Page 5 of Make Room for Love
If Mira was already here, there was no harm in asking some questions. Isabel sat on the other side of the couch. Her kneethrobbed, and she winced. “Let’s talk about what we’re looking for. I mentioned the important things. No loud noise after nine p.m. since I get up for work early. And I want the apartment to stay as clean as it is right now. I don’t cook much, so the kitchen’s mostly yours.”
“That’s all fine with me.” Mira was fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. Her nails were a pale pink. “Um, I’m a grad student, and I usually work until pretty late. I work mostly out of my office on campus, so you won’t have to deal with me being around except in the evenings. I cook a few times a week. And I might occasionally have a friend over.” She took a deep breath. “As for what I’m looking for, I guess I just want a quiet place to live, now that I’m by myself. I don’t need much else.”
Guilt gnawed at Isabel. She couldn’t just tell Mira to go away. The ex-boyfriend had been a real piece of work, and Mira had been afraid.
People had to look out for each other. If she didn’t want Mira to be in danger, she had to give Mira a place to live. And this shy mouse of a grad student wasn’t going to cause Isabel any problems. Even if she did, they’d both be out of here in a few months.
“Out of curiosity, what do you do for work that makes you wake up so early?” Mira asked.
“I’m a union electrician.” Isabel forced herself to smile. If they were going to be roommates, she’d have to get used to small talk.
“Oh, wow!” Mira hesitated. Isabel wasn’t surprised. A lot of people, including most of Reina’s artist friends, had no idea how to make conversation with a construction worker. “I read about the strike at the power plant that ended last month,” Mira continued. “I’m sorry it didn’t go the way you all wanted.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Isabel had walked the picket lines for months, all through the sweltering summer, when she wasn’tworking at her own job. The contract negotiations had still fallen through. She hadn’t expected Mira, of all people, to know that. “Is that related to what you study, or something?”
Mira smiled. She had a cute smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. It was surprising to see her with an expression that wasn’t scared or anxious. “No, I’m a classicist. But the grad students at my university are organizing a union. We try to stay informed on the labor movement more broadly.”
Huh. “How’s that going? Are they trying to union-bust you?”
Mira let out a loud, ringing laugh that was surprisingly endearing. “Oh, yes. Absolutely. We do most of the teaching at the university and a lot of the research grunt work, and the university insists we’re not workers, we’re just students, and we should be grateful for the so-called training we get. The undergrads pay sixty thousand dollars a year to attend, and the university has a multi-billion-dollar endowment, but they won’t pay a living wage to those of us who are actually teaching the classes.”
That sounded about right. Mira sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on about it. It’s just that after five years of grad school, starting my sixth, I’m sick of it.”
Isabel gave her a smile. A real one, this time. “You don’t have to convince me. I’m not on your bosses’ side.”
Mira’s posture loosened up. Isabel was relieved, too. There was no point to Mira feeling like she was being interrogated. “They’re trying to squeeze more work out of us, and it’s bad for the undergrads, too. I can’t teach Latin to forty students and do a thorough job of grading all their papers every week. And it makes mefuriouswhen the administration tells us that we’re trying to shirk our duties, or that we’re going to compromise the undergrads’ education if we unionize. The university couldn’t function if we all stopped teaching—if we stopped leading recitations and grading homework and exams and having officehours. Theyknowthat”—Mira made a gesture for emphasis, making her curls bounce—“which is why they’re afraid of us.”
Mira’s eyes were bright. She’d turned into a different person. But she wasn’t—that fiery core had been there all along. Why had this woman been with a boyfriend likethat? Isabel would never know. “Well, I respect that. And if you ever go on strike and we’re working on your campus, we’re not going to cross the picket line.”
“Thank you.” Mira looked down for a moment, her self-consciousness returning. “We have a long way to go. We’re going to start asking people to sign union cards soon, to show they want the union to represent them. And once we get enough people to sign cards, we’ll have an election to force the university to recognize us and bargain with us.” She took a breath. “I think we can win. But it’ll be a lot of work, on top of all the teaching and other work we have to do. And, of course, our own research. The supposed reason why I’m in grad school in the first place.”
Mira paused and looked at Isabel, as though gauging Isabel’s reaction, with those big, brown eyes. Desire pierced Isabel like a lightning bolt.
Mira wasn’t just pretty. When she was animated, she was beautiful. In this dreary apartment, everything about her stood in sharp relief: the striking planes of her face, the rich plum lipstick playing up the curve of her mouth, the way her nearly black curls turned red and gold where they caught the afternoon light.
And the conviction in her voice, and the fire in her eyes. Mira wasn’t as timid as she’d seemed, and it was driving Isabel wild.
Apparently Isabel’s interest in women was reawakening after the months she’d spent alone. It wasn’t personal, and it didn’t mean anything. She hadn’t so much as flirted with anyone since Reina left. Of course the first attractive woman to cross her path would light her up like this.
Never mind that she’d seen plenty of beautiful women at the club, all dressed to impress. None of them had set Isabel on fire like this grad student in a cute little sweater talking about labor organizing in Isabel’s living room.
It didn’t matter. She was here to find a roommate, not a replacement for her ex. “Well, uh, good luck.” She winced. Was that really the best she could come up with? “So you said you study Classics? Like, Ancient Rome?” Mira nodded. “What’s your research about?”
“Oh, well, I study Greek and Latin poetry. Um, my dissertation is about Latin lyric poetry—you know, Horace and Catullus—and its relationship to the earlier Greek models. I don’t know if you’re familiar…” Mira trailed off. Isabel shook her head, eager to hear more.
“Oh.” Mira looked at her lap. A ringlet of dark hair fell over her face. “Well, never mind. I don’t want to bore you.”
That stung a little. Not for any real reason. Maybe Isabel wouldn’t understand, anyway. But she was good with languages. She spoke better Cantonese than either of her sisters ever had, and her Spanish was decent, too.
She’d gotten too comfortable with Mira. Was she really this starved for conversation? Mira didn’t have to talk to her, and she didn’t have to talk to Mira. They didn’t have to be friends. “Well, let me know if you want to take the room,” she said, more stiffly than she’d intended.
“Right,” Mira said. Isabel stood, and Mira scrambled to stand, too. “Um, actually, I’ve decided that I do want the room. If that’s okay.”
“Sure.” There was no backing out now. She had a roommate. Just for a few months, and then she could go back to being alone.
Mira wasqueasy from the drive as she rang the doorbell to her new building—three stories tall, like its neighbors on the block, with a humble laundromat on the first floor. Isabel opened the door, wearing a gray sweatshirt, jeans, and slippers.
Seeing Isabel in her soft-looking house clothes was disarming. Although Isabel herself didn’t look soft, and she didn’t smile.