Make Room for Love

Chapter 31

31

Time to be the bigger person. Isabel had to text Grace. She couldn’t leave their argument hanging like that forever.

But she didn’t know what to say. Every time she thought about it, the pain and shame washed over her again. How was she going to move on from this? She’d been afraid to ask Mira for help and hadn’t had time to work up to it, and now Mira would be canvassing all day. Isabel was on her own. Sitting on the couch, dread gnawing at her, she took out her phone.

Huh. James, Alexa’s widower, had texted her. She couldn’t think of any obvious reason. They’d already caught up over text last week after they’d wished each other a happy New Year.

As it turned out, James was seeing someone new. It was getting serious, and he wanted Isabel to hear it from him. He would always treasure the years he’d had with Alexa…

Isabel put her phone down halfway through reading the text.

This was great for him. She was happy. She truly was. It wasn’t that she begrudged him this. But somehow, in the last two years, everyone seemed to have moved on faster than she had. She constantly had the sense she was still picking up the pieces, both her own and everyone else’s. But Grace was getting married in a few months, and James had found someone new.

Maybe it was just Isabel. Alone and left behind. She looked out the window at nothing in particular. Bare branches, slush and salt on the street.

Texting Mira was out of the question. She was busy—and, anyway, Isabel was too lost to know what to think, what to feel, what to say. If Mira were here, and they had all the time in the world, she might help Isabel untangle it all. But she wasn’t here.

Isabel picked up the phone to call Cat, who had probably known about her older brother’s new girlfriend for some time. As soon as she pressed the button, she regretted it. What was she even going to say?

Cat answered, looking frazzled on their video call. She was in her bedroom with piles of laundry on her bed. Loud, rhythmic thumping came through Isabel’s phone speaker. “Hey,” Cat said. “Sorry, one sec.” The music stopped. “What’s up?”

“Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, it’s good.” Cat sounded distracted. “I have a big set tonight, and I got behind, so I’m a little stressed. But it’s fine. Is this about James?”

“Kind of. If you’re busy?—”

“No, no, what’s up?”

“I’m not upset or anything. I’m happy for him. I just…” Isabel shook her head. “Finish what you’re working on. Let’s talk later.”

“You can feel however you need to about it.” Somehow, Cat’s sympathy made Isabel feel even lonelier. “We can talk now. What’s going on?”

“Let’s talk when you’re less busy. Good luck tonight.”

“Uh, thanks. If you’re sure. Okay, I think my work schedule is… Let’s just do our usual time on Wednesday. Is that okay? If you want to talk sooner than that, I can?—”

“That’s fine. Talk to you then.” Isabel hung up.

She made instant ramen with eggs, dumped in some frozen spinach for nutrition’s sake, and ate it standing up at the counter. The apartment felt empty without Mira. It was almost like those endless months of last year when she’d been completely alone.

No, that was ridiculous. She needed to snap out of it. It wasn’t as though Mira had never left the apartment before. Mira would be home in a few hours—at six or seven, she’d said. There was no reason to be so needy.

Isabel took a long walk in the cold, went grocery shopping, and texted Mira to ask exactly when she’d be home. She made dinner for them both. At seven, she checked her phone: nothing. No notifications from anyone.

Isabel’s gut twisted in anxiety. Maybe Mira’s phone had died. But any number of awful things could have happened to her on a cold, dark winter night. She would be with a partner while door-knocking, but what if something happened to both of them?

Had she been in an accident?

There was a pettier, uglier fear rising within her, too: that Mira was fine, and just hadn’t thought it was worth texting Isabel or being home on time. It didn’t make sense. This was the same Mira who sleepily clung to Isabel when she slipped out of bed at five, who snuck notes into her lunch box that made her grin and blush, who flung herself into Isabel’s arms when Isabel got home. Mira wouldn’t do that to her.

The idea shouldn’t be rattling her this badly. But maybe Mira’s priorities had changed. The thing about being alone in the apartment all day was that it was too easy to let poisonous thoughts fester. Isabel knew that too well, but the fears had dug their venomous hooks in.

She called Mira, and it went to voicemail.

Isabel made herself wait ten minutes, paralyzed by anxiety at the dining table. She called again. It went to voicemail.

Mira hurried up the stairs to the apartment. She was still buzzing from a full day of canvassing, and her feet ached, and she was cold, but at least she was finally home.

They’d gone door-to-door around the grad student apartments near campus, asking their coworkers to vote for the union. As much of a slog as it had been, it seemed like their plan could be working. When she’d made her case—if just threatening to unionize could scare the university into giving them a raise, think of what they’d accomplish once they actually unionized—some people had cared enough to listen.

And others had slammed the door in her face. It was too early to tell.

They’d gathered at a bar afterward and shared stories and tactics over food. Mira had needed it. Surrounded by her coworkers talking and laughing, she’d felt a little warmer, a little more hopeful. She was where she was meant to be, and she was part of something important, and the future they’d all worked toward for years might finally arrive.

But everything depended on them winning.

She had no idea what time it was. She’d forgotten to charge her phone last night, in the delicious haze of sex in the shower and more sex in bed and two glasses of wine, and it had died in the middle of the day. She unlocked the apartment door and found Isabel sitting at the table.

Isabel stood up. “Where were you? I was worried about you. What happened?”

The clock in the kitchen read half past eight. Last night, Mira had said she’d probably be home at six or seven, or something along those lines. “Sorry. My phone died. It was a really long day. You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?” Of course Isabel had. Mira regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. “I’m sorry,” Mira said again, walking over and putting her arms around Isabel. She’d been excited to share her victories and process her defeats, but now she was deflated. “I didn’t mean to make you worry about me.”

“It’s fine.” Isabel squeezed her too tightly for comfort. “Do you want to have dinner?”

Mira had already eaten. But Isabel clearly had something on the stove. “I ate a little because I got hungry. But I could use more food. Thank you.”

Isabel went to reheat whatever she’d cooked. “How did it go today?”

Mira recounted her day. Her excitement was tempered by her guilt, though she wasn’t sure she’d actually done anything wrong. Now that she was finally sitting down at home, the adrenaline was fading, and she was too tired to think.

Isabel put a bowl of kimchi tofu stew in front of her along with a bowl of rice. It smelled so delicious that Mira’s guilt faded. She was hungry again. She’d done a lot of walking today.

“I’m glad you’re making progress,” Isabel said, sitting down at the table. She seemed distracted, not entirely in tune with what Mira had said.

“Thank you.” Mira let her calf rub against Isabel’s. It was good to be home regardless. She ate a spoonful of stew, and the warmth revitalized her. “What did you get up to today?”

“Not much.” Isabel paused. “I got a text from James. Alexa’s widower. He said he’s seeing someone new.”

“Oh!” Mira tried to figure out how to respond. Isabel’s blank expression didn’t give her any clues. “How are you feeling about that?”

“I’m happy for him.” Isabel took a bite of rice.

Isabel had been quiet ever since her visit to her family. Her conversation with Grace had ended in disaster—that was all Mira knew, since Isabel had been vague on details. Maybe Mira couldn’t help, and maybe it wasn’t any of her business, but the silence still troubled her.

But Isabel was determined to clam up, and there was nothing more Mira could do. “I can’t believe I’m about to do all this again tomorrow,” she said, changing the subject. “Today was good overall, I think. Just exhausting.”

“Come to bed with me early, then.” Isabel gave her a hopeful smile.

“That would be wonderful.” After a day in the cold, walking from building to building and talking to dozens of people, she longed to be in Isabel’s arms under the covers. Last night had been wonderful, and she’d been so content as she drifted off to sleep. Maybe everything would be all right again once they got back in bed. “I just have to finish writing a letter of recommendation for my student from last semester. Lauren. I told you about her, I think. I’ll be done in an hour or so.”

“I’m starting to worry about you,” Isabel said. Mira looked up, surprised. “Don’t tire yourself out too much. You should rest.”

Mira bristled. “I know. I can take care of myself.” Of course she was sacrificing her rest for this work. She had thought Isabel understood why.

“It’s easy to get burned out when you’re organizing.” There was something all-knowing about her tone that irked Mira. “I know what it’s like. If you keep going like this, you’re not going to last through the month.”

Mira’s indignation rose. “I know how tiring it is.” She was proud of what she’d done today, even if it had exhausted her. It would be nice if Isabel acknowledged that a little more. “I’m asking everyone else in my department to do this all-out push before the election, and I need to be there with them as their area captain, like I’ve been telling you. It’s worth it to me.”

These days, Mira had a budding sense that she wasn’t just someone who happened to be the Classics area captain, but someone who made decisions and faced the consequences for herself and others. She was someone whose choices mattered. The way she saw herself was changing, and she’d thought Isabel understood. Maybe Mira had been wrong.

Mira was rattled. She had always counted on Isabel to see her the way she wanted to be seen. Isabel had helped her see herself this way in the first place. But now the foundation of Isabel’s trust in her felt shakier than it should.

“I know,” Isabel said. “I’m just saying I’m worried about you.”

Her words were the opposite of reassuring. “Are you just saying this because I didn’t come home when you wanted me to?”

“It’s not about that,” Isabel said, too quickly. “You’ve been working late most nights. I barely ever see you anymore. It’s not just about tonight.” Isabel seemed like she wasn’t finished. “But I don’t think wanting to know where you are and wanting you to be home on time is too much to ask, either.”

Mira put her face in her hands. How had it come to this? She was exhausted, and she still had work to do, and now a sickeningly familiar fear loomed over the conversation. These little arguments over where Mira had gone and whom she was with could easily build up to something worse, until she was trapped. “Like I said, I’m sorry for not texting you, but I never promised you I’d be back at a specific time, and I never asked you to wait up for me. It’s my life. I don’t tell you how to spend your time or what you can and can’t do.”

Isabel looked taken aback. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“I’m doing this so I’ll never have to be exhausted and burned out from being overworked ever again,” Mira continued, pressing on despite Isabel’s hurt expression, desperately needing to make herself heard. “I need us to win this election, and I need us to win a fair contract as soon as we can, and I’ll do anything to make sure it happens. If we lose, I’ll be back to where I’ve been for the last five years.”

“I’m sorry. I know how important this is to you. I really do.”

“Do you?” Something previously unspoken between them was bubbling up. “It’s the only way I can have a living wage and can afford to choose where I live. You understand that, right?”

Isabel’s eyes widened. She put her hands on her lap and went very still.

Mira had never lost sight of that fact. Isabel would blanch at the idea of ever treating her the way Dylan had, or having anything in common with him at all. But maybe Mira was fundamentally still in the same situation she’d been in with him. She could leave Isabel now, but where would she go?

She hadn’t had any reason to worry about it since they’d started dating. Isabel had been wonderful to her. But with Isabel being this pushy about where she was and what she was doing, the fear was returning to lurk in the corners of her mind.

Isabel rubbed her face and sighed. “Yeah. I do.” She was pulling the stoic, responsible mask back on, but Mira could see she wasn’t calm at all. “I got worried about you and I overreacted. I didn’t mean to tell you what to do.”

Regardless of anything else, Isabel cared about her. That was a fundamental difference. Mira hoped it was enough. “I know.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of your organizing or anything else you do.” Isabel looked miserable. “I know it’s your life. I’m sorry.”

Mira softened. They were both anxious and tired, and it was a terrible time to be having an argument. They should have just gone to bed and saved it for tomorrow. Except that Mira would be busy again tomorrow, and then it would be Monday, and Mira’s evenings were now booked too…

Mira moved her chair closer to Isabel, leaned against her, and pressed their foreheads together. Isabel thawed and relaxed into her touch—only partially, but it was something. “Well, I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. And I’m sorry for being careless and not texting you back. I’ll bring my backup phone battery with me tomorrow. That would have saved us a lot of unnecessary anguish.” They shared a small smile. “And I’ll do a better job of warning you the next time I’m out late. I can tell you it’ll be the same thing tomorrow, and I don’t want you to wait up.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Isabel said, still stiff. “I appreciate that. Don’t worry about me.”

Mira twined their hands together. “I do worry about you. And I wish I could spend more time with you. But it’s just until the election, and then we can make up for lost time. Will you text me tomorrow and tell me how you’re doing?”

Isabel hesitated. “I might go into work tomorrow. They’re behind schedule and looking for some people to work overtime.”

Are you sure? What about your knee? Why are you doing this? Mira bit back her questions. She didn’t want to be a hypocrite, and she wasn’t sure she had enough softness left in her for Isabel’s hard silences tonight.

Maybe the good, easy days were over. Mira was chilled. She’d known those days had to end eventually. But she hadn’t known how soon, and she hadn’t expected it to hit her so hard.

She had been naive. They couldn’t be a refuge for each other forever. They’d both been battered by the world, and the world would keep battering them.

She held Isabel tighter. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?”

Isabel nodded. “I’ll text you during my breaks.” Maybe that was the most Mira could hope for.

Under the covers, with Isabel softly snoring, Mira’s mind was still racing. She was so physically tired. But she couldn’t sleep.

They’d had a fight and gotten through it. For now. Just like any couple. And they were a couple, as much as Mira had avoided thinking about the word. In those idyllic days when everything had been good and easy, their lives had become intertwined. If Mira had to leave, she’d have to rip out and leave a part of herself behind.

Maybe it had always been a mistake to think they could be casual with each other.

That night at the club, Mira had plunged into that wild, reckless, wonderful kiss while still half in denial about what she was doing. Now, once more, she’d gotten herself in too deep. And now she had to face what she’d done, just like on that cold night, walking alone by the river as Isabel waited for her.

They’d had a couples’ fight, the kind of fight between people who mattered to each other, who had a shared past and present and maybe a future. It was the kind of fight that didn’t end in a single night. Mira was in for more of this—if she stayed.

The more intertwined their lives were, the more it mattered whether she had a way to get out on her own. They needed to win this election. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen if they didn’t.