Make Room for Love

Chapter 15

15

On the train back to the city, Isabel came closer to crying than she had in a long time. Her grief was just below the surface, raw and frightening and unmanageable, threatening to break through her numbness. But the tears didn’t fall.

It was a long ride back to her stop, and the sky darkened as the train rumbled through Long Island. Isabel hated this time of year. She hated how the nights grew longer and the cold worked its way into her bones. She hated counting down the days until the anniversary of Alexa’s death. This was only the second year of the rest of her life without her sister. How was she supposed to go on living like this?

Seeing her family had been as painful as she’d feared: Grace pointedly not speaking to her while their parents and grandmother looked on with disappointment. All of them silently remembering Thanksgiving two years ago, the last time they would all be together ever again. Staying the night at her parents’ invitation, knowing it was more for them than for her. Seeing her mother’s hair turning gray and her father struggling with his back pain. She had done some repairs around the house for them this morning, grateful for the opportunity to be useful, trying to not think about how her parents would need her even more as they got older.

She wanted to be home. At her stop, she trudged to the subway, gritting her teeth at the loud, excited people with their Black Friday shopping bags.

Would Mira be home? Did she want Mira to be home? She didn’t want Mira to see her like this. But coming home to a dark, empty apartment might be even worse.

When she turned onto her block, the light was on in the window. Isabel was relieved, and then surprised by her own reaction. At the door to the apartment, she took a second to pull herself together.

Then an unfamiliar voice came from inside.

Right. Mira was showing the apartment to people this evening. Isabel’s jealousy surged. That was her home, and Mira was her ?—

Mira wasn’t her anything.

Frustration and exhaustion overwhelmed her. She had no idea how she felt about seeing Mira, but facing a stranger would be unbearable. The ladder to the roof hatch was just outside their door. It was narrow, rickety, and probably not up to code, to the point where it always made Isabel nervous. But now, without stopping to think, she started climbing.

At the top, she unlatched the door with one hand and pulled herself up through the hatch. The wind was bracing. She closed the hatch most of the way and sat on the elevated rim. It was too cold to be comfortable, but maybe Isabel deserved it. She was alone in the darkness, cut off from the world below.

She’d been so eager to leave the apartment and its memories behind. But now all she wanted to do was take refuge inside it. Thinking about Mira finding someone to take her place felt like prodding at a bruise.

She was going to miss hearing about Mira’s union organizing—something that gave Isabel hope, even from the sidelines, when so little else in her life did. She was going to miss having someone to cook for. She knew herself well enough to know that she’d go back to eating fried rice and ramen every night.

She was going to miss Mira. The way she could be so soft, and then so sharp and funny in an instant. The way she made Isabel ache, which was better than being numb for all those months before she’d caught sight of Mira under the streetlights. Isabel hadn’t known it then, but it was the moment when her life as she knew it had begun to come apart.

There was a thump below her like someone was trying to climb up. Isabel stood up, shaken from her thoughts, and opened the hatch. Mira was more than halfway up the narrow ladder, clinging to it like she’d never climbed a ladder in her life. Her eyes widened when she saw Isabel.

Isabel called down, “What are you doing up here?”

“Sorry,” Mira said. “I thought you might have come to the door, so I came out and saw that the roof hatch was open. And I texted you but you didn’t reply.” Isabel had been too deep in her thoughts to notice. “I wanted to see what was going on. Are you okay?”

Mira had cared enough to check up on her. Isabel was rattled, and more grateful than she could say. “Yeah. Sorry to make you worried. Can you get down by yourself?”

Mira looked down and recoiled. “I think so. I’m a little afraid of heights.”

“I don’t want you to fall. Come up and I’ll help you down.”

Mira nodded grimly. She climbed until she was gripping the spindly top rung. Isabel held out her hand. “Hold on to me.”

Mira took her hand cautiously, and the contact sent heat all the way down Isabel’s body. Mira’s grip was tentative at first, but she put more weight on it once she sensed Isabel’s sturdiness. Isabel braced herself, and together they got Mira through the hatch.

The warmth of Mira’s hand lingered after she let go. Mira was still the only person Isabel had touched in months, apart from when she’d hugged her parents hello and goodbye.

Mira was breathing hard, clouding up the chilly air. She gingerly turned around. “This is a gorgeous view.” Considering that she’d lived in a high-rise, her appreciation sounded surprisingly genuine. “Oh, the moon’s out.”

Isabel turned too. The moon was a crescent low in the sky, bright through misty clouds. She had missed it earlier.

“Did you come up here because I was giving someone a tour?” Mira asked. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I just wanted some fresh air.” Isabel inhaled deeply, letting the chill settle in her lungs.

“How was Thanksgiving?”

Isabel opened her mouth, but nothing came out for several seconds. Mira said, “I can leave you alone. Though I think I need some help getting back down.”

“Stay if you want. It’s up to you.” Mira was dragging her into the land of the living, and Isabel didn’t want to admit how desperately she needed it.

Mira looked hesitant. Isabel lowered herself to sit on the edge of the hatch again, going slowly to avoid irritating her bad knee in this weather. After a moment, Mira sat next to her. There wasn’t much room. Mira settled in, and then their arms were resting against each other.

Isabel’s heart sped up. All her senses were overwhelmed by Mira—the pressure of Mira’s arm through their thick coats, the scent of her shampoo, the heat of her body. Isabel had been starving for the most basic physical touch, and every fleeting contact made her want more. Not just sex. Even being able to hold Mira, to feel her warmth skin-to-skin on these winter nights, would be everything in the world.

Isabel sucked in a breath of icy air. She had to calm down. Such stupid, unbearable yearning. “How was your Thanksgiving?” she asked, not wanting Mira to feel unwelcome.

“Same as always. My mom was in town very briefly. She had a layover before she went off to report on migrant workers in Spain. It was nice to see her for the forty-five minutes she was at dinner.” Mira shifted her long, graceful legs, making herself more comfortable, and Isabel was jolted by every small movement of Mira’s arm against hers. “My bubbe always makes Tofurky for me and my vegetarian cousin, even though we always tell her she doesn’t have to and we can eat sides. So we have to eat it to be polite. And I had to take the leftovers home this time because my cousin did it last year. I had Tofurky sandwiches for lunch and dinner and there’s still more.”

Isabel laughed. The weight on her chest eased slightly. “You should let me try it. I haven’t eaten yet.”

“It’s all yours. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They sat in silence, looking at the city lights. Isabel said, “Aren’t you cold in those tights?”

“I’ve gotten used to it.” Mira pursed her lips. “Well, maybe a little.”

Isabel unwound the thick wool scarf from her neck, zipped up her coat to compensate, and draped the scarf over Mira’s legs. Mira smiled. “Okay, you got me. That is better. Thank you.” She edged closer, pressing her leg close, and draped the other end over Isabel’s lap. “You must also be cold. Your jeans can’t be that much warmer.”

That was true. But Isabel was burning everywhere they touched. Her heart thudded so loudly that she worried Mira might hear it.

Mira said, “I’m guessing you didn’t have a good time with your family. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my fault.” At that, Mira frowned. Isabel continued, “I got into an argument with my little sister Grace a few months ago. It’s why I’ve been so…” She didn’t have the words to describe what the last several months had been like for her. She shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” Mira said. “I know how much you love your family. This must be terribly difficult for you.”

Isabel looked away. She didn’t deserve Mira’s tenderness. Mira didn’t know the first thing about her and her family. “Grace deserves a better older sister than me,” she said, with so much venom that she surprised herself. “But I’m all she has now, and it’s not fair to her, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Mira was silent. Then she wriggled under the scarf, took out her phone, and said, “I’m going to cancel on the other people who were going to visit the apartment tonight. And then you can tell me more.”

“No, don’t,” Isabel said, but Mira was already texting.

“I just did.” Mira put her phone back in her pocket. “Why are you saying that?”

Mira was being too kind. Isabel had to tell her the truth and put an end to it. “Grace is getting married to her boyfriend Kevin in June. Her fiancé, I mean. I don’t like him. They’re both a couple years out of college, and she’s been working hard as a vet tech to support herself. Kevin doesn’t do anything. He works part-time and lives with his parents and streams himself playing video games online. When I was his age, I was making 30 percent wages as an apprentice and working a second job after night school.”

Isabel’s indignation was rising dangerously. She was getting off-track. “Anyway, my sister loves him, and I respect that.” She didn’t even sound convincing to herself. “When Grace told me they got engaged, I tried to raise my concerns about him and told her that she should be with someone who’ll pull his weight and act like a grown adult.”

Mira nodded, frowning.

“It was bad. And I didn’t mean for it to become so ugly. But I said…” Isabel looked away, unable to meet Mira’s gaze. “I told her that Alexa wouldn’t want her to marry him either, if she were still here.” The shame of the memory burned. “I knew how bad it was as soon as I said it. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She kept her gaze on the rooftops. “I fucked up so badly. Grace is the only sister I have left, and she’s getting married and starting a whole new life with him, and she won’t let me apologize and didn’t tell me when she scheduled her wedding. And she wouldn’t talk to me at Thanksgiving, and she didn’t ask me to be her bridesmaid even though we all— We all promised each other?—”

She took a few shaky breaths, forcing everything back down. She couldn’t cry in front of Mira. She could not.

“I’m so sorry, Isabel,” Mira said.

Mira’s unrelenting kindness was too much. It might have hurt less if Mira had just gotten up and left her alone. “I don’t need you to pity or coddle me. I know I fucked up.”

“I’m not pitying or coddling you.” Mira’s tone was still gentle, but with a sharp enough edge that Isabel turned to look at her.

Mira’s beautiful dark eyes were full of concern. Isabel was exhausted, and she was weak, and she wanted to drop to her knees with her head on Mira’s lap. She was losing control of herself.

Mira said, “Do you want me to tell you that you shouldn’t have said that?”

“You’d be right.”

“You shouldn’t have said it.” Mira sounded sincere, but there was no reproach in her voice. “I’m sorry. I know you love her and you want the best for her.”

“I do.” It was ridiculous to tell all this to Mira. But she had no one else to talk to aside from Cat, who was equally close with Grace and hated being their go-between. Now that Isabel had started, she couldn’t hold herself back from spilling everything. “Alexa would have wanted the best for her, too. That’s what I meant to say. But I said it in the worst way possible and I don’t blame Grace for anything.”

The moment Isabel’s life had truly changed had not been hearing the news. It had been seeing her family at the funeral, her parents looking older and frailer than she had ever imagined, Grace looking afraid and lost, all of them desolate. She had understood, in that moment, that she would be the one taking care of all of them from now on. There was no one else. And she wasn’t good enough.

“I don’t even know how to apologize to her.” Isabel ached from the effort of holding back tears, but she needed to say this. Part of her craved more of Mira’s tenderness, and part of her wanted Mira to run away after learning the truth. “I know Grace doesn’t just want me to apologize for what I said about Alexa. She wants me to apologize for saying what I said about her fiancé in the first place. And I can’t, and I told her I wouldn’t. I can’t lie to her.”

“Is that how you see it?” Mira said gently. “Either you’re honest with your sister, and you make her upset by telling her the truth she needs to hear, or you’re lying to her?”

When Mira put it that way, Isabel’s reasoning somehow seemed flawed, too simple. But what other option was there? “I guess so. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Do you think your sister is in danger with him?”

“No.He’s lazy, not abusive.” Isabel sighed. Maybe she needed some perspective. “I know it could be much worse. I should be grateful for that.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, I should keep that in mind, anyway. I know I’m alone in this. Even my parents have basically come around to him. God knows what they see in him. It’s not as though he has a great personality, as far as I can tell. Every time I’ve tried to talk to him, he hasn’t spoken more than five words.” At that, Mira smiled. “What?”

“Nothing.” After a second, Mira continued, “It’s just that if I were in his position, I would find you intimidating.”

Isabel couldn’t help laughing. The shame, the despair, the self-righteous anger loosened their grip on her. What remained was sadness and doubt. There was no easy way out of this, whatever she did.

“I just want Grace to have a good life.” Isabel faced Mira, who was still patiently listening. “She’s been through so much. She was just a few months out of college when Alexa died, and I know she misses her as much as I do, even though she rarely talks to me about it. I just want her to have a husband who will take care of her, not someone she has to spend all her time supporting. That’s what she deserves.”

“I know.” No judgment, no reproach, no false platitudes. It would have been easier if Mira had told her she was an irredeemably awful sister and person. Or that Isabel was right about everything—but she knew she wasn’t, even if she didn’t know how to fix it, and Mira wouldn’t lie to her.

Mira continued, “I was about the same age as Grace, it sounds like, when I started seeing Dylan. And Vivian and Frankie knew from the very beginning that he was terrible, and they tried to talk me out of it. But, ultimately, I think it’s hard to protect the people we love from that kind of pain, even though my friends did their best. It doesn’t sound like Grace’s fiancé is that bad, or at least I really hope not. But I think he could step up and surprise all of you. Or he could have seemed wonderful at first, and then turned out to be awful. Or something else could happen that’s entirely out of your control or anyone else’s.”

Isabel nodded. She knew that all too well. She was reminded, too, that Mira’s sweetness didn’t come from being naive. “I know you want to protect Grace,” Mira said. “To be honest, I’m not sure there’s anything Vivian and Frankie could have said that would have convinced me to not move in with him. What would have made a difference was not being broke.” She smiled ruefully. “But they did decide to be there for me the whole time I was with him, and they made sure I knew that.”

The message was clear. Isabel put her face in her hands. “I need to apologize to her.” Despair crept back in. How the hell was she going to do that? “I want her to know I’ll always be there for her. But maybe she’s right to not think so. Because I haven’t been. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mira said. So good, so kind. “I know how much you care about her. I hope you’ll find a way.”

Somehow, while talking, they’d leaned further into each other. Now they were pressed together from their shoulders down to their calves. Isabel didn’t want to move, didn’t want to lose Mira’s warmth, didn’t want to stop touching Mira. If only she could have all she wanted. Holding Mira and being held, letting herself be understood.

She was afraid to look at Mira—it might shatter the fragile moment. Instead, she stared at the city below, unseeing, as Mira warmed the left side of her body like a furnace.

She felt lighter. Telling Mira about the shame that’d been festering in her for months had helped ease it a little. She’d told Mira, and Mira hadn’t run away.

Mira shifted her limbs. Isabel was taken by surprise. How long had they been sitting here? The last of the sunset had vanished, and it was fully nighttime.

She turned toward Mira at last. Mira was looking at the rooftops, and Isabel studied the features she knew so well: Mira’s deep brown eyes, her long lashes made even more dramatic by mascara, the elegant line of her nose, the soft, full curve of her mouth. Isabel was used to stealing glances. But then Mira turned, too, and their eyes met.

The clouds of their breaths mingled in the cold air. Isabel’s heart quickened. She had gotten used to Mira leaning against her, but now she was acutely aware of it again, and electricity tingled everywhere they touched. Mira’s lips parted, and Isabel caught herself staring. She looked back up at Mira’s eyes after a moment too long.

“So, I was thinking,” Mira said, startling Isabel. For a second, she’d wondered whether something else might happen. Like Mira kissing her. She was losing her mind.

Thank god Isabel would be out of here soon. The thought gave her no joy at all. She caught up to Mira’s words. “Yeah?”

“Would you consider staying in this apartment for another year?”