Page 28 of Make Room for Love

It was funny how her roommate took more of an interest in what she did at work than her ex-boyfriend of two years ever had. “We’re doing well, thanks for asking. We have fewer than ahundred left to go, and we’ll be over our goal by the end of the semester. It looks like we’re on track to have the election next spring.”

They talked about their days. Isabel was having a late dinner because she’d been translating for her aunt at the doctor’s office. She was an exemplary niece, too, on top of everything else. Mira mentioned the apartments she was seeing this weekend, in her attempt to move out at the end of the month, and Isabel displayed no obvious reaction.

“Do you have any plans for the holidays?” Mira asked, after the lull that followed.

“I’ll see my family for Thanksgiving. They’re out in the suburbs on Long Island.” Isabel’s face had turned blank, and Mira realized, too late, that she’d brought up Isabel’s family. “My sister died on December 5th two years ago. It’s not an easy time.”

“Oh, Isabel, I’m so sorry.” Mira’s heart broke for Isabel all over again. “I can imagine the holidays must be painful.” She hesitated. Did Isabel even want condolences? “May her memory be a blessing.”

Isabel blinked. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.” She looked down at her fried rice. “We’ll visit Alexa’s grave close to the day. Then I might see them on Christmas. That’s not a big thing for us. At least not for me.”

“Does it help to see your family?” Mira was taking a risk in asking questions. Maybe Isabel wanted to be left alone. If their roles were reversed, Isabel wouldn’t say anything at all, and she’d simply let Mira talk as much or as little as she wanted. But, like Isabel had said, Mira had to find her own way of doing things.

Isabel sighed. “I think it helps my parents to see me. I just wish I could make things easier for them.”

She looked stiff and somehow small sitting at the table, her eyes downcast. She hadn’t actually answered the question, norhad she brought up the younger sister she’d once mentioned—presumably, the other bridesmaid in the photo Isabel had on her bookshelf. “It’s good of you to be there for them,” Mira said, treading carefully. “I’m sure they’re happy you’re there.”

Isabel nodded. They ate in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but Isabel’s mind was clearly elsewhere, leaving Mira to wonder about some things. Why did Isabel go to such great lengths to care for her relatives when she didn’t seem to want to be around them? Did Isabel want to be aroundanyone? What did she do when she wasn’t working or taking care of her family?

When they were done eating, Mira grabbed Isabel’s bowl before she could object, headed to the sink, and started on the dishes. “Are you going to bed?” she asked. “It’s a late dinner for you.”

“Maybe in an hour. I might, uh… I might do some reading or something.” Isabel stood up behind Mira. “Let me help.”

“No, you cooked. What are you reading?” Isabel was always holed up in her bedroom when she was at home, and what she did in there was yet another mystery.

Isabel came over and started drying dishes next to her anyway. Her forearms were distractingly thick, flexing as she moved, tanned by the sun. There was barely any space between the sink and the countertop next to it, so they had to stand close together. It was one of the many quirks of their kitchen, which wasn’t quite big enough for two. “Nothing right now,” Isabel said. “I finishedThe Left Hand of Darknessagain.” She paused, not looking at Mira. “It’s different, reading it after Alexa died.”

Mira had wept the first time she finished the novel years ago, and she’d never lost anyone close to her. A friendship between two very different people who came together as equals, sublime in its intimacy and love—maybe Isabel had had that with her sister. “It’s devastating, isn’t it?”

Isabel gave the smallest nod, one Mira might not have seen if she weren’t standing only a few inches away. That was answer enough.

They went on washing and drying the dishes, settling into a rhythm. Standing this close together, Mira sensed every one of Isabel’s movements as they worked. There was something about Isabel’s self-assured, solid presence that set Mira thrumming merely from being nearby, like a tuning fork resonating at exactly the right pitch. A little excited, a little buzzy, but calm, too, like she was where she was meant to be.

And she was. It felt good to wash Isabel’s homey, mismatched dishes together. It felt good to come back to the apartment after a long day, turn on the lamps in the living room, and let herself decompress before starting on her work again at the familiar table. This was how being at home was supposed to feel. Like she was warm and safe, like she could breathe.

But she was leaving soon. Maybe in just a few weeks.

Once they were done, Mira said, “I hope I’m not bothering you by working at the table all the time?—”

“You’re not.”

Mira smiled as she dried her hands. “What I was going to say is, you know I wouldn’t mind if you read or did other things in the living room. Not that you have to, of course. I just hate to think I’m crowding you out.”

“No, you’re not.” Isabel looked at the living room, as though seeing something that Mira didn’t. “I don’t have anything against it. I could use a change of pace.”

13

Isabel settledon the armchair with an old sci-fi paperback, with Mira halfway across the room grading papers. When was the last time she’d sat in her own living room just to relax? She couldn’t remember. And she hadn’t expected both how familiar and how unfamiliar it would be.

The apartment had changed. In the last few months, slowly but surely, it had turned back into a real home. This wasn’t the dark, empty apartment she’d been used to, but it wasn’t the one she’d shared with Reina, either. Mira’s fingerprints were everywhere: the plants thriving thanks to her friend Frankie’s advice, her jars of lentils in the pantry, her hair clips and forgotten mugs of tea spreading to increasingly unlikely places.

Most of all, there was Mira herself, sitting at the table with her glasses perched on her nose and the end of her pen resting on her lower lip. Occasionally a smile or a frown would flit across her face, and she would write something down on her student’s paper. She was so lovely that it hurt to look at her. But Isabel looked, anyway.

She’d tried to avoid Mira for a while. It hadn’t dampened her feelings. It had just made her lonely, and with her looming family obligations, she couldn’t handle spending anotherevening alone. If that was selfish…well, she was weak. But being in the same room as Mira was stirring up the emotions she was having trouble keeping on a short leash. Or any leash at all.

Mira looked up, caught her gaze, and quickly looked down. Isabel was chastened. She returned to her book and ended up reading the same technobabble-filled sentence for several minutes. Classic hard sci-fi had always been her escape from the real world. But it wasn’t doing its job tonight.

Once again, she found herself looking at Mira, who was shuffling her papers. Mira noticed. “How’s the book?”

---