Page 15 of Make Room for Love

“Well, no, I suppose you can’t.” Mira’s spine straightened. “But all of us can, if we do it together.”

Isabel needed to get a grip. Mira had an election to win, and if all her coworkers were as determined as she was, they were going to pull it off. She gave Mira a look of suspicion and took in the way Mira stiffened, first from nervousness, then from resolve. Isabel asked, “Why should I believe you?”

After an hour of practice,Mira had loosened up. She still tended to look at Isabel like she was being graded on a test. But it was a start, and Mira would be learning by doing the real thing soon enough.

“You did good,” Isabel said. A playful tension had built up in their back-and-forth exchanges, and Isabel had tried to not get distracted. Though maybe she hadn’t tried her best.

Mira beamed. “Thank you. I’m really grateful.”

“You’ll get better as you do it more. But you’re better at listening to people than I ever was.” At that, Mira scoffed andlooked down. “I mean it. You’re…” What was the right word? Mira was sincere and kind and determined, and Isabel ached to protect her and see her grow. None of that would come out right if Isabel said it. “You’re sympathetic.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m too soft?”

Mira’s tone was teasing, but there was real insecurity under those words. Isabel’s anger flared at whoever had planted the idea in Mira’s head. “No, it’s a good thing. I’m not bullshitting you. I want you to win.”

“I know. Thanks again for all your help. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

That was Mira again, so thankful for the simplest things. “Hey, you know…” Isabel wasn’t the world’s most inspirational journeywoman, but the occasional pep talk was good for people, especially for the younger women she worked with. And that speech she’d given hadn’t been too bad. “Just remember you have a right to be talking to people and asking these questions and building these relationships. These are your coworkers, even if you don’t know them yet. If people give you shit for it at first, so be it.”

“I guess so.” Mira seemed unconvinced.

Isabel pressed on. “It’s harder for women to be out there doing these things. But the labor movement wouldn’t be what it is without us. Especially us queer women.”

“Thanks.” Mira hesitated. “I don’t generally call myself queer, since I only date men, even though I know other people use the word that way. But I take your point.”

A full-body shudder of embarrassment went through Isabel. She’d assumed all this time that Mira was bi. They’d met outside of Volume—but of course straight trans women went there.

There had never been any reason to assume that Mira liked women. Isabel was such an idiot. It served her right for spouting unsolicited inspirational talk.

That wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was that there was no reason to take this so personally. Unless her mistake had just been wishful thinking, which was far worse. All her tender thoughts and feelings about Mira, ones she hadn’t wanted to think about too carefully, were even more humiliating in this light.

Almost nothing fazed her this badly, but right now, Isabel wanted to crawl into a hole. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Mira didn’t seem bothered. “Anyway, thank you again. I hope I can make you proud.”

Isabel forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me. Do it for you.”

6

The computer sciencegrad lounge was more populated than Mira had hoped. One person was wearing pajama pants and typing on his laptop. Another person was engaged in the instantly recognizable activity of grading student midterms. Two people were talking rather loudly over coffee.

Mira took a deep breath, which did nothing to settle her nerves. She shouldn’t have procrastinated on signing up for a slot. Next time she’d pick more familiar territory, but she had to get through this first.

If she didn’t try her best, nobody would know. But that wasn’t the point. She had a goal to accomplish. Like Isabel had said, shewasthe union, and she couldn’t wait for someone else to do it.

Who was the most promising person to talk to? Maybe the woman grading the tall stack of exams. She seemed likely to support contractually limiting everyone’s teaching workload.

Mira took another breath and approached the woman. “Hi.”

No response. Mira noticed the earbuds. “Hi,” she said again, more loudly. The guy wearing pajama pants glared at her.

The woman took an earbud out. “Hi,” she said, not seeming pleased to be interrupted.

“Hi,” Mira repeated once more, feeling ridiculous. “Um, my name’s Mira Levin, and I’m with the Graduate Workers’ Union?—”

“I’m an international student.” The woman started to put her earbud back in.

“International students can be union members, too,” Mira said hastily. She sat down in the facing seat. Should she have asked to sit down first? “You can sign a union card and vote in the election, just like anyone else. In fact, we’re especially interested in listening to the concerns of international students. We have a working group for that.” Mira recalled the advice she’d gotten during training, to always end with a question. “So, uh, have you had any issues with the administration when it comes to your student visa?”

---