Page 33 of Make Room for Love

“What do you mean?”

“You probably won’t be rude to them unless you’re trying to be. You’re too nice for that.” Mira frowned. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Isabel added. “You’ll feel better if you get it over with.”

“That’s true. And I don’t want to second-guess myself.” Mira picked up her phone again, and typed and retyped for over a minute before setting it down. “And now I’m right back where I started. Maybe next weekend there’ll be openings for December 15th, too. I’ll just have to keep trying.”

Isabel nodded. They continued eating. Then Mira said, “I was thinking… I don’t know if this is a bad idea.”

“What is it?”

“What if I stayed in the apartment, and found someone else to take your bedroom? I know that’s easier said than done. Especially because, honestly, I think I’d have to start paying more in rent. You’ve been really generous.” Mira smiled weakly. “You wouldn’t have to deal with the landlord showing people the apartment while you’re trying to pack. Just me doing it.”

Isabel gaped at her. There was another solution staring them in the face, so tempting that Isabel was afraid to think about it. She couldn’t hurt Mira if Mira was moving out in a few weeks.

But if they lived together for the nextyear…

She had to calm down. Mira wasn’t asking her to stay. Maybe Mira had assumed, reasonably, that Isabel didn’t want to. Or maybe she didn’t actually want Isabel as a roommate any longer. Mira could get along with just about anyone, and she might want a nicer roommate with less baggage. Isabel wasn’t going to put her in the position of having to say which it was.

“Sure,” Isabel said. “If you want to find someone else to renew the lease with, I won’t stop you. It might make it easier for me if you took some of my things. I have a lot I don’t need.”

“I can do that. That’s kind of you.”

“I’ll call the rental office, but you’ll have to find someone soon. They’ll start showing the place on December 1st.”

Mira opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it. Finally, she said, “Okay. I’ll try my best.”

15

On the trainback to the city, Isabel came closer to crying than she had in a long time. Her grief was just below the surface, raw and frightening and unmanageable, threatening to break through her numbness. But the tears didn’t fall.

It was a long ride back to her stop, and the sky darkened as the train rumbled through Long Island. Isabel hated this time of year. She hated how the nights grew longer and the cold worked its way into her bones. She hated counting down the days until the anniversary of Alexa’s death. This was only the second year of the rest of her life without her sister. How was she supposed to go on living like this?

Seeing her family had been as painful as she’d feared: Grace pointedly not speaking to her while their parents and grandmother looked on with disappointment. All of them silently remembering Thanksgiving two years ago, the last time they would all be together ever again. Staying the night at her parents’ invitation, knowing it was more for them than for her. Seeing her mother’s hair turning gray and her father struggling with his back pain. She had done some repairs around the house for them this morning, grateful for the opportunity to be useful,trying to not think about how her parents would need her even more as they got older.

She wanted to be home. At her stop, she trudged to the subway, gritting her teeth at the loud, excited people with their Black Friday shopping bags.

Would Mira be home? Did shewantMira to be home? She didn’t want Mira to see her like this. But coming home to a dark, empty apartment might be even worse.

When she turned onto her block, the light was on in the window. Isabel was relieved, and then surprised by her own reaction. At the door to the apartment, she took a second to pull herself together.

Then an unfamiliar voice came from inside.

Right. Mira was showing the apartment to people this evening. Isabel’s jealousy surged. That washerhome, and Mira washer?—

Mira wasn’t her anything.

Frustration and exhaustion overwhelmed her. She had no idea how she felt about seeing Mira, but facing a stranger would be unbearable. The ladder to the roof hatch was just outside their door. It was narrow, rickety, and probably not up to code, to the point where it always made Isabel nervous. But now, without stopping to think, she started climbing.

At the top, she unlatched the door with one hand and pulled herself up through the hatch. The wind was bracing. She closed the hatch most of the way and sat on the elevated rim. It was too cold to be comfortable, but maybe Isabel deserved it. She was alone in the darkness, cut off from the world below.

She’d been so eager to leave the apartment and its memories behind. But now all she wanted to do was take refuge inside it. Thinking about Mira finding someone to take her place felt like prodding at a bruise.

She was going to miss hearing about Mira’s union organizing—something that gave Isabel hope, even from the sidelines, when so little else in her life did. She was going to miss having someone to cook for. She knew herself well enough to know that she’d go back to eating fried rice and ramen every night.

She was going to miss Mira. The way she could be so soft, and then so sharp and funny in an instant. The way she made Isabel ache, which was better than being numb for all those months before she’d caught sight of Mira under the streetlights. Isabel hadn’t known it then, but it was the moment when her life as she knew it had begun to come apart.

There was a thump below her like someone was trying to climb up. Isabel stood up, shaken from her thoughts, and opened the hatch. Mira was more than halfway up the narrow ladder, clinging to it like she’d never climbed a ladder in her life. Her eyes widened when she saw Isabel.

Isabel called down, “What are you doing up here?”

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