The God's Eye View

CHAPTER 16

Manus went along with the woman and her son, aware he had handled things badly, confused about what to do next. The baseball meant nothing to him; he should have just let it drop. Why had he caught it? He hadn’t thought, he just saw it coming and stuck up his hand. And then giving it to the boy… even stupider. It had made people notice him. Worse, it had made the woman and boy notice him. So much so that he was now in the surreal position of being on his way with them to get a hot dog.

But… the director wanted him to watch the woman, didn’t he? And he hadn’t specified the degree to which Manus was supposed to be surreptitious about it. He’d mentioned the boy’s deafness as a possible entry route, which meant he didn’t object to some level of interaction, and might even welcome it. Yes, that was all true. Maybe that was why Manus had given the boy the ball.

He tried to convince himself, but he knew better. Because there had been no thought at all behind the decision. Instead, he’d been watching them for hours, and something about the way the woman looked at the boy, and signed with him, and tousled his hair had all made Manus feel… something. Something from a long time before, from another little boy’s life, a life so distant he was no longer even aware of its absence. And yet it existed still, stirred to consciousness by this woman and her son.

Or was there more? He didn’t think the woman’s face was what most people would call beautiful, but there was something about her smile, something warm and inviting and genuine, that made him want to look at her. And her body, he had to admit. It had such a… ripeness to it. So soft and curvy and full. She was wearing a V-neck cotton sweater, and Manus had to force himself not to glance at the area at the lowest part of the collar, the smooth skin there, the swell of her breasts, the hint of cleavage.

Fortunately, Eutaw Street was adjacent to the ballpark, because the walk over was somewhat awkward. The crowds were thick, which made it hard to watch the woman while she talked and signed. The boy made things more comfortable, darting in and out of the people around them so he could briefly pause, turn to Manus, and sign him all sorts of questions about Manus’s favorite Orioles players. Manus didn’t care about baseball, but it would have been hard to live in the area and not know the names of at least a few of the most famous players. So he mentioned what he knew, and otherwise covered for his ignorance by asking the boy about his own favorites, and how many games he’d been to, and other such nonsense.

Evie ordered them hot dogs at a stand on Eutaw. One of the advantages of being deaf was that you could talk with your mouth full, and Manus carried on his animated conversation with the boy while they munched on foot-longers covered in mustard and relish. The woman spelled out her name—Evelyn, but please call me Evie—and Manus did the same, Marvin.

My name’s Dash, the boy signed. Because I’m fast.

Your parents must have known you were fast early on.

They could tell.

Evie smiled, and Manus had a feeling she’d heard this exchange before.

What do you do, Marvin? she signed.

I’m a contractor.

She glanced at his work boots. Construction?

Yes. And what do you do?

I work at NSA. Computer stuff.

Thousands of people in the area worked at the giant intelligence organization, so the acknowledgment itself was unremarkable. But to add computer stuff was as informative as if Manus had followed the news that he was in construction with a mention of hammers and nails. The redundancy was just an indication that she couldn’t discuss her job beyond the bare fact of her employment. That was fine with Manus. The director hadn’t shared anything specific about the woman’s work, which meant for Manus it wasn’t relevant.

They chatted more, the crowds gradually dissipating, the light fading from the sky. The boy went to a special school in the area. He was on the baseball team, and wanted one day to play shortstop for the Orioles. His signing was voluble, enthusiastic, unselfconscious. He didn’t seem at all afraid of or uncomfortable with Manus, which for Manus was an unfamiliar thing. The woman, too, seemed intrigued by her son’s ease with this stranger, smiling indulgently while the boy regaled him with information about his school and statistics about baseball and complaints about homework. He asked Manus whether he had been born deaf, and Manus told him he had, a lie so long-standing and consistent it now felt like the truth. Not me, the boy told him. I had meningitis. He conveyed it simply as a bit of interesting information, the same way he might have shared the breed of his dog or color of his bike or where his grandparents lived. Manus thought he detected the tiniest wince in the woman’s expression at the mention of the disease, but also pride at how unaffected her son was in the telling of it.

A few times, Manus saw someone looking at him a bit closely, which he didn’t like, and then realized why: they were wondering if this was the guy they’d seen catch the ball on the giant screen behind center field. Probably the cameras had switched to the hitter’s victory lap immediately after, and Manus hadn’t been filmed actually handing the ball to the boy. Otherwise, he would have been getting a lot more attention now, maybe even from news crews. He’d been lucky. He reproached himself again for having done something so impulsive and stupid.

He asked the woman where she had parked, though he already knew, having followed the movements of her cell phone with a portable StingRay tracking device. She told him a parking garage, and he offered to walk them. She seemed pleased by that, which Manus found surprising and somewhat discomfiting.

At their car, she signed, It was nice meeting you, Marvin. I really don’t know how to thank you for what you did for Dash.

It’s nothing.

It most certainly is not nothing, she signed, her hands moving aggressively to contradict him, the sentiment so gentle and the expression of it so fierce that for the second time since he’d begun watching them, he felt something stir inside him, something familiar and yet forgotten. For a moment he only looked at her, unsure of how to respond.

The boy pulled on his sleeve and he looked down. The boy pointed to his mother’s purse, where she had put the ball, and then, his expression solemn to the point of graveness, signed, Can I really keep it?

It’s yours.

But you caught it.

It’s yours now.

The solemn expression persisted for another moment, then dissolved into a grin of pure joy. The boy leaped forward and hugged Manus tightly, his face pressed against Manus’s belly. Manus looked down at him, stunned, and somehow managed to pat the boy awkwardly on the shoulder. After a moment, the boy stepped back, still grinning.

The woman looked at her son with an expression Manus didn’t understand, something both joyful and aching. Then she signed, Hey good-looking, don’t forget to say it, too.

The boy looked at Manus and signed, Thank you thank you thank you!

Manus signed back a slightly solemn You’re welcome.

Do you have a card, Marvin? the woman signed. It’s just Dash and me, and I’m not very handy. I mean, if you ever do small jobs.

Regardless of what the director might want, it didn’t feel like a good idea. But Manus was concerned it would seem odd if he said no. He hesitated for an instant, then handed her a card. Of course it was all backstopped. He even had Yelp and other job references: work done by a contractor the director had set up with Marvin Manus credentials. And a carpentry cover worked well for him. He was good with all sorts of tools.

She looked at the card, then placed it in her purse. It would be nice to see you again, she signed, smiling. A hot dog doesn’t seem like an adequate thank-you.

He smiled back, a little uncertainly. He didn’t know why it felt like he was doing something illicit. The director wanted him watching the woman. What had he said he wanted to know? The human aspect, the unquantifiable, the ghost in the machine. Well, how could Manus report on any of that from a distance? Getting close to the woman was simply a way to watch her better.

Still, he hoped the director wasn’t going to ask him to do more than just watch.