The sun was fully up when Maya finally closed her eyes.
She lay on the floor of the sixth floor apartment, her head on a rolled-up hoodie, Leo's hand resting on her shoulder. The desk lamp had burned out hours ago. The room was grey with morning light.
She slept for two hours. Then her phone buzzed.
Vanessa: Haddad called. He wants to meet. Today. 2 PM.
Maya sat up. Her neck ached from the floor. Leo was already awake, sitting by the window, drawing.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Haddad wants to meet."
"About the inspection?"
"Probably."
She stood up and stretched. Her back cracked. She walked to the window. The street below was busy. The bodega's awning flapped in the wind.
"Are you coming?" she asked.
"Do you want me to?"
"Yes."
He closed his sketchbook. "Then I'm coming."
---
They met Mr. Chen in the lobby at 1:30.
Marco was there too. Jasmine had texted that she couldn't make it – she was working a double shift. Mr. Delgado said he'd come if they needed him, but Maya told him to rest.
Four of them. Plus Leo. That was enough.
Haddad's office was the same as before. Narrow stairs. Yellowed walls. The receptionist with purple hair.
They waited ten minutes. Then Haddad opened his door and gestured them inside.
He looked different than the last time. Tired. The skin under his eyes was puffy. His suit was the same grey one, but his tie was loose.
"Sit down," he said.
They sat. Leo stood by the door.
"The city inspection," Haddad said. "You didn't tell me."
"You didn't ask," Maya said.
Haddad's jaw tightened. "The report lists twelve violations. Twelve. That's going to cost me thousands."
"Then fix them."
"I can't fix them all. The building is old. The boiler needs replacement. The windows need replacement. The plumbing needs replacement." He spread his hands. "That's a hundred thousand dollars. Minimum."
"Then sell the building to someone who will fix it."
"No one will buy a building with twelve violations."
"Then lower the price."
Haddad stared at her. "You're playing a game you don't understand."
"Then explain it."
He leaned back in his chair. "The buyer I had – the one who was interested – they pulled out this morning. Because of the violations."
Maya's heart jumped. "The building isn't being sold?"
"Not to them. Maybe not to anyone. Not with the current condition."
She looked at Mr. Chen. His face was unreadable. Marco was staring at the floor. Leo was watching Haddad.
"So what happens now?" Maya asked.
"Now I make repairs. The cheapest ones I can get away with. I patch the boiler. I patch the windows. I patch the plumbing." Haddad shrugged. "And I raise the rent to cover the costs."
"You can't raise the rent. The judge denied the increase."
"For now. But I can apply again. Different reasons. Different judge." He picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk. "You've made my life difficult, Ms. Reyes. I won't forget that."
Maya stood up. "We're not finished."
"Yes, you are. For now."
They left the office. On the sidewalk, Mr. Chen shook his head.
"He's not going to fix anything," Mr. Chen said. "He's going to do the bare minimum."
"I know."
"Then why did we go?"
"To see his face. To know where he stands." Maya looked at Leo. "What did you think?"
Leo was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "He's scared. Not of you. Of the money. The repairs are going to cost him. The lost buyer is going to cost him. He's bleeding."
"Good."
"Don't celebrate yet. Scared people do desperate things."
---
That night, Maya went to the facility.
Mrs. Patterson was in the common room. The game show was on. The volume was low. She was alone.
"The buyer pulled out," Maya said. "The building isn't being sold."
Mrs. Patterson looked at her. "That's good news."
"It's complicated. Haddad is going to make cheap repairs. Then he'll try to raise the rent again."
"So you fight again."
"I'm tired of fighting."
The old woman took her hand. "Fighting is exhausting. But not fighting is worse. Trust me."
Maya leaned her head on Mrs. Patterson's shoulder. "I wish you were home."
"I am home. This is my home now."
"This place is depressing."
"It's not the Ritz. But the nurses are nice. And the food is better than your cooking."
Maya almost smiled. "My cooking is fine."
"Your cooking is terrible. You burned water once."
"I did not burn water."
"You boiled the pot dry. That's burning water."
Maya laughed. It was the first time she'd laughed in days. It felt strange. Good.
---
She stayed until visiting hours ended.
When she got back to the building, Leo was waiting for her in the lobby.
"You're smiling," he said.
"Mrs. Patterson made a joke."
"She's good at that."
They climbed the stairs together. At her door, she stopped.
"Do you want to come in?" she asked.
"Yes."
They sat on her mattress. The room was small. The ceiling crack stared down at them.
"I've been thinking about my mother," Maya said. "I haven't called her in months."
"Why not?"
"She doesn't want to hear from me. She thinks I'm wasting my life. The art. The building. The tenant association." Maya pulled her knees up to her chest. "She wanted me to be a lawyer. Or a doctor. Something respectable."
"What do you want?"
"I want to draw. I want to stay in this building. I want to make sure Mrs. Patterson is okay." She looked at him. "I want you."
Leo was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "That's not a small list."
"It's not a list. It's my life."
He took her hand. "Then live it. Don't worry about what your mother thinks."
"You make it sound easy."
"It's not. But it's simple. There's a difference."
She didn't know what to say to that. So she kissed him instead.
---
The next morning, Maya called her mother.
The phone rang four times. She almost hung up. Then a voice answered.
"Maya?"
"Hi, Mom."
A pause. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just wanted to call."
Another pause. Longer this time. "You never just call."
"I know. I'm trying something new."
Her mother was quiet. Maya could hear dishes clattering in the background. The television. The same game shows Mrs. Patterson watched.
"The building," her mother said. "Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"Are you still fighting the eviction?"
"Yes."
"And the art? Are you still drawing?"
"Yes."
Another pause. Then her mother said, "I saw your portfolio online. The bridge drawings. They're good."
Maya's throat tightened. "You looked at my portfolio?"
"Your sister sent me the link. I didn't know you could draw like that."
"You never asked."
"I'm asking now."
Maya didn't know what to say. Her mother had never asked about her art. Not once. Not in fourteen years.
"They're good," her mother said again. "You should keep drawing."
"I will."
"I have to go. Work."
"Okay."
"Call me again. Don't wait months."
"Okay."
The line went dead. Maya stared at her phone.
Leo was sitting on the floor, pretending not to listen. But his eyes were on her.
"She looked at my portfolio," Maya said.
"That's good."
"She said my drawings are good."
"That's also good."
Maya shook her head. "I don't know how to feel."
"You don't have to know. You can just feel."
She lay back on the mattress. The ceiling crack looked like a river.
"Leo."
"Yeah."
"Thank you for being here."
"Where else would I be?"