Chapter 205: Danny Invitation
After a while he said, "Danny texted me not quite long."
"I know," said Makima. "He told me."
"He asked if I wanted to watch a football game Saturday," said Sean.
"What did you say," said Makima.
"I said yes," said Sean.
She was quiet for a moment. "He’s never invited anyone to watch football with him," she said. "He watches alone because he says other people react wrong to important moments."
"What’s the wrong reaction," said Sean.
"Any reaction that isn’t his exact reaction," said Makima. "He has a very specific protocol."
"I’ll follow the protocol," said Sean.
She shifted slightly against his shoulder. "He’s going to explain the protocol in significant detail before kickoff."
"I assumed," said Sean.
"There are subsections," said Makima.
"Of course there are," said Sean.
She laughed. The quiet real one. And Sean felt the specific warmth of it sitting in the same space as everything the week had held and understood that this was what Makima had meant about putting it down. Not forgetting it. Just letting the other things be in the room at the same time.
Saturday
He went to Danny’s at two.
Danny’s apartment was on the third floor of a building six blocks from the campus, the specific kind of apartment that communicated someone who had their own life and was managing it carefully. Books on a proper shelf. A print on the wall that had been chosen deliberately. A kitchen that was clean in the way of someone who cooked rather than the way of someone who didn’t bother.
Danny opened the door and looked at Sean.
"You look tired," said Danny.
"Long week," said Sean.
"Sit down," said Danny. "The game starts at three. I have forty-five minutes to brief you on what to expect."
Sean sat on the couch.
Danny sat in the adjacent chair and looked at him with the evaluating eyes he shared with his sister.
"You’re not going to tell me what happened this week," said Danny.
"Not today," said Sean.
"Okay," said Danny. Without pushback. The specific acceptance of someone who understood the difference between I can’t tell you now and I won’t tell you. "Makima said it was significant."
"It’s finishing," said Sean. "Tomorrow."
Danny looked at him for a moment. Then he picked up the remote and turned the television on and said, "The protocol for this game. There are four things you need to understand before kickoff."
"Go ahead," said Sean.
Danny went through them. He was right that there were subsections.
Sean listened to all of it and asked two questions that made Danny look at him with the specific satisfaction of someone whose briefing had been received properly.
"You actually watched the game prep," said Danny.
"I read the form guide " said Sean.
Danny looked at him. "Why."
"Because you invited me," said Sean.
Danny was quiet for a moment. Then he turned back to the television and said nothing else about it, which was his version of the warmest possible response.
They watched the game.
Danny reacted to important moments in the specific way he’d described, which turned out to involve standing up briefly and then sitting back down and not saying anything but making a particular sound that covered everything he wasn’t saying. Sean matched the register of it without mimicking it exactly and Danny’s expression told him this was the correct approach.
At half time Danny brought food he’d clearly prepared before Sean arrived, the kind of Saturday afternoon food that required more effort than it looked like and communicated something through the effort.
"Your team is down," said Sean.
"They’ll come back," said Danny. "They always do in the second half when they stop trying to be clever and just play."
"Is that a general principle," said Sean.
"Yes," said Danny, eating. "Most things that go wrong go wrong because someone is trying to be clever instead of just doing the obvious thing."
Sean looked at the half-time analysis on the television.
He thought about the documentation package and Reyes’s warrants and Mia’s list and all the specific obvious things that had needed to be done in order and the way doing them in order had produced something that forty-eight hours from now was going to change twelve lives simultaneously.
Sometimes the obvious thing was the right thing.
"Danny," he said.
"Yeah."
"Thank you for inviting me today."
Danny looked at him briefly. "You’re family now," he said. Completely matter of fact. As though this was not a significant thing to say but simply a true thing that required stating.
Then he looked back at the television.
The second half started.
Danny’s team came back.
Sean’s phone buzzed twice during the game. He didn’t check it until the final whistle. One was from Max, one was from Mia.
Max: Everything in position. Reyes confirmed all four teams briefed. I’ll be up at five AM tomorrow to monitor.
Mia: I’m ready for tomorrow. Thank you for Friday night. Makima is. I don’t have the right word. She’s the right kind of person.
Sean looked at that last text for a moment.
He texted Max back. Get some sleep before five.
He texted Mia back. She is. See you tomorrow afternoon.
Danny’s team won by two goals.
Danny made the specific sound that corresponded to this outcome, stood up, sat back down, and then looked at Sean with the expression of someone who had shared something important.
"Same time next week," said Danny.
"Same time next week," said Sean.
Then he went back home
One more night.
He went to Makima’s.
She was cooking actual food despite what she’d said Friday, which he didn’t mention, and they ate dinner quietly and she asked him about Danny’s football protocol and he described it in enough detail that she laughed properly, the real kind, twice.
Afterward she said, "Come back tomorrow with Mia. Both of you. I’ll have food."
"You said you were going to stop cooking so much," said Sean.
"I said I’d cook actual food," said Makima. "That remains true."
"That’s the same thing," said Sean.
"It really isn’t," said Makima.
Sean helped with the dishes then he went upstairs at ten.
He set an alarm for five forty-five.
Sunday morning was six hours away.
He slept.