Make Room for Love

Chapter 36

36

Isabel was, mercifully, intact and lying lengthwise on the couch. When she saw Mira, a hesitant smile spread across her face. “I thought you’d be gone all day.”

“I wanted to come back and be with you.” Mira dropped her bag on the floor, rushed over and kneeled on the rug, and carefully took Isabel into her arms. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Isabel rested her forehead against Mira’s, her voice tight with emotion. “I talked to Grace today.”

“I know. I ran into her as she was leaving.” Mira stood up. “Will you tell me about it while I make tea?”

“Oh.” Isabel seemed knocked off course. “What did she say?”

Mira filled the kettle with water and turned it on. “She said she was still a little angry, but that you had a good talk.” She returned to Isabel’s side.

“She told me that, too. I can accept that. But what I was going to say is this.” Emotions warred on her solemn face. “I apologized and had a real conversation with her for the first time. Everything you said to me last night… I needed to hear that. I’ve been making the same mistakes over and over again. Trying to take care of other people when I was hurt. Trying to run away from my own problems instead of actually doing right by other people.”

Isabel wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I’m sorry that I saw us that way, that I needed you to depend on me. The truth is that I needed you.” Her voice shook. But a smile broke through. “Also, Grace asked me to be her bridesmaid.”

Mira held onto Isabel tighter, as tightly as she dared in Isabel’s fragile state. “That’s wonderful. Oh, Isabel, I’m so happy for you. Did she apologize to you for what she said?”

Isabel huffed a laugh. “Yeah, she did.” She told Mira about their conversation. “It’s going to take time for both of us. But I can accept that. I haven’t been respecting her feelings enough.”

“I’m proud of you.” Mira stroked Isabel’s back. “I know you didn’t do it for me. But I’m so glad you did it. And I have something to say to you, too.” The water in the kettle started boiling. “One moment.”

Mira got up, took Isabel’s glass teapot from the shelf, and set it on the coffee table on a coaster along with two mugs. She returned with the kettle and rummaged in her bag for what she’d picked up on her way home.

“What is that?” Isabel asked.

“Chrysanthemum tea. You can’t be drinking a gallon of coffee every morning if you’re trying to rest and relax all day.” Isabel started to say something. “Don’t argue with me. Anyway, Frankie used to make this for me when I was crashing in her apartment. I thought the flowers would be perfect for your teapot.”

Isabel’s face wobbled, and she looked down. “Is that okay?” Mira asked.

Isabel nodded. “Thank you,” she said, very softly.

Mira tipped the dried flower buds into the teapot. She poured water over them, and the flowers blossomed, bobbing in the water in the clear glass. She kneeled by Isabel on the floor and took her hand.

“I haven’t been fair to you, either,” Mira said. “I put you on a pedestal for a long time because I thought you were so strong and brave. And you are. But I don’t think I let myself see how scared you felt or how much you needed.” She took a deep breath. This was it. “Isabel, I want to stay with you. I want to keep coming home to you, and I want to keep falling asleep next to you and waking up next to you. I want to build a life with you. Not the version of you that’s tough all the time. The real you.”

A sweet, cautious smile lit up Isabel’s face. She made a hiccupy sobbing sound. Mira went on. “I want to keep taking care of you while you’re healing for as long as it takes. I want to keep hearing about Alexa and the rest of your family. I want to know everything you want to tell me.” This was what her heart had wanted all along, and she was finally brave enough to bring it into the light. “Even when it’s hard, and you think I can’t take it. I’m tougher than I look.”

Isabel’s face contorted—with joy, with tears. She didn’t try to hide them. “Mira…”

Mira gently massaged the tendons of her hand and stroked the calluses of her palm. “I got this tea for you to remind you that I’ll always be here to take care of you. And that if you tell me how you’re feeling, I’m not going to run away. Just make yourself a cup if you ever get worried. I think you can manage that with one arm.”

Isabel took a few shuddering breaths, tears falling down her cheeks. Mira stayed where she was. They were both too unaccustomed to good things, and Isabel was more stubborn than Mira, and she would need more time. “I will,” Isabel said. “Thank you. I…”

Mira kissed Isabel’s palm, and Isabel cupped her face tentatively, as though she were afraid Mira would vanish with the slightest touch. “There was something you said last night,” Mira said. It was time to go all in. “You said you loved me.”

Isabel stiffened. “I do.” She relaxed when Mira kissed her hand again. “I’ve known since I woke up next to you in my bed the first time. It was a bad time to say it. I don’t expect you to feel the same way about me. But I’m not going to pretend I didn’t mean it. You’re too smart for that.” She smiled sadly. “I’m not good at taking things slow.”

Perfect calm settled over Mira. “I love you too, Isabel.”

Mira had once tried to convince herself that she didn’t need to fall in love. Love was sentimental nonsense, and real relationships were founded on pragmatism and sacrifice. Her parents—supposedly a love match—had been together for decades, and Mira had never heard them say I love you to each other.

She had told herself all that when she’d been with Dylan. But the sacrifices in their relationship had always been hers to make, not his. This time, it was Isabel giving something up for Mira: the walls she’d put up, and her terrible reserves of pride and shame. This was real love, the kind that had carried Mira’s parents—two very different, strong-willed people—through three decades of marriage. That was what Mira wanted for herself.

She wrapped Isabel in her arms again. “I’m still afraid,” Isabel said.

“I know,” Mira said. “I know.”

“I’m still afraid I’m going to let you down.” Isabel sniffled. “I loved Reina, too. But it wasn’t enough. I’ve already opened up to you more than I ever did with her. But I’m afraid I’m going to fall apart again.”

“You have a cast on your arm and a brace on your foot and can barely get off the couch by yourself,” Mira said. Isabel made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Mira rubbed Isabel’s shoulder. “It’s a little too late for that. Here, let me sit with you.”

She stood and helped Isabel sit up, and then squeezed in on the couch behind Isabel, letting Isabel rest against her body. Isabel was tense. “I don’t want to crush you.”

“You won’t. Relax.” Mira ran her hand through Isabel’s loose hair. “Can I braid your hair for you?”

Isabel nodded. Mira knew perfectly well that it wasn’t easy for Isabel to accept her help, and Isabel’s trust in her suffused her with warmth. She gathered Isabel’s hair at the nape of her neck and started braiding it, luxuriating in its thickness as it ran through her fingers. “Why didn’t you want to talk to Reina about what you were going through?”

Isabel was silent for a while, and Mira waited for her. It took time to unearth so much buried pain. “I didn’t know how. We were together for years, and I was always the steady one supporting her while she got her painting career off the ground. And I was the first woman she ever dated, and her parents made her choose between them and me. So I thought I had to be everything for her.”

Mira’s heart broke. “Oh, no. That’s a terrible responsibility for you to carry.”

“I felt like I couldn’t burden her.” Isabel’s voice was tight. “I still had a family who loved me. I didn’t want to make her hear about it when her family had abandoned her. She didn’t ask me to do any of this. I don’t even know if I realized that’s what I was doing.”

“Did you have anyone you could talk to?”

“I saw a therapist for a few months. But I had an argument with her and stopped going. She always said, you know, your feelings are valid . She didn’t get it. I always felt terrible after I saw her because I had to dwell on my feelings during the session. It was too much to deal with, on top of my parents and my grandmother and my sister depending on me.” She paused. “I asked the therapist if she actually knew what it was like, taking care of a big immigrant family, and she said no, and I told her… Well, it didn’t go well after that.”

Mira smiled. “I can imagine. My mother tried to see a therapist after my aunt Miriam died and was so uncooperative that the therapist basically fired her. She found someone else eventually. But she hated people telling her what to do.”

“I want to meet your parents someday,” Isabel said. “I mean, if— I don’t mean to?—”

“I want them to meet you too. They’ll love you. My mother might try to interview you. She can’t help it.” Mira finished braiding Isabel’s hair and secured it with a purple scrunchie she’d left on the end table. A cute new look for Isabel. “I’m named after my aunt Miriam. Did I ever tell you that?” Isabel shook her head. “I spent a long time trying to decide on a new name, and then my mother suggested it. It’s a little unusual for us, being named for someone I knew when she was alive, but I’m grateful for it. Oh, also, she was probably the first lesbian I ever met.”

Isabel laughed. “Oh, that’s great. I’m glad you told me.”

Mira kissed the top of her head. Isabel had a few premature gray hairs. She was going to be so sexy as she grew older, and Mira wanted to be there for every single day and year and decade of it.

She slipped off the couch and poured them tea. “There’s something else,” Isabel said. “I wish it were easier for you to leave me and leave this apartment. If you don’t win this election?—”

“Don’t you dare push me away again because you’re worried for me. I told you that if I wanted to leave you, I would.”

“But—”

“It was a lot harder for me to leave Dylan, and I still did it,” Mira said. “I thought I was alone and powerless then, and now I know I’m not. If I needed money and a place to live, it’s not only Vivian and Frankie who would help me. My coworkers in the union would help me, even if we lost the election this time around and had to rebuild. We’ve been helping Shreya with her legal fees just because she needs help, and I know they’d do that for me, too, because we do these things for each other no matter what. And, you know, choosing to love someone means you could get hurt. You’re not protected from that, either. It’s a risk for both of us, and I’m taking the risk.”

Isabel’s fear was still written on her face. “I’m choosing to trust you,” Mira continued. “All you have to do is trust that I trust you. I’d survive on my own, but I want you to take care of me. And I want to take care of you.”

It took a moment, but Isabel’s expression softened. “I want that too. I guess it really is that simple, huh?”

“Don’t overthink it.” Mira handed Isabel a mug of tea, which she took with her uninjured arm.

“Thanks.” Isabel took a sip, and Mira did, too. The earthy, gently floral tea soothed her. “My po po used to make this for us. All three of us. She said it would cure any number of things, and I don’t know if she was just saying that about whatever was going on with us at the moment.” She smiled wistfully. “Alexa would know, with her medical degree.”

Mira sat at the foot of the couch. “It couldn’t hurt. You need all the help you can get.”

Isabel snorted. Then she went quiet. “I’ve been thinking about something else,” she said, finally. “I don’t know if I should say this. You can say no.”

“Just tell me.”

“I had some money saved up for Grace’s wedding. She told me she didn’t need it.” Isabel hesitated again. “I know you don’t need my charity. But if you don’t win your election and don’t get a pay raise, and it’d be easier for you if you had some savings… If you tell me, I’ll transfer it to you and never mention it again. I’d be less worried if I knew things were easier for you. But I can deal with that. It’s your life.”

They’d come a long way since the tense conversation they’d had in the park. “That’s considerate of you,” Mira said. “You know what? I’ll think about it. You don’t have to be so nervous talking about it, either. About money or your family or anything else that’s hard.” She put a hand on Isabel’s cast. “It’s both our lives, together.”

“I love you, Mira.” Hearing it in Isabel’s utterly straightforward tones, Mira knew it was real. “You made my apartment feel like home again. I thought you were too good to be true.”

“I’m not,” Mira said. “I’m right here.”

Her phone buzzed. She reached in her pocket to silence it, but then it buzzed again.

She checked her messages. They were from the union group chat. “We won.” It couldn’t be real—but it was. “We got 59 percent of the vote. We won.”

She kneeled next to Isabel, and Isabel pulled her into a crushing hug. The pressure and uncertainty of the last several months, the exhaustion and jadedness from all her years of grad school—everything lifted off her. They had done it.

Isabel let go. She was grinning, and Mira realized she was, too. “Go talk to your sisters and brothers in the union,” Isabel said. “I’ll be here.”

Mira put her phone down and slid it across the coffee table. They would celebrate and then get to work again. But for now, the snow was falling, she was safe and warm at home, and she was about to have a quiet, restful night with the woman she loved.

“I wasn’t done talking to you,” Mira said. She pulled Isabel close. “You must have been so lonely before.”

Isabel relaxed, letting herself be held. “I was. But I’m not anymore.”