Page 31 of Make Room for Love

That was something she might not have done back in September, when she’d been crushed by the breakup and by the last two years. At least she’d had these precious months to start picking herself back up. It was a bitter victory. But her shoulders relaxed only after she walked back out into the cold rain and let herself breathe.

She longed to go home—which was to say, back to Isabel’s apartment. Isabel wasn’t superficially polite; she was barely polite at all. But she was honest even when she was gruff, and she had always been fundamentally decent to Mira in a way no amount of overcompensating niceness could substitute for.

There was more to Isabel than basic decency. But it was infuriating that the bar was so low.

On to the next apartment. The bedroom had no window, which had not been clear from the photos but did explain why it was so affordable.Not again.In a better mood, Mira might have considered it, but she wished the current inhabitants good luck and went on her way.

Another subway ride, and then an artist with three beautiful, cuddly long-haired cats who hadn’t been mentioned in the ad. They climbed all over Mira as she introduced herself for the third time that day, eyes watering. She sneezed profusely on the train to the next apartment, cat hair clinging to her clothes. Allergy meds weren’t going to cut it. She was going to be sneezing for days.

On the train, a text from Isabel arrived.When are you getting home?

Mira was overcome by longing so hot it bordered on frustration. She could have gotten used to grading papers while Isabel read on the couch, and waking up to good coffee every morning, and occasionally having dinner together and going on walks to the park. It was the quiet life she’d wanted, forever out of reach.

Mira texted her back. Another notification popped up. The apartment she was about to see had “just been taken.” But was Mira free to see a different apartment all the way across the city?

No, she was not. Someone had tried to pull this scam on her yesterday. Who the hell did they think she was? After the day she’d had, she let herself indulge in some righteous anger. But she was relieved, too.

She opened up her texts with Isabel again.Actually, I’ll be back earlier than that.She could finally go home.

Isabel had been too ambitious.She was a competent cook. But it had been too long since she’d put in the effort, and Mira had put things back in the cabinets seemingly at random. Dinner was coming together more slowly than Isabel wanted.

The door unlocked behind her, and she turned around. Mira entered, soggy from the rain, worn out after another day ofapartment hunting. She greeted Isabel and slipped her coat off. “That smells good. What are you making?”

Isabel hesitated. The answer was that she was cooking for Mira again. It had been embarrassing to make her the most basic fried rice imaginable the other night with whatever vegetables Isabel had scrounged up from the freezer. It was one thing for Isabel to make it for herself, and another thing to serve it to Mira, as though she couldn’t do any better.

And it was about time that something was easy for Mira. She deserved to just come home and sit down to a nice dinner, for once, no matter what else was going on in her life. “I, uh… I was just making dinner for myself. You can have some if you want.”

“Oh my goodness, you’re wonderful,” Mira said. She was joking, but Isabel’s chest fluttered regardless. This was why being around Mira was dangerous. “I don’t intend to make a habit of having you cook for me,” Mira continued. “I’ve just had an awful weekend.”

“That bad?” For months, all Isabel had looked forward to was moving out. But reality was looming for her, too. Soon, she’d have to pack up everything and move into some barren new apartment. She’d be living alone. That didn’t comfort her the way it used to.

“Yeah, it was. Can I help you at all?”

“I’m fine,” Isabel said instinctively. Then she glanced at the pea leaves and bitter melon yet to be washed and chopped. She hadn’t started the rice, either. She sighed. “Actually…”

“I do know how to cook, you know. I don’t just eat whatever my roommate makes for dinner.”

Isabel smiled. “Do you want to wash and roughly chop those?” She nodded toward the big bundle of pea leaves.

The kitchen wasn’t big, and Isabel didn’t usually like to share. Her ex had hated cooking, so it hadn’t been a problem, but she had sometimes shooed even her mom and sisters out ofthe kitchen during their visits. No matter how much she craved being around Mira, she was preparing to grit her teeth at least a little.

But they made room for each other, Mira washing the pea leaves in the sink in the big colander as Isabel scooped rice into the rice cooker. It was such a simple pleasure to measure out enough for two people. She stepped to the side as Mira started chopping the pea leaves next to her, their arms and hips almost touching.

Mira was sneezing more than usual. Hopefully she wasn’t getting sick. But if she was, at least Isabel would be around to take care of her.

“Do you want it smaller than this?” Mira asked, holding up a piece. “What are these greens, by the way?”

“No, that’s good. They’re pea leaves.” Isabel walked behind her to rinse the rice in the sink, and Mira made room. Isabel let the milky-white water run down the drain, distracted by Mira’s elegant hands and her dark blue nails as she worked. “They taste like peas. You’ll see.”

She turned on the rice cooker as Mira continued chopping. Once Mira was done, she turned to the knobby bitter melon. “I haven’t had pavakkai since my dad made it for me. You know, I haven’t really thought about what it’s called in English, since I’ve never tried to buy it.”

“You don’t like it? I didn’t know it’s used in Indian food. I was wondering what you’d think.” Isabel wasn’t doing a great job of pretending she hadn’t made all this for Mira, but maybe it didn’t matter.

“I don’t mean that,” Mira said. She cored the bitter melon and started chopping it into half-moons. Not what Isabel would have done, but that was fine. “I’m sure I’ll like the way you cook it.”

Isabel smiled. She leaned against the counter, taking a break to watch Mira work. Her hair was damp and frizzy from the rain, and she had on a silky blouse, a pencil skirt, and dark tights, slightly sheer in that way that highlighted every curve of her legs. She’d been trying to make a good impression today, not that it had done her much good. Her feet were otherwise bare on Isabel’s scuffed kitchen floor.

Isabel wanted to get her out of those constricting clothes and wrap her in a fluffy robe. Unwrap her once she was warm and dry. Make her feel nice and relaxed like she had nothing in the world to worry about. Kiss her good night, let her sleep, wake up to her in this apartment every morning.

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