Then the bills arrived. Funeral costs. Back rent. Medical expenses. The landlord who had once shaken David's hand at Christmas suddenly became a man leaving notices under the door.
Maya remembered Denise sitting at the kitchen table at two in the morning, staring at numbers she could not make work. She remembered boxes, garbage bags filled with clothes, the possibility of losing the apartment, the humiliating realization that grief did not stop rent from being due. That was when Maya had learned something school brochures never mentioned. Institutions could praise you on Monday and forget you by Friday. Money ran out.
Sympathy ran out. Paperwork did not. Denise had taken extra shifts. Walter had quietly arranged access to Riverton. Maya had studied harder.
No one had rescued them. They had simply kept moving. That memory lived inside her now. It was one reason she refused to give Brooke the fight Brooke seemed to want. Maya picked up her backpack.
"I should go." Walter nodded. "Route 417, if I hurry." They walked toward the exit together. Near the far mat, a sharp scrape of shoes cut through the quiet.
The remaining trainee, a gray-haired man Maya recognized from Walter's evening conditioning class, had stopped stretching. His hand went to his chest. He took one uncertain step, then another. Maya dropped her backpack. Sir?
The man's knees buckled. Maya reached him before he hit the floor. Walter was only a second behind her. Leon? The trainee, Leon Harris, 63, was conscious but struggling to pull in a full breath.
Maya lowered him carefully onto the mat. Mr. Harris, look at me. His eyes found hers. Stay with me. Don't try to stand.
Walter reached for his phone. I'm calling 911. Maya loosened the collar of Leon's sweatshirt and kept her voice level. Can you tell me where the discomfort is? Leon touched the center of his chest.
Pressure. Any dizziness? He nodded. Maya's own pulse accelerated. But her hands stayed steady.
She had learned basic emergency response through her physical therapy coursework and from years around hospital workers at Riverton. She kept Leon still, kept him talking, kept him focused. Minutes stretched. Outside, a bus rolled past the front windows. Route 417.
Maya watched its yellow interior lights disappear down the street. Her ride home was gone. She didn't move. Sirens arrived several minutes later. Two paramedics entered with a stretcher and equipment, taking over while Maya explained exactly what had happened.
One of them looked at her. "You did the right thing, keeping him down and calm." Maya stepped back. Leon reached weakly toward her before they moved him. "You missed your bus."
Maya smiled. "There'll be another one." He squeezed her fingers once. Then the paramedics wheeled him away. The gym became strangely quiet after the ambulance doors closed.