June turned into July. The courtyard garden grew faster than Maya expected. The tomato plants reached the height of her waist. The basil spread across the soil like a green carpet. The broken birdbath stood in the corner, still broken, but now covered in morning glories that had seeded themselves from nowhere.
Maya sat on the ground every morning with her coffee. The courtyard was small, surrounded on three sides by brick walls. The sun didn't reach the bottom until after 10 AM. But when it did, the light was golden. She drew the garden in her sketchbook. The same plants, different angles. The way the shadows moved across the dirt. The way the morning glories opened at dawn and closed by noon.
Leo joined her most mornings. He brought his own coffee. He didn't draw as much anymore – his paralegal job kept him busy. But he sat with her. They didn't always talk. Sometimes they just watched the garden grow.
"The tomatoes need stakes," he said one morning.
"I know."
"The ones from the old building. We saved them."
"They're in the storage closet."
He stood up. "I'll get them."
He came back with the bundle of wooden stakes, tied with twine. The same stakes he'd left on the fire escape a year ago. Maya took one and pushed it into the soil next to the tallest tomato plant. Leo did the same. They worked in silence, tying the stems with pieces of string Maya had saved from coffee bags.
When they finished, the garden looked like the old one. Smaller. Different light. Different dirt. But the same bones.
"It's not the roof," Leo said.
"Nothing is."
"But it's something."
She leaned against the brick wall. The sun was higher now. The courtyard was warm.
"I've been thinking about the tenant association," she said.
"What about it?"
"We don't need it anymore. The building is gone."
"The people aren't gone. Mr. Delgado is in Ohio. Marco is in Queens. Jasmine is in the Bronx. Mr. Chen is in Florida."
"We should have a reunion."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "A reunion?"
"Why not? We fought together. We lost together. We should drink together."
He almost smiled. "That's not a bad idea."
"I'll call Marco."
---
Marco answered on the second ring. "Maya? It's been months."
"I know. How are you?"
"I'm okay. Working at a warehouse in Long Island City. It's not great, but it's a job."
"Leo and I are having a reunion. The old tenants. You, Jasmine, Mr. Chen. Anyone else we can find."
Marco was quiet for a moment. "When?"
"Next Saturday. Our apartment on Crown Street."
"I'll be there."
She called Jasmine. Jasmine was working a double shift, but she said she'd come if she could. She called Mr. Chen. He was in Florida, but he said he'd take the bus. "I miss Brooklyn," he said. "Even the cold."
She called Mr. Delgado. His daughter answered. "Dad is in Ohio. He's doing well. But he can't travel. His health isn't good."
"Can I talk to him?"
"He's sleeping. But I'll tell him you called."
Maya hung up. She looked at the garden. The tomato plants were standing straight. The basil was full.
"Mr. Delgado can't come," she said.
Leo nodded. "We'll visit him sometime. When he's better."
"If he gets better."
"Don't think like that."
"It's hard not to."
He took her hand. "I know."
---
The reunion was on a Saturday afternoon in July.
Marco came first. He brought a six-pack of beer and a box of donuts – the same ones from the bakery on Franklin. He looked different. Thinner. His hair was shorter. But his smile was the same.
"You look good," Maya said.
"I look tired. Same as you."
They sat in the living room. The painting of the roof was on the wall. Marco stared at it.
"Leo painted that," Maya said.
"I know. He's good."
"He's annoying."
"But you love him."
"Yes."
Marco nodded. "He's a good guy. For a lawyer."
"He's not a lawyer anymore."
"Once a lawyer, always a lawyer."
Jasmine arrived an hour later. She was still in her scrubs – she'd come straight from the hospital. She looked exhausted.
"I can only stay for an hour," she said. "I have to sleep before my next shift."
"An hour is enough," Maya said.
Mr. Chen came at 4 PM. He'd taken the bus from Florida – twenty-four hours. He looked older than Maya remembered. His squint was deeper. His hands shook slightly.
"You came all this way," Maya said.
"The building is gone. But the people aren't."
She hugged him. He was smaller than she remembered. Lighter.
They sat in the living room. The six-pack was open. The donuts were half-eaten. The painting stared down at them.
"Remember Mrs. Patterson?" Marco said.
"Of course," Jasmine said.
"She would have loved this. A party. In her honor."
"She would have said the donuts are stale."
"She would have eaten them anyway."
They laughed. It was a strange sound – rusty, like they'd forgotten how.
Maya looked at the painting. Mrs. Patterson on the milk crate. The garden behind her. The water tank beside her.
"She's not gone," Maya said.
"No," Mr. Chen said. "She's in the walls."
They were quiet for a moment. The city hummed outside the window.
---
After the others left, Maya sat in the studio.
The desk lamp was on. The sketchbook was open. She picked up her pencil.
She drew the reunion. Marco with his beer. Jasmine in her scrubs. Mr. Chen with his tired eyes.
She drew them laughing. She drew them quiet. She drew them together.
When she finished, she looked at the page.
It wasn't perfect. The proportions were off. The shading was too dark.
But it was real.
Leo came in. He looked at the drawing.
"You're getting better," he said.
"I'm getting practice."
He sat on the floor. "Marco is moving again. To Staten Island. He found a cheaper apartment."
"Good for him."
"Jasmine is engaged. Did she tell you?"
Maya looked up. "No."
"She's engaged to a nurse. Someone she works with. They're getting married next spring."
Maya set down her pencil. "That's good."
"Mr. Chen is thinking about moving back. He misses Brooklyn."
"He should. Florida is too hot."
Leo smiled. It was a real smile. Wide. Warm.
"You're not going to draw me?" he asked.
"I've drawn you enough."
"Never."
She picked up her pencil. She drew his smile. His tired eyes. His messy hair.
When she finished, he looked at the drawing.
"I look happy," he said.
"You are happy."
"So are you."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. The desk lamp flickered.