Chapter 351: School Trip

"Sean," she said.

"Yes," he said.

"The last time you were outside for an extended period was the estate house," she said. "Which has a wine cellar."

"It also has a lake," he said.

"You didn’t go near the lake," she said. "I know because Makima told me and Makima tells me things."

"Makima tells you too much," he said.

"Makima tells me exactly the right amount," she said. "Three weeks. That overlaps with the second single session week."

"I know," he said. "The timing works."

"I’ll be in the studio Thursday through Sunday that week anyway," she said. "Kwon has the whole week blocked." A pause. "So we won’t even notice each other’s absence."

"We’ll notice," he said.

A brief quiet on her end.

"Yes," she said. "But it’ll be fine." Another pause. "Who else is going."

"Twenty-four students across four universities," he said. "I don’t know the names yet."

"You’ll know everything about everyone by the end of Friday," she said.

"Probably," he said.

"Sean," she said.

"Yeah."

"Go to the outdoor program," she said. "Exist outside a building for three days. Let it be whatever it is." A pause, and then the specific warmth she carried when she said things she meant without dressing them: "You’ve been managing a lot of things for a long time. Three days in the hill country with twenty-three people who don’t know what you are might be good for you."

He held his phone.

’You’re right,’ he thought.

"Go do your session," he said.

"I’m going," she said. "Text me when you get there."

"You said that last time," he said.

"I say it every time," she said. "Because every time I mean it."

She ended the call.

====

He texted Makima at one fifteen.

Faculty trip in three weeks. Thursday to Sunday. Gone for the weekend.

She replied in four minutes. He knew she’d been in the middle of something because four minutes was Makima’s response time when she was occupied and had decided the message was worth pausing for anyway.

Hill country program, she said. Marsh’s nomination.

He looked at that.

How do you know about Marsh’s nomination, he said.

Mrs. Ellison in 4B has a grandson in the economics faculty, she said. She mentioned it at the elevator this morning. I didn’t know it was you until just now.

Sean held his phone.

’The building knows everything,’ he thought.

Yes, he said. It’s me.

Good, she said. Simply. You should go. You’ve been inside too much.

Olivia said the same thing, he said.

Olivia and I agree on more than you think, she said.

That’s a concerning sentence, he said.

Come down tonight, she said. I made something.

You always make something, he said.

Tonight it’s actually good, she said.

It’s always good, he said.

Tonight it’s better, she said. Seven o’clock.

He looked at his schedule for the evening.

He had a Mia text to return. An Amara document to review. A Margaret Walsh reply to draft.

Seven, he said.

Good, she said.

===

He went down at seven.

Makima opened the door before he knocked.

She had the specific expression she had when she was pleased about something and was not going to say so directly because saying so directly was not how she operated.

She was wearing the oversized gray cardigan she wore in the evenings when nothing required anything of her. Her dark hair was down. She looked exactly like herself, which was the version of her that the building saw and that the rest of the world mostly didn’t.

She stepped back and let him in.

The apartment smelled like something that had been cooking for a while. The specific warm layered smell of ingredients that had been given time.

"Sit," she said.

He sat at the kitchen counter.

She brought two bowls. Actual bowls. The kind of food that required a bowl rather than a plate. Something with broth and good things in it that had been built slowly.

She sat across from him.

He ate.

It was very good. The kind of good that came from someone who understood what food was supposed to do, which was be warm and present and nourishing, not impressive.

"The trip," she said, after a while.

"Three weeks," he said.

"You’re not worried about it," she said.

"No," he said.

"Good," she said. "You should go without worrying about it." She ate. "There are things that need to be experienced without a plan."

He looked at her.

"You’re quoting something," he said.

"Something my mother used to say," she said. "She said some things should be walked into without a map. Not because maps are wrong. Because some things only make sense after you’ve already been in them."

He held his spoon.

He thought about hill country and a lake and twenty-three people who had no idea what they were looking at.

He thought about what Olivia had said.

Three days with twenty-three people who don’t know what you are might be good for you.

He thought about what Makima was saying in a different language.

They were saying the same thing.

"I know," he said.

"Good," said Makima. She ate. "How is Olivia."

"Second single sessions all of week nine," he said. "Kwon has the whole week blocked."

"She’s working hard," said Makima.

"She always works hard," he said. "This is a different kind of hard. She’s building something that has to be as good as the debut or it’s not good enough."

"That’s a specific pressure," said Makima.

"She carries it correctly," he said.

Makima held her spoon. "I know she does," she said. "That’s why I asked." She paused. "You watch her carefully."

"Yes," he said.

"Like you watch all of us," said Makima. "Carefully. From the right distance." She looked at him directly. "The trip will be good because for three days the watching goes somewhere different."

He looked at her.

She looked back with the full version of her warmth. The specific Makima kind. Warm and practical and without any performance in it.

"Eat," she said. "It’s better warm."

He ate.

They sat in the kitchen quiet that had developed between them across months of evenings like this one. Not silence. The comfortable version of two people in a room together who didn’t need to fill it.