Sunday morning, Maya woke to the sound of rain.
It came down hard, drumming on the fire escape, sliding down the window glass in thick streams. She lay in bed and listened. The roof garden would be flooded. The tomatoes didn't like too much water. Neither did the basil.
She checked her phone. 7:15 AM. A text from Leo, sent at 6:50.
The garden is fine. I covered the pots with plastic from the hardware store. Checked at 6.
She stared at the screen. He'd gone up to her roof in the rain. Before sunrise.
She typed back: You didn't have to do that.
I was awake.
Why?
Couldn't sleep. Bad dreams.
She wanted to ask what kind. But she didn't.
---
At 9 AM, she went to the hotel.
Irene was in the lobby, drinking coffee from a styrofoam cup. She looked up when Maya walked in.
"She's ready," Irene said. "The facility called. They can take her at noon."
Maya nodded. "Do you need help packing?"
"There's nothing to pack. She came with nothing."
They went up to the room. Mrs. Patterson was sitting in the chair by the window. She wore the same floral blouse and grey slacks. Her hair was brushed. Her hands were folded in her lap.
"Irene told me you're coming," Mrs. Patterson said to Maya.
"I'm not going to miss it."
"You have better things to do."
"I don't."
The old woman looked at her. Then she looked at Irene. Then back at Maya. "You're both very stubborn."
"Runs in the family," Irene said.
Mrs. Patterson almost smiled.
---
The facility was in Crown Heights, twenty minutes by car.
Irene drove a rental – a small grey sedan that smelled of air freshener. Maya sat in the back with Mrs. Patterson. The old woman held her hand the whole way.
The building was brick, three stories, with a ramp leading to the front door. A woman at the reception desk smiled too brightly. She handed Irene a stack of forms.
"Eleanor Patterson, room 217. Second floor, east wing."
Maya helped Mrs. Patterson out of the car. The old woman's legs were unsteady. She leaned on Maya's arm.
The room was small but clean. A bed, a nightstand, a dresser, a window that faced a brick wall. Mrs. Patterson sat on the bed and looked around.
"It's not home," she said.
"No," Maya said. "It's not."
"But it's safe."
Maya didn't know what to say to that. So she just sat next to her and held her hand.
Irene filled out the forms at the nurses' station. When she came back, her face was tired.
"I need to go back to Tampa tomorrow," Irene said. "I have appointments. But I'll come back in a month."
"You don't have to," Mrs. Patterson said.
"I know."
The three of them sat in the small room. The rain had stopped. Sunlight came through the window, but it didn't reach the bed.
---
Maya left at 2 PM.
She walked to the subway. The train was crowded. She stood holding a pole, watching the tunnels flash past. At her stop, she climbed the stairs to the street.
The sky had cleared. The sidewalk was wet. A child rode a scooter through a puddle.
She walked to her building. Mr. Chen was in the lobby, changing a lightbulb.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Settled. Not happy. But settled."
He nodded. "That's the best we can hope for sometimes."
She went up to her room. The black sketchbook was still in the drawer. She took it out and looked at the drawing of her garden. Then she turned to the back cover. The note. I'm not a creep. Just a neighbor.
She pulled out her phone.
Mrs. Patterson is in the facility. She's okay.
Leo's response came quickly: That's good.
What were your bad dreams about?
A long pause. Almost a minute.
My mother. The hospital. The way she looked at the end.
Maya stared at the screen. She didn't know what to say.
I'm sorry, she typed.
It was a long time ago.
That doesn't make it easier.
Another pause.
No, he wrote. It doesn't.
She put the phone down.
---
At 5 PM, she went to the roof.
The plastic covers Leo had put over the pots were still there – clear sheeting, held down with rubber bands. She peeled them back. The soil was damp but not soaked. The tomatoes looked fine. The basil had perked up.
She sat on the milk crate and looked at the sky. The clouds were gone. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the tar paper.
The roof door creaked.
She turned. Leo walked out, holding two paper cups.
"I brought coffee," he said. "From the bodega. It's not good."
"I don't care."
He handed her a cup and sat on the edge of the roof, a few feet away. The same spot as before.
They drank in silence.
"The meeting is Tuesday," Maya said. "You said the lawyer would come."
"She confirmed. Her name is Vanessa. She's done this before."
"What's her story?"
"Public defender for ten years. Then legal aid. She likes lost causes."
Maya looked at him. "Is that what we are? A lost cause?"
Leo shook his head. "No. But she likes us anyway."
She almost laughed. Almost.
---
The sun went down. The city lights came on.
"I should go," Maya said. "I have to prepare for the meeting. Flyers. Notes."
"I can help."
"You don't have to."
"I know." He stood. "But I want to."
They went down to her room. It was the first time he'd seen it. The mattress on the floor. The desk made from a door. The clothes on the folding chair. The cracked ceiling.
He didn't say anything. He just looked.
Maya pulled out the tenant list and spread it on the desk. "These are the people who said yes. These are the maybes. These are the no responses."
Leo looked at the columns. "You need more maybes."
"I know."
"Can I make copies of the flyer? The basement has a copier. Mr. Haddad lets me use it."
"You have a copier in the basement?"
"It's old. It works."
She handed him the flyer she'd made – a simple sheet with the meeting time, the location, and a phone number. Tenant Rights Meeting. Tuesday, 7 PM. 447 Franklin Avenue, Apt 3A.
"I'll put copies in every mailbox," Leo said.
"You don't live here."
"They won't know that."
She looked at him. "You're doing a lot for someone who doesn't have a stake in this."
"I have a stake."
"What stake?"
He folded the flyer and put it in his pocket. "I'll be back in an hour."
He left before she could ask again.
---
He came back at 8 PM with fifty copies.
They spent the next two hours sliding flyers under doors. Mr. Chen helped. Marco helped. Jasmine from 5B helped between shifts.
By 10 PM, every unit had a flyer.
Maya stood in the hallway, exhausted. Leo leaned against the wall.
"You should sleep," he said.
"You too."
He nodded. Then he walked to the stairwell. At the door, he stopped.
"Maya."
"Yeah?"
"The stake. You asked what it was."
She waited.
He didn't turn around. "You."
Then he went down the stairs.
---
Maya stood in the hallway for a long time.
The light was steady. No flickering. Mr. Chen had fixed it.
She went to her room and lay on the mattress. The ceiling crack looked like a river. She followed it until her eyes closed.
---
Monday morning. One day before the meeting.
She woke early and went to the roof. The garden needed water. The soil was dry again. She filled the bucket from the spigot and carried it to the plants.
The tomatoes were standing straight. The basil had new green leaves at the base. She touched one gently.
Her phone buzzed.
Leo: Vanessa confirmed. She'll be there at 6:45 to set up.
She typed back: Good.
How are you?
Tired.
That's honest.
I'm trying something new.
She put the phone down and finished watering. Then she sat on the milk crate and looked at the buailding across the alley.
Third floor. Empty. But somewhere below, in a basement with no windows, a man was drawing by a desk lamp.
A man who said his stake was her.
She didn't know what to do with that.
So she went down and started preparing for the meeting.