The ambulance arrived in eleven minutes.
Maya stood on the sidewalk, waving her phone flashlight. Two paramedics moved past her with a stretcher. One of them asked questions she barely heard. Age? Medical history? Is she on blood thinners?
"I don't know," Maya said. "She's my neighbor. I don't know."
The paramedic nodded and went upstairs.
Maya followed. In Mrs. Patterson's bedroom, the old woman lay still. Her lips were pale. One of the paramedics was checking her pulse. The other was setting up a portable monitor.
"Ma'am," the first paramedic said to Maya. "Does she have family?"
"I don't think so. She never mentioned anyone."
"We're taking her to Brooklyn Methodist. You can ride in the front."
Maya grabbed Mrs. Patterson's keys and locked the apartment door behind her.
---
The emergency room was bright and loud.
Maya sat in a plastic chair in the waiting area. A child cried somewhere behind her. A man argued with the receptionist about his insurance card. The clock on the wall said 9:47 PM.
She'd been there for two hours.
A nurse had come out once. "She's stable. We're running tests." Then nothing else.
Maya's phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. Then she remembered – Leo. She'd saved his number but hadn't labeled it.
How's Mrs. Patterson?
She typed back: Stable. Waiting.
Do you need anything?
No.
I'm nearby. Franklin Ave and Bergen. Coffee shop.
She looked at the time. 9:52 PM. The coffee shop closed at ten.
Don't wait up, she wrote.
I wasn't asking permission.
She put the phone in her pocket.
---
At 10:30, a doctor came out. Late thirties. Dark circles under his eyes. He held a clipboard.
"Are you family?" he asked.
"Neighbor. I found her."
He nodded. "She had a mild heart attack. Not the worst we've seen, but not minor either. We're keeping her overnight for observation. She'll need follow-up care. Lifestyle changes. Medication."
"Can I see her?"
"Five minutes. She's tired."
Mrs. Patterson was in a curtained bay on the third floor. Wires attached to her chest. An IV in her arm. Her eyes were open but unfocused.
Maya pulled a chair next to the bed.
"You scared me," Maya said.
"Scared myself." Mrs. Patterson's voice was thin. "Did I pay the electric bill?"
"It's fine. Don't worry about that."
"Someone has to worry."
Maya took her hand. The skin was dry and cool. "I'll worry. You rest."
The old woman's eyes closed. Her breathing was slow but steady.
Maya stayed for ten minutes. Then she walked back to the waiting room.
Leo was there.
He sat in the plastic chair she'd left. A paper cup of coffee in his hand. He looked up when she walked in.
"The coffee shop closed," he said. "I got the last cup."
"How did you know which hospital?"
"You said Brooklyn Methodist. It's the only one nearby."
She sat next to him. The chair was still warm from his body.
"You didn't have to come," she said.
"I know."
They sat in silence for a minute. The waiting room was emptier now. Just a man sleeping in the corner and a woman watching a muted TV.
"She's going to be okay," Maya said. "Mild attack. She needs rest."
Leo nodded. "What about the building?"
"What about it?"
"The eviction. Who's going to organize if she's out?"
Maya hadn't thought about that. Her stomach tightened.
"I don't know," she said.
---
He walked her home.
The streets were mostly empty. A few cars. A man walking his dog. The bodega on the corner was still open, its fluorescent light spilling onto the sidewalk.
They stopped outside her building.
"Thank you," she said. "For the hospital. For the coffee."
"It's cold now."
"Doesn't matter."
Leo looked at the building. At the dark windows. At the fire escape she'd climbed earlier.
"You should sleep," he said.
"You too."
He turned to go. Then stopped.
"Maya."
"Yeah?"
"The person I know. The one who's been through eviction stuff. I called her."
Maya waited.
"She's a legal aid lawyer. Works with tenants. She said she'd come to the next meeting. If you want."
"I want."
Leo nodded. "I'll text you her name."
He walked toward the alley. Toward the building with the empty third floor and the boiler room basement.
Maya watched until he disappeared.
---
The next morning, she went back to the hospital.
Mrs. Patterson was sitting up. The wires were gone. The IV was still in. A breakfast tray sat untouched on the bedside table. Scrambled eggs. Orange juice. A plastic cup of applesauce.
"You need to eat," Maya said.
"It's cold."
"I'll ask them to warm it up."
"Sit down first."
Maya sat. The chair was the same one from last night.
The old woman looked at her with clear eyes. "You talked to the doctor?"
"Yes."
"He said I can't live alone anymore."
Maya didn't respond.
"I don't have family, Maya. You know that. My Henry's been gone twelve years. My sister's in Florida and she's got her own problems."
"You can stay with me."
"Your apartment doesn't have a bedroom. It's one room."
"I'll sleep on the floor."
Mrs. Patterson shook her head. "You're a terrible liar. Your back would give out in three days."
Maya looked at the floor. The tiles were grey and cracked.
"There are places," Mrs. Patterson continued. "Assisted living. My insurance covers some of it. I've looked into it before."
"You never told me."
"Didn't want to worry you." She reached for Maya's hand. "You're a good kid. But you can't save everyone."
"I'm not trying to save everyone. I'm trying to save you."
"It's the same thing."
Maya squeezed her hand. Then she stood up. "I'm going to find a nurse. Get your eggs warmed up."
"You're not going to cry?"
"No."
"You should. It helps."
Maya walked out of the room. In the hallway, she leaned against the wall and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. No tears came. Just pressure.
She found a nurse. The eggs got warmed up.
---
At noon, she went back to her building.
The tenant list was still on Mrs. Patterson's kitchen table. Maya let herself in with the spare key. She sat down and looked at the names. Eight units. Twelve people. Three of them over sixty-five.
She added Mrs. Patterson's name to a new column: Needs help.
Then she added her own.
She heard a knock on the door frame. Mr. Chen stood in the hallway.
"I heard about Mrs. Patterson," he said. "Is she okay?"
"She'll be fine. But she can't live alone anymore."
Mr. Chen nodded slowly. "My wife had a sister. Same thing. She went to a home in Queens."
"This is different."
"How?"
Maya didn't have an answer. She just shook her head.
Mr. Chen stepped inside. He looked at the tenant list. At the names. At the column Maya had started.
"You're doing this alone?" he asked.
"For now."
"That's too much."
"What choice do I have?"
He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'll help. I know the boiler. I know the pipes. If the landlord tries to cut the heat, I can fix it."
Maya looked at him. "You'd risk your job?"
"I'm the super. I'm supposed to keep the building running." He shrugged. "That's what I'm doing."
She wrote his name in the Help column.
---
That night, she went to the roof.
Not to draw. To think.
The garden looked worse than before. The tomatoes had split. The basil had wilted further. She hadn't watered in two days.
She filled a bucket from the spigot near the water tank and carried it to the plants. Watered each one slowly. The soil drank fast.
When she finished, she sat on the milk crate.
The building across the alley was dark. Third floor. Empty. But she knew Leo was down there. In the basement. In the boiler room. Drawing by a desk lamp that had no window.
She pulled out her phone.
Are you awake? she texted.
A minute later: Yes.
Can you see me?
I can see the roof from the basement? No. No windows, remember.
She almost laughed.
I forgot.
What are you doing up there?
Watering the garden.
The tomatoes need support. The stakes are too short.
I know.
I have longer stakes. In the basement. I can leave them on the fire escape tomorrow.
She looked at the fire escape across the alley. Rusted. Missing a
rung.
Okay, she typed.
Then: Thank you. For last night. For the hospital.
You don't have to thank me.
I know.
She put the phone away and looked at the sky. Clouds had cleared. A few stars were visible. Not many. But some.
She stayed on the roof for another hour. Then she went down.