“Of course.” There is absolutely no way I would have gotten through the last two days without my meds.
“And you haven’t been drinking?”
“Nope.”
“Not even now that you’re back at your parents’?” Was this bitch psychic?
“Are you serious, Nina? No.”
I know, I know. Lying to my therapist was a bad idea. Lying to my friend was even worse. But I knew that the moment I mentioned it, Nina would get all upset with me, and give me a lecture, and threaten to stop my meds, and to be honest, I couldn’t deal with that right now.
I know I fucked up by drinking that night. I fucked up and I needed to calm down, and being here in this soothing white office was just what I needed. Just being around Nina made me feel better. To think about things rationally and realize that I should cut down on the drinking. I just had a rough day, that’s all. I was under stress. I had seen a dead body, for fuck’s sake. Not even worth the $2.67 per minute to mention it.
Thankfully, she relented and changed the subject. This was a trick of hers also—switch the subject so I would get comfortable and then, bam! She gets me to dissect some cryptic part of my life, or so she thought anyway.
“And how are you otherwise? Have you been making progress with your website?”
Uh-oh. I knew where this was going.
“Yes,” I said, matter-of-factly, hoping she would move on. But unicorns would sooner appear in Nina’s office and fart rainbows before I ever got to be so lucky.
“So I take it that you’ve been venturing outside the scope of your little side business?”
Fuck you, Nina. I knew I shouldn’t have ever mentioned it to you. That you would always use it against me. Damn, for someone who keeps yapping about respecting professional boundaries, she’s really one hypocritical bitch.
I crossed my arms and then quickly uncrossed them. No point in coming across as defensive, even though there’s nothing I hate more than someone who just won’t take a hint and leave me alone. And yes, I know that’s the whole point of a therapist, but my head hurt and hints of the scotch I gulped to calm myself before I came over here still swirled around in my stomach and I just wasn’t in the mood, okay?
“Nina”—I made sure I was smiling—“I know you don’t think it’s a good idea, but really, I’m being safe. I swear. And it’s just for a little while. Until I get my graphic design thing going.”
“Paloma, look, I’m not judging you. I never have. But I just want to make sure you know the risks, that’s all. I don’t know if you need the stress that no doubt comes from—”
“Nina, come on, you know how careful I am. I’m as risk averse as an insurance assessor on Adderall.” I gave a little laugh but her face remained deadpan.
“It is a risk, Paloma. The type of people who are into this sort of thing. You are taking a risk.”
“It’s just business, Nina. Only until I get my freelance thing off the ground.”
“Paloma, call it what you want, but you sell your used underwear on the internet to whoever bids on it. That is not a healthy business. Or a safe one.”
“Of course it’s safe! I use a different name, and a PO Box and everything. We’ve been through this.”
“I don’t think it’s particularly safe, Paloma. You told me at our last session that you had a stalker.”
Fuck. With everything that has been happening with Arun I had almost forgotten about Mr. Williams. His name curdled in my mind, bringing on fresh waves of disgust and panic.
Mr. Williams. That was all I knew about him. His name. But he has my phone number and even tracked down my address. He rang the buzzer once, but I told him to fuck right off and leave me alone. I couldn’t make out his face from the fuzzy black-and-white video, so I wouldn’t be able to recognize him if I ever did see him, and that freaked me out more than anything. He could be anywhere. Following me on BART. Watching me.
I shuddered.
I knew it wasn’t Nina’s fault, but I was pissed that she brought him up.
“Look, he’s just a loser who can’t take a hint. I can handle it. Please relax.”
A tinge of pink had crept into her cheeks. She took a deep breath, the same thing she’s always telling me to do. I know she means well.
Hell, it’s not like I wanted to build a career around selling my worn underwear to people who contact me online. I even thought it was a joke, at first, when some random dude mentioned it on a questionable subreddit. I’d just been poking around there for fun, one night when I couldn’t sleep and had run out of Ambien. A little more poking around, and the types of things people were willing to pay for really bowled me over. Underwear was the easiest for me—a couple of naughty selfies with my head strategically out of the frame, lacy panties bought by the pack from Target, and a PO Box under a different name were all I needed. The underwear were a couple of bucks. I sold them for $120 to $150 a pop. Even with the bulk-buying packages I offer, you’ve got to admit that it’s really good margins. Some of the perverts got a little creative with their requests—one wanted me to ride a bike while wearing them, another wanted a note describing how I wore them just for him. A few requests for Polaroids of me feeling myself up through them. The world was full of sick fucks, and I’m to blame for figuring out a way to monetize them? Please. This was easy cash, and it’s nice to get something easily for once in my life. Minimal effort, maximum rewards. With only the slight threat of a psycho stalker wanting a little more than just my undies finding out who I am and where I live.
I know it isn’t the most stand-up-citizen thing to do. I never said I was a Girl Scout. But since the cash from my parents stopped, I’ve been broker than a tooth fairy at an old folks’ home, and desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
“I don’t mean to lecture you. I apologize. I worry about you, that’s all.”
And just like that, I wasn’t mad at her anymore. Of course she was just worried. Of course she was only concerned about me. It made me feel warm inside. At least someone cared.
“So.” She had her change-the-subject voice on. “How does it feel being back at your parents’?”
“It’s, well, it’s different. Without them there, I mean. Like I shouldn’t even be staying in their home in the first place.”
“Why do you think you feel that way?”
I hadn’t told Nina about the letter. Just that my parents left on their three-month trip and they’d be mostly incommunicado while they did god knows what in South Asia. She didn’t know how Mom cried for a whole week straight and Dad could barely look at me before he left. But truth be told, even before that, the large family house where I had my own room for the first time in my life felt, well, it wasn’t mine. I just lived there. But whatever, it was a fucking palace compared to where I came from, so who the hell am I to complain?
“It’s just strange being there alone, that’s all.”
“Is there anyone who could stay with you for a day or two while you settle in?”
I took a deep breath. She knew the answer was no. Why the hell would she even ask?
She must have read my mind, though, because she went on.
“It’s just that, well, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now. What about your neighbor, you used to be pretty close to her, right? Ida?” I swear to god, this woman was relentless.
“No, Nina. Just because my mom used to dump me off there when I was a teenager”—I stressed the word—“that doesn’t mean we get to hang out now. It’s not like, you know, it’s not like we were friends or anything.” I made sure I was smiling when I said it. Not even the tiniest bit of revulsion etched on my face. I didn’t want Nina to be mad at me.
“I know. But we did speak about you putting yourself out there since Fern moved out . . . and everything . . .” Her voice trailed off into a question mark. It was another trick
she used to get me to open up, but I wasn’t falling for it today.
I stayed quiet.
“Look, I know Fern really hurt you when she stole the diamond earrings your parents gifted you,” Nina continued. Her grey eyes bored into me, sharp and precise. I swallowed and shifted my gaze to her snow-white rug. “But you can’t give up on people altogether. It doesn’t have to be hanging out with Ida. Maybe joining a group. Socializing a little more . . . ?”
Fuck you, Nina. What the hell do you expect me to do? Join a goddamned knitting circle? Just so I can hear a bunch of people whine about their weight gain or cheating husbands, or god help me, their bratty little children and how their lives are so fucking complete now even though they haven’t slept in weeks and stink of dirty diapers. How the fuck am I supposed to connect with people who didn’t have to claw their way into their new lives? Who threw away everything and everyone important to them to get to where they were today? Except where was I, really? An unemployed thirty-year-old who sold her panties to perverts and just found her blackmailing snake of a roommate bleeding out on the kitchen table?
“I’ve been trying. You know how it is in the city. Everyone’s nice. But that’s it. It’s not like you can just go up to someone and ask them to be your best friend, you know.”
Silence.
“I did meet someone interesting,” I tried. Anything to keep her from harping on.
“Oh?”
“Another Sri Lankan, believe it or not. He was one of Arun’s friends. A waiter, at the restaurant where he worked.” Now that I said it out loud, I knew I had made a mistake. Nina was going to make a big deal about this, and I was going to have to bite my tongue, and she was going to pick up on it and give me a lecture about holding back, and I was going to leave here upset.
“One of Arun’s friends.” Another one of Nina’s annoying habits was repeating what I said back to me.
“Yeah. It was weird, he kept talking to me in Sinhalese, which I haven’t spoken in years, of course. But I could still understand it. Pretty cool, huh?”
“That is cool.”
“He gave me his number.” I thought I saw a hint of a smile. Fuck. I need to stop digging this hole deeper.
“Will you call him?”
“I don’t know.” Was that the best way to say hell no?
“You don’t know?”
“Yeah.” Come on, Nina. Drop this.
But I knew what she was thinking. And she was my friend. And I didn’t want her to stop being my friend. And no one wants to be friends with someone who’s picky and antisocial and sells their underwear on the internet.
I was going to regret these next few words, I just knew it.
“Okay, fine. I’ll text him, okay?”
Maybe I could see if he knew anything more about Arun. Or about me.
Nina’s lips curved into a smile but her brow furrowed. The slight wrinkle looked out of place on her smooth forehead. She tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. I guess she didn’t use enough hairspray today, even though her bob was always immaculate. I’d come to expect no less. It didn’t stop me from being incredibly jealous of women with perfect hair though. My own hair resembled a lion’s mane on a good day. Black and coarse and irritatingly poufy. Christina fucking Hannigan used to sing the intro to The Lion King whenever she saw me after gym class. Okay, shit, I was drifting off again.
“I don’t want to nag you, you know.” She smiled. God, I was glad to have her in my life. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know all this must be tough for you—”
“Seeing my roommate’s dead body?” I mean, it would be tough for anyone though. Not just me.
To be honest, I’m kind of surprised she hasn’t asked me more about Arun. I expected Nina to be more shocked when I told her, but she seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. Almost like she was expecting it. One thing I got to hand to Nina. It took a lot to weird her out.
“We can let the police deal with that.” Pretty dismissive, Nina. Too bad the police gave even less of a shit than she did. “I’m just worried that this whole ordeal might have opened up some old feelings for you?”
“Old feelings? Like what?”
“Like, things that happened back in Sri Lanka?” How did she always know?
“Sri Lanka was a lifetime ago,” I said, recrossing my arms and fighting the urge to rub my thumb against my front teeth. I suddenly couldn’t care less if I seemed defensive. “And no amount of dead Indian boys will open up that can of worms for me. Whatever happened to Arun is not my fault.” That much is true, right?
“What happened in Sri Lanka was not your fault, either, Paloma. You know that, don’t you?”
I swallowed. Miss Chandra’s letter burned in my mind.
“Of course.” I mean, there’s no point in disagreeing with Nina.
So why was she looking at me like I was some sort of goddamned math equation? Fuck her.
“Nina, I’m fine. Really. Mohini”—I took a deep breath—“was a dumb story the girls in the orphanage made up. I mean, I’m not twelve anymore, for god’s sake. I’ve just . . . well, fuck, you know more than anyone how stressed out I’ve been lately.”
She looked at me again.
Damn it. I hadn’t said her name out loud in a while. Definitely not to Nina.
“I wasn’t talking about Mohini, Paloma.”
“I know, Nina. Like I said, I’m not in the best headspace lately. This whole business with Arun has left me rattled. But I’m okay. I promise.”
I just need to figure out what happened that night so I can let this go and move on with my life.
The future’s not ours to see. The words flashed in my mind, but then they were gone.
Nina gave me a little nod. She believed me.
“So, we’ll keep your prescription as it is for now, then. Just remember what I said about the drinking, okay? I’m serious. You know the reaction from mixing the two will never lead you anywhere good. I’m talking memory loss, hallucinations, drowsiness. More than a few people have ended up in the ER.”
Hallucinations. I thought back to the woman in my apartment. She didn’t need to tell me twice.
“Yes, Nina.” I’m sure I sounded grumpy.
I needed to move on from this bullshit. And the first step was to go back to my apartment for clean clothes, my laptop, and more underwear. I couldn’t have this be bad for business. Not right now, anyway. My future sessions with Nina weren’t going to pay for themselves.
14
RATMALANA, SRI LANKA
“WE’RE GOING TO GET in trouble haiyyo.”
I know we are best friends, but it was times like these that I really wanted to smack her.
“We’ll only get caught if you don’t relax, okay?” I hoped I didn’t sound too bossy. She always says she hates it when I get bossy. But I don’t think I’m bossy. I just get annoyed when she’s being a scaredy-cat like this. I mean, I wasn’t asking her to come in search of Mohini or anything like that, no?
It was a Tuesday afternoon and Miss Chandra had taken some of the younger girls to the dentist. Tuesdays were Miss Nayana’s off days, and Perera sir usually spent his afternoons reading in the verandah that wrapped around the building. This left the coast clear for us. That is, unless Lihini ruined it by chickening out.
Besides, like I kept telling her, what was the worst that could happen? Miss Chandra and Miss Nayana and even Perera sir were nothing like Sister Cynthia. They never treated us the way she did. If Perera sir was upset with us, we were called to his office and given a stern talking-to. It wasn’t fun, but no one ever got caned. And anyways, Lihini should probably take her mind off last week’s caning incident.
Checking behind my shoulder, I pushed the door open. A quick look around showed that it was empty. Of course it was.
“We really shouldn’t be back here.”
I sighed.
“Look, if you want to go, you should go.”
I knew she never would.
Not checking to see whether she left, I crept into the dark room. Grey tufts of dust hovered around, and I held my handkerchief up to my mouth. Didn’t look like anyone has been here since we visited last. I knew we’d never get caught.
Neither of us onned the light, but the curtain glowed red and made us both look like aliens. Or demons.
“Oooooh!” I mimicked a ghost’s cry and watched as Lihini rolled her eyes at me.
“Come on, sudhu, you know you want to see it as much as I do.”
“Fine.” She walked over to the filing cabinet at the back of the room and opened the second drawer. “I just don’t want to take a hundred years in here, that’s all. If we get caught, they’ll send us to St. Margaret’s for sure.”
I felt a sharp prick on my calf and swatted a mosquito dead. She had a point. The blood smeared on my palm and I wiped it on the hem of my dress.
“Is it there?”
“It’s here. Who else will take it, aney?” She held out the two cardboard file covers. One faded pink and the other faded yellow.
I went over to the small table at the back of the room, making sure I didn’t step on or trip over anything. This was a storage room, we guessed. We never saw anyone come in, but the green plastic chair that Maya broke last year was left here, along with other odd bits of furniture, a few garbage bags of donated clothes that weren’t sorted, and of course, the filing cabinet.
We’d wandered in here by mistake a few months ago when we were looking for a better reading spot. Since then, we tried to come back whenever we could. Lihini and I had read about Aladdin’s Cave of Wonders. To us, this was even better than that.
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