Page 24 of Make Room for Love

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring that up.”

A happy running toddler weaved past them, and then another, followed by their parents. “No, it’s okay. Although I’d rather be here, that’s for sure.”

“I worked on some of the high-rises going up along the old waterfront there.” Isabel shrugged. “Nice view, if you can afford it.”

“I lived in one of those.” Isabel’s eyebrows lifted. Mira, after all, was just a broke grad student. “Dylan had a condo. His parents were rich and he got his big break with his novel.”

Isabel remained silent. Mira flushed. Was Isabel judging her?

She knew what it looked like. She’d been taken care of by her rich boyfriend. What was there to complain about? Isabel had had the worst possible first impression of him, but maybe she was changing her mind. “I mean, I did pay for half the utilities and groceries and some other things,” Mira rushed to add. “But I never really felt like it was my home. It was his condo, and almost everything in it was his, even though I was always cleaning up after him. But on the bright side, not having anything meant that it was easy to move out after I dumped him, at least.”

Hopefully she could change the subject now. Isabel’s unreadable reaction made her anxious.

“You weren’t paying any rent before you moved here?” Isabel said.

“No, I wasn’t.” This was bewildering. Was Isabel actually taking his side?

Isabel opened her mouth and closed it. Finally, she said, “Is it hard for you to pay rent? I mean, if it’s too much. Because I figured?—”

“What are you saying?” That came out more sharply than Mira had intended.

Isabel was startled out of her usual impassive expression. “I don’t like the idea of you paying more than you can afford when you’re getting started on your own again.” She hesitated. “I thought if it was too much, you could pay less.”

“No.That’s okay.” Maybe Isabel wasn’t chastising her for being a kept woman, but the relief didn’t come. Isabel didn’t like theideaof it, as though the shape of Mira’s life were up to Isabel to decide. “Thanks, but I don’t need your help.”

She took a breath and tried to calm down, to stop being so oversensitive. She shouldn’t have brought up living with Dylan. It was never going to end well, and she was ruining their outing. God knew what Isabel thought of her now. “Sorry. It’s kind of you. But there are so many other people who have it worse, and you don’t need to help me.”

“I just meant…” Isabel ran a hand through her long, thick hair, stirred up by the breeze from the water. “I just want to make things fair. If you’re struggling?—”

“I’m not.” This was untrue in any sense of the term, but it didn’t matter. “It’s not fair that either of us, or anyone, has to pay this much money just to have a place to live. But I can take care of myself.” She had to stay calm and reasonable. She had to suppress the rising tide of anger.

“I didn’t mean to say you couldn’t.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Things are easier for me financially. That’s all I meant.”

Anger crashed over Mira in a wave, and with it came the undertow of shame. Isabel was financially secure, strong, and in control of her life, and Mira wasn’t any of those things. Isabel could be benevolent from on high, and Mira would remain where she was, struggling and vulnerable and grateful.

That had been how Isabel had viewed her all along. Mira couldn’t be her equal or her friend. It was the truth, but Mira didn’t want the reminder of it. “I don’t need your charity.”

“I didn’t mean—” Isabel cut herself off. “Forget I said anything.”

Mira sighed. The anger was draining from her, leaving behind hollowness and regret. Isabel was clearly being sincere. And a bit of extra money in her bank account every month would make a difference; a lot of her savings had gone toward buying new things after the move. Maybe it had been stupid to say no. But Isabel was already undercharging her, even though they’d never acknowledged it, and she was uneasy enough about that.

There was nothing wrong with Isabel’s offer that Mira could articulate. But she was sick of being so powerless that even her roommate noticed and offered to help. She’d been feeling good about her union organizing, about getting her life back in order. But as long as she wasn’t making more money, she’d be stuck where she was.

“I’m sorry,” Mira said. Her jaw and shoulders were tight. She couldn’t afford to get visibly angry. She knew how she’d come off to Isabel and all the passersby: aggressive, hysterical, threatening.

Isabel shook her head. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It really is kind of you to offer. But I don’t need it. I managed to save some money while I was living with Dylan. And it helps to not be living in an expensive neighborhood and having to keep up with someone’s rising literary star lifestyle.” These days, thinking of her past life with Dylan was like recalling a surreal nightmare. “And, you know, it’s not just me. This is how it is for a lot of us grad students, or at least the ones who aren’t supported by their families. That’s why we’re trying so hard to unionize.”

Isabel nodded. “Look, it’s your business. I shouldn’t have jumped to offering that.” She ran a hand through her hair again. Mira realized, suddenly, that what she’d thought of as asuave gesture was something Isabel did when she was nervous. “Sorry.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” It was time to move on, before Isabel got the idea that Mira was unreasonable and difficult and that she’d had it coming to her. “I’m sorry I was”—she almost saidoversensitive—“rude about it to you.” She took another deep breath, trying to release the tension choking her. “This breakup has been hard on me.”

It wasn’t really the breakup. That had been the only good part. But she didn’t want to elaborate.

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