I’m elbow-deep in tepid bathwater when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I immediately dry off and make a grab for it. It might be Pops and, yeah, it might be Eliot. It’s the little things that are bringing me joy these days.

I frown at my phone because it’s not a phone call, it’s a text, and it wasn’t who I was hoping it was from. It’s from my cousin Tasha.

Need some backup, it reads.

I groan when I look at the picture attached to it. It’s my brother, Jack, passed out on her living-room floor.

This is absolutely not what I need right now.

Be there in an hour, I text her back. I can’t leave before I unclog this tub for my neighbor, Miss Cynthia, and Tasha’s apartment is a few neighborhoods up in South Williamsburg so I’ll need a little time.

She texts me back a thumbs-up and I send up a silent prayer of thanks that Tasha’s living-room floor is the one that Jack picked to pass out on. We’re not that close but she’s always been really kind about the type of drama that seems to be written into Jack’s DNA.

I finish snaking the drain and then quickly wash up.

“All done, honey?” Miss Cynthia asks as I walk through her kitchen.

“Yup, should be good.”

She gestures toward a plate on the table in front of her. My payment for getting out of bed at 6:45 a.m. to fix her bathtub is a double-decker sandwich on toasted rye. Since I’ve moved in here, I’ve learned that her sandwiches absolutely kick ass. But that wasn’t what had me answering the door this morning. It was knowing that Pops wouldn’t have even made her knock twice. He’d have been answering the door on the first knock.

Gotta take care of the neighbors. How many times has he said this to me over the course of my life?

I’ve never lived anywhere but Queens or Kings County, and neither has Pops, but he’s convinced that if you’ve never broken bread with the people next door, then you’re not doing New York right.

After Mom left and our family unit went from four to three, Dad started taking extra care to connect with our neighborhood. I think he was under the impression that if we took care of them, they’d take care of us. And maybe he’s on to something. Because Miss Cynthia’s bathtub is in full working order again and I’ve got a breakfast sandwich to go.