Make Room for Love

Chapter 34

34

The election had started. For months, Isabel had looked forward to doing whatever she could today to support Mira. Instead, she’d needed Mira’s help to get dressed, and she was about to spend the rest of this momentous day sitting on the couch.

“Text me if you need anything,” Mira had said sternly. “Seriously. Don’t be a hero.”

It was only nine in the morning. Isabel had to get through the whole day without going anywhere except the fridge, microwave, and bathroom, and then she had to endure at least several more days of the same. If she was well-behaved, she might be allowed outside next week. The cast wouldn’t come off for another two months. And yesterday, she’d thought that two weeks was a long time. “Sitting and reading isn’t doing nothing,” Mira had said, mock-offended. But Isabel had felt too chastened to joke around.

Mira had asked a few basic things of her. If Isabel couldn’t even do those, she might as well pack it up.

One thing at a time. She picked up her phone and laboriously texted Cat with one hand: I need your advice on Grace. And some other things.

Cat was in LA for her West Coast debut, so Isabel didn’t expect a quick reply. But the dots popped up indicating Cat was typing back. I’m free if you want to call now!

Isabel started a video call. Cat picked up, still in a black mesh top she’d probably worn to the club. “Hey, what’s up?” she said, very loudly.

Isabel winced. “Hey. Why are you still up?” She knew perfectly well that Cat hadn’t woken up before six in the morning on this calendar day.

“I just got back after my set. It was great. Really good vibes. What’s going on?”

Just the thought of all that gave Isabel a headache. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I always get really wired for, like, two or three hours after my set ends. I’m at my friends’ place. They’re still out. So why’d you call me? This is about Grace, right? Wait, what’s that thing on your arm?”

“I broke my wrist. I’ll tell you about it later. How much did you hear from her?”

“Uh…okay. I think I heard all of it.” Cat’s tone was unexpectedly serious. “You know, she told me she feels terrible about how your fight ended.”

“It’s fine,” Isabel said, out of habit.

“Doesn’t sound like it. Although, to be honest, you know she had a point.”

“About what?”

“You do kind of treat her like a baby. I’m not saying she couldn’t have done a better job of telling you. But Grace does have her own life now. She likes her job, and she and Kevin are doing well. You can see why she thinks you look down on her.” Cat paused. “I knew what she was saying because you do it to me a little bit, too, honestly. I know you don’t think I have a real job?—”

“Come on. I don’t think that.”

“Yes, you do. It’s fine. We can’t all be big, tough blue-collar workers like you.” This was a recurring topic for shit-talking. But it actually bothered Cat, and Isabel hadn’t seen that before. “I do like what I do, even if I have to crash on my friends’ couches and work shitty day jobs. I feel like sometimes you don’t take me that seriously, or like I need to grow out of it, or something.”

Isabel let her head thump against the back of the couch cushion. She hadn’t been ready for this many wake-up calls in a twenty-four-hour period. “Sorry. I really?—”

“It’s okay. This isn’t about me. I didn’t mean to get into it.”

“No, I’m glad you said it.” There was something she needed to tell Cat, something she never would have thought to say a year ago. Isabel was going to make a mess of it, but she needed to try. “I need to say something.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to say… Thanks for checking up on me all this time. These last two years. It’s been hard. Sorry I spent all that time telling you I didn’t want to talk or that I’m fine, brushing you off, all that bullshit.” Isabel’s face burned. She wasn’t good at this. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. Seriously. So, uh, thanks again for that.”

Cat wasn’t very much like James, her overachieving brother, but she was just as loyal and kind. And she knew a thing or two about living in her older sibling’s shadow. Isabel had never tried to open up and talk about what they had in common. She’d wasted so much time.

Cat smiled. “Aww, Isabel. You’re a big softie. I’ve always known that about you.” At that, Isabel scoffed. But she couldn’t help smiling, which probably looked ridiculous on Cat’s phone screen. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m happy to talk any time. I mean it. So, how’d you break your wrist?”

Isabel groaned in resignation. She recounted the events of the last several days. “What?” Cat said. “You went out and tried to shop for groceries with a sprained ankle? Just so you could make dinner for this girl? Because you wanted to, what, apologize to her?”

Isabel grimaced. “Pretty much.”

“Oh my god, Isabel. Here’s the thing. I know you think my relationships are messy, but I’ve never done anything like?—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” She deserved that. Thank god Cat was here to make fun of her. She needed some of that mixed in with Mira’s infinite compassion.

“You are ridiculous. You have no right to judge me for anything I tell you after this. You know, it sucks now, but this is going to be a good story for your wedding someday. I’m not going to forget.”

There was a familiar tug in Isabel’s chest, the one she always felt when she thought about making a future with Mira. “Who says I’d invite you?”

“Yeah, like you’re going to get a different DJ? Come on.”

Isabel grinned. The muscles of her face were unused to smiling so much. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you really think Grace and Kevin are happy?”

“Oh, they definitely are. Okay, look, I’m going to be honest with you. If I were in Grace’s situation, and I grew up with two older sisters with, let’s just say, extremely strong personalities?—”

“Hey,” Isabel said, mildly indignant. “I know I’m overbearing. But Alexa—” She stopped herself. If Grace had found Alexa overbearing at times, growing up, it wasn’t actually any of Isabel’s business.

Maybe Alexa hadn’t been perfect. But she had been a good sister, and she had been so loved. And if that was true for Alexa…

Isabel shook her head. “Never mind.” For once, she didn’t need everything to be spelled out for her. “What were you saying?”

Cat rolled her eyes. “If I had two wonderful older sisters who were just a little bit overbearing—your word, not mine—I might want to marry a guy who’s pretty chill and just loves her and does whatever she tells him to do. I’m just saying. Make of that what you want.”

When Isabel hung up, she was still smiling. She wasn’t going to talk herself out of what she had to do next. If she was stuck in the apartment, she could at least do this.

“Hi.” Grace didn’t sound happy about Isabel calling her.

“Hey. I want to say sorry for being a condescending asshole and not treating you like an adult who can make your own choices. I’ll listen to whatever you want to say to me. I mean it this time.”

Grace sighed. “Did Cat put you up to this?”

“We talked. She didn’t tell me what to say. It was, uh, mostly my girlfriend.”

“You have— All right. I don’t want to talk to you about this over the phone. Can you come here? Maybe next weekend?”

“I can’t. I sprained my ankle and broke my wrist.”

“Oh my god, really? At work?”

“No.The ankle is from work.” Isabel explained everything a second time today. It wasn’t any less humiliating.

“Wow. So you’re dating your roommate.” Grace paused. “I have a dress fitting in Manhattan today. I could come to your place afterward at around three. You’re still in the same apartment, right?”

“Yeah.” Isabel glanced out the window. A few flakes of snow were falling. “It’s going to snow. Hope you’re not driving.”

She could practically hear Grace rolling her eyes. “I’m taking the LIRR. See you soon.”

Mira took off her headset and reached for her coffee cup. It was empty. Hadn’t it been full just a moment ago?

She rubbed her eyes. She had been making calls or tabling outside in the cold all day, in between training other grad students to do the same; if they were getting involved on the day of the election, well, better late than never. It was almost four o’clock, two hours before the polls closed, and she was tired. She’d collapsed in her own room at two in the morning after helping Isabel get to bed, and Isabel had clearly resented needing help even as she’d put on a brave face about it. Old habits died hard.

It had been a long night. When she’d found Isabel crumpled on the sidewalk surrounded by EMTs, the agony had pierced her heart through. Only her desperation had kept her calm. She’d been acting on pure instinct—needing to see for herself that Isabel was alive and conscious, needing to protect Isabel from having to face the ER alone.

Mira had been shaking during the entire ambulance ride. With the terror had come clarity. They would have to decide what they were to each other.

Mira couldn’t keep either of them waiting forever. Soon, she’d have to make up her mind.

She hadn’t made any promises last night, and Isabel hadn’t pushed her. But even saying what she’d said had taken so much out of her. She wanted so badly to believe Isabel’s apologies and promises. But maybe it was futile to ask Isabel to treat her differently, futile to ask for anything at all.

She knew what Isabel wanted from her. But Mira had reached the limits of her bravery—it didn’t extend quite far enough to cover all her fear. Isabel would have to keep waiting a while longer, if she was still willing to wait.

Mira’s thoughts were swirling into a morass of dread. The election. Their odds of winning. How she’d live with herself if they lost. Isabel by herself at home, and all the ways she could break yet another limb. Every discouraging phone call Mira had made today, portending their loss. Isabel’s words to her: She’ll never get to see how much I love you.

She needed more coffee. She left the phone-banking room and found Shreya outside. “How are you doing?” Shreya asked.

Mira shook her head. “Not great. I’ve been here since eight. And I’m supposed to stay and be a witness for the ballot-counting.” She yawned. “Isabel broke her wrist last night, and I was up late helping her.”

“Is she okay now? Is anyone helping her at home?”

Mira grimaced. “No.She told me to come in today. She’s really stubborn.” If Isabel had been just a little less insistent, Mira would have stayed home. Although, truthfully, part of her was relieved to be here. She needed a distraction, in the form of one of the most consequential, nerve-wracking events of her life.

Shreya seemed skeptical. “If you need to go home and be with her, I’ll take over your phone-banking shift and deal with the ballot-counting.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Mira poured herself more coffee from the carafe on the table. She reached for the milk, knocked her cup over, and sent coffee flying all over the table and floor. She cursed under her breath. She was more jittery and more tired than she’d thought.

Shreya helped her clean up the mess with the napkins nearby. “You sure you don’t want to go home?”

“It’s only a few more hours.”

“Let me buy you some better coffee, at least.”

“That’s okay. I should go back.”

“Well, as the vice president, I get to tell you to leave your shift and come to the coffee shop with me.” Shreya started walking and motioned at Mira to follow.

So much for democratic leadership. They left the building. Snow was falling, whipped around by the icy wind. Mira was wearing the silk slip under her sweater dress—it had kept her warm through these bleak winter days as she’d knocked on doors and trudged home in the dark. Kept her warm even when Isabel herself hadn’t always.

Shreya said, “You know we’re not going to win or lose depending on whether you stick around tonight. No offense to your ballot-counting skills, which I’m sure are exceptional.”

“I know.” Mira knew that perfectly well. But if there was anything she could do in these final hours to improve their chances, she would do it. If she didn’t, and they lost, she’d never forgive herself. She yawned again. “There’s still time to make more calls, though. We might convince someone at the last minute.”

Over the last few weeks, the need to prove herself had slowly consumed her. It went beyond her own prospects of better pay and beyond her obligations to other people. She wanted to be vindicated.

She wanted to prove that she’d made the right choice in pushing to keep the election date. That her department was right to trust her to lead. That she was worth listening to, that her experiences mattered, that she deserved power in her own life. No abusive ex-boyfriend could tell her otherwise, no dismissive man on the committee. Not Isabel, if it came down to it.

It was too much meaning to attach to one election. Too much weight, on top of the real consequences of victory and defeat, and Mira was staggering. But she couldn’t get out from under it.

She followed Shreya into the cafe and let Shreya order lattes for them both. “With an extra shot for me, please,” Mira added. Shreya glared at her but didn’t object.

They sat down. The snow fell outside. “Look, Mira,” Shreya said, “I’m going to be honest with you.” As though Shreya ever did otherwise. “If we lose this election, it’s not going to be your fault.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because the union stands or falls based on the work we’ve all done for the last four years. That’s all done. It’s not about you.” She gave Mira a pointed look. “Don’t forget why you’re doing this.”

“Why am I doing this?” Mira asked blearily.

“We’re doing this for each other.” Of course Mira knew that, but Shreya wasn’t usually one for this kind of talk. Mira sat up and paid attention. “Look, you know how much I hate delegating things to other people. I would do everything myself if I could. The problem was that I did so much that I got elected VP, and now I’m forced to delegate everything.”

Mira snorted. No part of that was untrue. “I didn’t start out as a big-picture kind of person,” Shreya continued. “You know I care about our rights as workers and all that. But I joined at first because I just didn’t have any more time to fight the administration about my visa issues on my own. And now everyone in the union is helping me, and I’m helping all of them. Turns out having lots of people working together actually helps. Even if I’m sick of all these people by now.” Shreya rolled her eyes. It was for show—she was fonder of her coworkers than she liked to admit. “I’m taking a half-day off tomorrow no matter what. Anyway, this is all to say, go home to your girlfriend and let me take care of it.”

Mira sighed, strands of longing and fear and hope tangling in her chest. Being nestled against Isabel’s softness and warmth right now would be wonderful. But everything was complicated at home. “Maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t exactly have a fight with her, but…”

Shreya frowned. “Is something wrong? I thought I liked her.”

Mira smiled. Shreya had met Dylan once; she had told him that she’d never heard of his novel, but he must be very proud of himself. It was endearing that Shreya was still looking out for her, but it wasn’t necessary—Mira was about to say so when the barista called out their drinks.

Mira drank half of hers in a few gulps, and the warmth and caffeine suffused her. She gingerly rolled her neck to stretch the muscles. She was so stiff. “That much espresso can’t be good for you,” Shreya said. “Okay, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing to be concerned about. It’s just complicated.” Was she really about to tell Shreya, of all people, about her relationship problems? Her life had taken stranger turns. “I think Isabel wants some space. She has a hard time being taken care of.”

“Oh,” Shreya said. “Well, just go home and do it anyway. What’s she going to do, stop you? Her wrist is broken.”

Mira sputtered, then laughed. That was hard to argue with. Something clicked into place.

Mira was always bracing for the people around her to hurt her. She had good reason to. And Isabel had made mistakes—she’d tried to hold on to Mira in all the wrong ways, ways that reopened Mira’s old wounds. But Isabel was just an imperfect, scared, vulnerable, brave person like Mira herself. She was human, no more and no less.

It was time to stop assuming that Isabel would always have something Mira didn’t have. Time to stop taking for granted that Isabel would always have the upper hand. If this was going to work, they were going to have to truly be equals, to truly be partners.

Mira hadn’t been ready to see it before. But seeing Isabel broken and despondent in the hospital bed had changed her. And seeing Isabel this morning, too, full of wounded pride and hope as she’d wished Mira good luck.

They would make mistakes and hurt each other. But they could forgive each other, too, and they could forgive themselves. Isabel would have to play her part, and Mira couldn’t force her to do it. But Mira could wait, and see, and make room.

Maybe this was what freedom felt like. Months ago, at the start, she’d thought that freedom meant being able to cut and run. It was what she’d needed at the time. But now, finally, she felt free enough to stay—free to choose Isabel, to be with her through the good and the bad, to throw herself into the pain and joy of loving someone even if she didn’t know what was on the other side.

“Anyway,” Shreya said, apparently considering the matter settled. “I’m not just telling you to get some rest out of the goodness of my heart. You know that if we win, we’re going to start nominating people for the bargaining committee next week.” Mira nodded. They needed to start bargaining for a new contract, and they couldn’t waste any time. “I’m going to nominate you, and so will a lot of other people.”

“Really?” Mira couldn’t even think about life after the election right now.

“Yes, really. I want you to run.”

The idea of it was overwhelming. The needs of thousands of grad students would be on her shoulders when they sat down to negotiate with the university. It would be the hardest, most important thing she’d ever done. And her coworkers trusted her to do it. Maybe she’d had to prove herself to them less than she’d thought.

Half a year ago, she couldn’t even have imagined it. Fresh from her breakup, she’d been afraid of never finding stability or safety again. But she had, and so much more: She had found solidarity, and she had found love.

Isabel’s care for her, day in and day out, had changed her life. Mira had grown into the person Isabel had seen in her from the beginning: someone who knew what she wanted and needed, someone who would fight for herself and the people she cared about, someone who listened and spoke out even when she was afraid.

Mira was suddenly desperate to see Isabel again. “I’ll think about it. I’m going to go. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Good.” Shreya smiled like someone who had executed a plan perfectly. “Rest up. We’ll really get started next week.”

“I will.” Isabel had reminded her to rest and take care of herself, and Mira had been stubborn about it. She didn’t have to do that anymore. It was time to go home.