Page 70 of Make Room for Love

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 hurriedup 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 andprocess 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. Shewashungry 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.”

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