pain for her, too. But at least she had enough money to live by herself, and she would have better choices. None of this was fair.

She’d keep taking care of Mira in whatever small ways she could. The food they’d cooked together was delicious, and Mira had helped herself to seconds of everything, even the bitter melon, which was gratifying.

This wouldn’t last. But for now, they could still share a homey dinner on a cold, rainy night, and Isabel was going to savor it while she could.

Mira’s phone buzzed. “Sorry,” she said. “Do you mind if I… I’m anxious to hear back.”

“Go ahead.”

Mira picked up her phone. Judging from her expression, the news was bad. “Vivian’s friend found someone else.” She put her head in her hands.

It hurt to see Mira struggling when there was nothing more Isabel could do to help. She had already asked everyone she could think of. She had even texted Grace, swallowing her pride after they hadn’t talked for months. They still weren’t talking, but it had been a relief that Grace had curtly responded at all. “Sorry,” Isabel said.

“It’s okay.” Mira didn’t even bother trying to sound convincing.

Her phone buzzed again. “Oh. It’s the love triangle apartment.” She scoffed. “They want to offer me the room.” She stared at her phone screen, then shook her head. “I’m not going to take it. I have a bad feeling about it. I mean, what if they do break up?”

She started typing on her phone, and then put it down. “I can’t text them right now. I’m in too bad of a mood to be nice to them.”

“I doubt it,” Isabel said.

“What do you mean?”

“You probably won’t be rude to them unless you’re trying to be. You’re too nice for that.” Mira frowned. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Isabel added. “You’ll feel better if you get it over with.”

“That’s true. And I don’t want to second-guess myself.” Mira picked up her phone again, and typed and retyped for over a minute before setting it down. “And now I’m right back where I started. Maybe next weekend there’ll be openings for December 15th, too. I’ll just have to keep trying.”

Isabel nodded. They continued eating. Then Mira said, “I was thinking… I don’t know if this is a bad idea.”

“What is it?”

“What if I stayed in the apartment, and found someone else to take your bedroom? I know that’s easier said than done. Especially because, honestly, I think I’d have to start paying more in rent. You’ve been really generous.” Mira smiled weakly. “You wouldn’t have to deal with the landlord showing people the apartment while you’re trying to pack. Just me doing it.”

Isabel gaped at her. There was another solution staring them in the face, so tempting that Isabel was afraid to think about it. She couldn’t hurt Mira if Mira was moving out in a few weeks.

But if they lived together for the next year …

She had to calm down. Mira wasn’t asking her to stay. Maybe Mira had assumed, reasonably, that Isabel didn’t want to. Or maybe she didn’t actually want Isabel as a roommate any longer. Mira could get along with just about anyone, and she might want a nicer roommate with less baggage. Isabel wasn’t going to put her in the position of having to say which it was.

“Sure,” Isabel said. “If you want to find someone else to renew the lease with, I won’t stop you. It might make it easier for me if you took some of my things. I have a lot I don’t need.”

“I can do that. That’s kind of you.”

“I’ll call the rental office, but you’ll have to find someone soon. They’ll start showing the place on December 1st.”

Mira opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it. Finally, she said, “Okay. I’ll try my best.”