Make Room for Love

Chapter 16

16

Isabel said nothing. With every passing second, Mira’s stomach sank further. She had ached for Isabel—for her seriousness and devotion toward the people she loved, for her guilt and pain at the very real mistake she’d made, for the vulnerability she had let Mira glimpse.

And when they’d looked at each other just now, there had been a spark Mira didn’t know how to describe.

A shared understanding, maybe. A sense that they could be more than roommates to each other. A hope for a quiet, stable friendship and the assurance that they could look after each other even as they lived their own lives. And a wild craving—one that unsettled her—to have more of Isabel, to peel off more layers and see what was underneath. Mira couldn’t explain or justify any of it.

At the end of the day, they were roommates, and Isabel had her own reasons for moving on.

“Never mind,” Mira said. “I know why you wanted to leave this apartment. You’re free to say no. I’m sorry. It was just an idea.”

Isabel moved away. Without Isabel’s warm, solid body against hers, the cold set in. One last unpleasant reality check. Mira took the hint and moved away too.

“I don’t know,” Isabel said.

“Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Isabel hunched into herself. “I’m not saying no. I really don’t know.”

Mira remained silent. Even if Isabel was considering it, she wouldn’t want to decide now, after she’d had such a hard day. Some part of Mira longed to put an arm around Isabel, but it clearly wouldn’t be welcome. Isabel was only a few inches away, but she was far out of Mira’s reach.

“Thanks for the talk,” Isabel said, not looking at her. “Let’s go back down.”

So Isabel wanted to be alone. Mira didn’t begrudge her that, even if it was now clear how much Isabel tormented herself in private. “Of course. Any time, okay?” She gave Isabel her scarf back, and Isabel wrapped it around her neck again. “Thank you for the scarf. Um, how do we—I should say, how do I get back down?”

“I’ll go ahead of you. You can watch me get back on the ladder, and then do what I do.” Isabel opened the hatch, and light spilled out from below. “If you fall, you’ll have something to fall onto.”

“But I don’t want to crush you.”

“Then you’d better not fall.”

Mira smiled. She stood up, her legs stiff. Isabel swung one leg over the edge, followed by the other, and disappeared down the hatch. Once again, Mira was startled by the nimble, powerful way she moved. She’d been standing on the roof just a moment ago.

“Your turn,” she yelled from below.

This was much harder than Isabel had made it look. Mira crouched down, gripped the metal edge of the hatch with frozen fingers, and forced herself to get her leg over the edge. She waved her leg around for a few nerve-wracking seconds, with nothing underneath her, until her foot found the rung.

She wasn’t as stable as she would have liked. Her ankle boots with a bit of a heel had been a bad choice. But when she’d seen the hatch open, she’d been so worried that she hadn’t stopped to think.

“You got it,” Isabel said, a few feet down.

Mira held on to the edge for dear life, got her other leg down, and flailed until that foot caught a rung, too. She took one hand off the edge and gripped the ladder, then did the same with her other hand.

“Looks good,” Isabel said. “That was the hardest part. You can come down now.”

Mira glanced at the open hatch. “Should I…”

“I’ll get it later.”

Mira moved one foot down, and then another. She looked down—there was Isabel, and beyond her, the floor of the apartment hallway very far away. Mira’s terror spiked.

“Don’t look down if you’re nervous,” Isabel said. “I’m right here.”

Mira breathed in, then out. No need to look down. Isabel was right there. She took it one rung at a time as Isabel descended below her, the rungs wobbling from their weight.

She heard Isabel get off the ladder. If Mira fell now, she’d fall right onto Isabel, and Isabel would catch her— The thought made her so woozy she almost slipped. She held on. A few more rungs, and then she was on solid ground again, her legs wobbly.

At least she hadn’t embarrassed herself too badly. She gave Isabel a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

Isabel nodded, clearly preoccupied. She went up again to close the hatch. Mira stole a glimpse of her ascending, rugged and graceful at once, before unlocking the door and going back inside.

She took a few more breaths to settle her nerves, then started making tea in Isabel’s beautiful glass teapot, the one Alexa had given her. Isabel had been using it more often these days. It was the perfect size for two. Isabel could drink her tea in her room if she wanted to be alone.

But when Isabel returned, she didn’t retreat into her room. She lingered in the living room, standing with her hands in her pockets, as though she couldn’t make up her mind. That was rare for her. A strange silence filled the apartment, less comfortable than what Mira had grown used to.

Isabel said, finally, “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”

“You can always ask.” After a moment, Mira added, “If I don’t want to answer, I’ll let you know.”

Isabel hesitated, drawing out the silence. “Why’d you start dating Dylan in the first place?”

Was that what Isabel was so preoccupied with? It was unlikely. “Are you asking because of your sister?”

“It’s not that.” She looked at the floor. “When you were talking about him earlier… I was just wondering what you saw in him, if there was anything.”

Mira had been asking herself that, too. The question was so tangled up in her self-blame that she didn’t know if she could answer for her own sake, let alone for Isabel’s.

But she wanted to try, if only for herself. Maybe Isabel wouldn’t understand. But for all her rough edges, she’d never secretly pitied or condemned Mira for her choices. Isabel was a straightforward person, and that wasn’t how she operated. Mira understood that now.

And this was a night for sharing messy secrets. It was just the two of them—and the grief and guilt that haunted Isabel, and the shame and doubt that haunted Mira, and this strange silence between them.

“You can ask,” Mira said. She sighed. Where to even start? “I met him at a party in my third year of grad school. It was mostly, you know, ‘cool’ grad students and artists and literary people in a loft somewhere. He saw me and started talking to me.” Dylan had gotten too close, asking her questions that were too personal. She still remembered the heady, frightening realization: He’s acting like this because he wants me. “I’d read his novel. And I didn’t think much of it. But everyone else had loved it, and I thought…”

Isabel nodded solemnly. Mira had to go on. The truth was lodged in her like a thorn, and she had to pull it out. “I thought that if a real writer like him was interested in me, it meant that I mattered. That I was this beautiful, sparkling, clever girl at a party and he wasn’t hopelessly out of my league. And that he thought I was attractive because of what I had to say, about my research, about books, about whatever else we talked about. Not just because he saw how vulnerable I was.”

She clutched the table behind her and took a shaky breath. She was at home, and she was safe, and she would never, ever have to go back to him. “I wasn’t stupid. I knew that was part of it. And I knew I would never be allowed to be as clever, or as important, or as much of a person as he was. I just didn’t know how bad it would get. I couldn’t have known.”

Isabel shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

The kettle turned off. Mira poured hot water into the teapot, still on edge from all she’d said. Isabel remained silent, which Mira was grateful for. Right now, she didn’t need Isabel telling her she hadn’t deserved it, or that she’d been too good for him. She already knew. That wasn’t what was at stake.

Somehow, the fact that she’d wanted Dylan was the hardest thing to face. It meant admitting that she’d ever wanted anything at all. To have someone see her as both smart and beautiful. To be taken care of, to matter, to be loved.

She wasn’t ready to date again. She needed to be single for a good, long time. But some stubborn, reckless part of her couldn’t stop wanting. She had more than enough reason to be cynical. But she still yearned for someone who would sweep her off her feet and take her seriously at the same time. Someone who would laugh with her, cook with her, talk about books with her, share easy, quiet nights with her. Someone like?—

Isabel said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Her voice was so strained that Mira turned around. Isabel was stiff, her face unreadable. Which meant she was hiding something immense.

Mira racked her brain for possibilities and came up with nothing. “What is it?”

“I want to make it clear I’m not asking anything of you.”

“What are you saying?”

Isabel’s face twitched as though she were in pain. “I have feelings for you. And I know that’s my responsibility. I don’t want to cause you any problems.”

Heat rushed through Mira’s body. What had Isabel just said? Mira couldn’t have heard that correctly.

“I’m not asking anything of you,” Isabel repeated in a monotone. “I just thought it would be unfair to you if you didn’t know. If you don’t want to keep living with me, I get it.”

Mira stared. Emotions churned within her, too confusing to name. “For me?”

Isabel nodded like she was breaking horrible news.

“Okay. I, um, I didn’t expect this.” That was an understatement. Isabel could obviously have anyone she wanted. Any woman who actually liked other women would be all over her in an instant. In a sense, it was a tremendous waste that Mira wasn’t into women.

A long time ago, she’d had a few short-lived relationships with straight women; each time, the unspoken expectations had wrapped around her and choked all the air from her lungs. Years later, panic still gripped her when she remembered trying to be someone she would never be. Being with men had been a relief, though she had never fit into the small, insular, mostly white gay scene in college, either. And after she had transitioned, that was gone too.

When she’d gotten serious with Dylan, she’d thought everything was falling into place. She was a woman with a long-term boyfriend—something that, for her, had been terribly hard-won. And, slowly and inexorably, he’d squeezed her to fit into his life—as a devoted girlfriend, a muse, a plaything, but never a partner or a human being. There was no more room for the question of what she wanted.

She’d been told her whole life, in a million overt and covert ways, that women like her didn’t deserve better. Dylan hadn’t needed to say it aloud to her. He’d said it in everything that he did.

Now Dylan was gone. What was left for her? Mira was lightheaded. The momentary terror of climbing down through the hatch returned, when she’d found nothing beneath her but air. “Um, do you want to sit down?”

Isabel sat down on the couch. Mira got mugs from the cabinet—her favorite, and Isabel’s—and poured them tea, grateful she had something to do. “It’s just about the apartment,” Isabel said. As though that were true. “It’s fine if you don’t want me to stay. I won’t take it personally.”

Mira’s head was still spinning. She hadn’t been remotely prepared for this. Isabel wanted her ? “It’s okay. I don’t hold it against you or anything. But, um, you know I’m straight. And I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” Who was she trying to convince? These were obvious, irrefutable reasons, weren’t they? Then again, why would her reasons even matter? Isabel had made it clear that she wasn’t asking for anything. Having feelings could mean anything. It would be mortifying to ask, and there was no reason for Mira to wonder or to know.

“You don’t have to let me down easy.” Isabel gave her a small smile. If she was joking about it, maybe this wasn’t a big deal. Isabel didn’t want anything between them to change. Mira was overreacting.

“Well, I appreciate you telling me.” Mira was proud of how level her voice was, considering that she’d had her head split open. “It’s just unexpected for me. You can stay in the apartment if you want. I don’t see why you shouldn’t.”

“Don’t say that because you feel like you have to.”

“I’m not.” Isabel was too honorable for her own good. It was sweet that she was trying to protect Mira, as though Mira were in any danger. Her mind drifted to that night at the club—her sheer relief, her sense of safety. Maybe that was how Isabel’s girlfriends felt all the time with her.

“You can take some time to think about it,” Isabel said. “We have until the end of the month to tell the rental office.”

Right. They had practical things to discuss. “If you let me say yes now, I can cancel all my showings for tomorrow,” Mira said. “I can give you a tour of the apartment. It’s a nice place. You’d get the big bedroom.”

Isabel smiled, her stoic facade crumbling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But it’ll be about as tidy as it is right now, with all these books and papers and hair clips everywhere.”

Isabel laughed, which was always a pleasure to hear. Then she sobered up. “I thought, with your ex…”

“That’s different,” Mira said quickly. “This is nothing like that. We’re not together.”

“I guess. I mean, of course not.” Isabel looked stricken.

“Please don’t worry about it,” Mira said. “You’re a good roommate and a good friend. I want to keep living together, if that’s what you want.” This had been a rough day for Isabel. The least Mira could do was comfort her.

Tea would help. Mira had almost forgotten. She jumped up. “Be right back.” She returned with mugs of tea for them both. “It’s a bit strong. Don’t drink too much.”

Isabel took a sip and sighed. “Thanks, Mira.” Her stiffness was mostly gone. “I do want to stay. I’m glad this worked out.”

“Me too.” They had a good thing going. Isabel’s revelation wouldn’t change anything.

“Are we good?”

Mira smiled. “That’s up to you.”

Isabel didn’t quite meet her gaze. “Then I guess we are.”