“Could you rewind, just a little?”
He gave me a look, but he did what I asked.
The video showed me run out of my apartment, like I was being chased by a, well, you know. But there was no one after me. At least in the few feet that were visible, I was alone. You could just see a very blurry, potentially drunk me rush towards the stairs, where there was barely any visibility anyway, and disappear. No Mohini, obviously, but no one else chasing me either.
Mr. Wong hit the fast-forward button again, and the video ran ahead until 5:47 a.m., when Fabien, my condescending bitch neighbor with the toddler and terrible breath, left her apartment. You couldn’t really see her surprise, or was it revulsion, of seeing me in the stairwell from the angle of the camera, but I’m sure that didn’t stop her from filling Jason Wong, or the police, in on how she felt.
The police showed up at 6:23 a.m.
“That can’t be right. Isn’t there anything else?”
“This is all we have.”
Are you kidding me, Jason Wong?
I made sure my voice was even. My smile definitely could not slip here.
“And the other floors?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You want the other floors?”
“Well, if that’s okay.”
“Look, Miss Evans, I’m sure you had a bad night. But the police have reviewed all the footage and they haven’t noted anything strange.”
“But that can’t be all. Someone was in my apartment that night. Someone—” I stopped myself. I couldn’t tell Jason Wong about Arun’s body. He thought I was some sort of degenerate as it is. The last thing I needed was for him to think I was hallucinating too.
“It’s my roommate, you see. He’s missing.” I mean, he technically was missing, alive or dead. “And the video doesn’t show him leave.”
I know the CCTV recordings were fuzzy as fuck but surely, someone couldn’t move a body without even a part of it being recorded?
But Mr. Wong’s lips turned into a downward U.
“Ms. Evans, you know you are not allowed to have a roommate, right? We make it clear in our contract that we don’t allow subletting. Anyone who wanted to share an apartment has to go through a credit check and have references. I told the police as much when they woke me up before dawn.”
I could have slapped myself.
Of course I fucking knew that. It was why Arun and I barely had an agreement and he paid me in cash for everything. Well, that, and the fact that he technically didn’t even have a credit score. It was why I told him to always use the stairs, never the elevator. And keep to himself. He seemed happy enough to comply. There weren’t many places he could rent this easily in the city.
“As far as I know, Miss Evans, you never even had a roommate. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t worry the other residents so much every time you went on a bender. Your neighbor told me she only called the police because she was afraid you were hurt.”
Well, fuck you, too, Jason Wong.
“Could I please just see the other floors?”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll email you a link to all the footage. That’ll be easier, right? But trust me, I can tell you right now that there really isn’t anything to see. Mrs. Jenson’s caretaker took her out a little before the police came, but no one else really came or left the building between your, um, episode and Miss Fabien finding you. Well, except—”
He looked down and frowned, then rubbed his head again.
“Except?”
“Look, you’d probably had some sort of accident. That’s fine. But it would be great if you could return that mop and cleaning supplies. Those items are for the common areas, not personal use.”
Huh? What was Jason Wong going on about now?
“That’s not possible.”
“What do you mean, that’s not possible? The cleaning equipment is for the janitor’s use only. Not for tenants. We need it back or I’ll have to take it out of your deposit.”
“No, I mean—” It took every ounce of my energy to keep my voice light and calm. “I never took your mop. Or any cleaning products.”
Jason Wong’s eyes narrowed.
“Here.” He fiddled with the video again. It was the floor above mine. Same camera angle, except it showed part of the utility closet. It was 11:05 p.m.
A woman opened the door of the utility closet and pulled out a mop and a bunch of cleaning solutions. A woman wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, just like I’d been wearing that night. Like I was even wearing right now. You couldn’t see her face, but she had black hair that streamed out from under her hood, which was pulled up.
Wong shifted his gaze back to me, his face resting smugly as if to say, I told you so.
I had to hand it to Wong, that did look a fuck load like me, but surely, I didn’t get into the janitor’s closet that night?
I held my thumb up to my tooth, and my hands gave a small tremble as Nina’s voice wriggled its way into my mind—You can’t drink with these, okay?
“I—I’m sorry about that. Really. I could Venmo you the cost? I’ll make sure—”
But something else on his screen caught my attention. He’d switched back to my floor, and was clicking through something, but the video was still running on fast-forward. A man stepped out of the elevator.
“What’s that?” My voice squeaked.
Wong gave the screen an unhurried look.
“That’s later on in the day.” The time stamp said 10:05 a.m. I would have been at the station by then.
“Could you play that again?”
He did not look happy, but he clicked through for me to see a man walk out of the elevator, disappear towards my apartment door, and then return to the elevator exactly two minutes later. There was nothing distinct about him—he wore an ascot cap pulled low over his face, along with a jacket of sorts. Definitely better dressed than the men you found sneaking away from these apartments in the early hours of the morning.
Surely, that couldn’t be Mr. Williams? Could it? I could hear Nina’s voice in my ear: You told me at our last session that you had a stalker. Was it really him?
I started to feel sick. Call me dense, but I never thought he would actually make it into my building. And he was here the morning after Arun died? What kind of ridiculous coincidence is that? The few sips of Captain Morgan I’d taken earlier were starting to rise in my throat.
I clumsily took down Jason Wong’s details and gave him my email address. I don’t care that the police went through it already, I needed to see the CCTV recordings again. There was no way, no way in hell, that I had just been hallucinating that evening.
No way.
Right?
17
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
I GOT THE HELL out of his suffocating hole of an office as fast as I could. I thought visiting Wong would give me answers, but it left me more confused than ever. How had Mr. Williams actually made it inside my building? I mean, security here was pretty much nonexistent. I guess I’d never considered that he would be this determined.
And why the fuck would I need a mop and bleach?
Well, apart from the fucking obvious.
I was seriously losing my shit here.
I pushed the main door open, almost crashing into Mrs. Jenson and her caretaker as they were coming inside. Mrs. Jenson didn’t look great, but maybe that’s just the way old people looked, especially those who were confined to a wheelchair and probably just a few weeks away from kicking the proverbial bucket. She was engulfed in her huge brown coat as usual and had a billowy floral scarf wrapped around her head.
“Oh! You!” she called out.
I really wasn’t in the mood to hang around chatting with senile women. I needed to get as far away from this cursed building as I could, but a quick thought had me swallow my irritation and call out instead.
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“Hi, Mrs. Jenson. How are you?”
“At my age, dear, it’s a good thing just to wake up.” I guess she had a point. Her voice rasped like she’d smoked one too many cigarettes in her day.
“I was just wondering—the other day, you know, when the police came. I was wondering if you heard anything? Or maybe saw anyone strange in the building?”
“You know, I’m glad you brought it up. It really isn’t becoming of a young lady to scream at her beau like you do.”
Wait. What?
“I’m sorry?”
“Your beau, dear. We can hear you upstairs, you know, arguing all the time. I know you are from a place where people are very, well, what’s the word, hot-blooded, you know. But that’s no excuse to take it out on your man. It simply doesn’t do for a lady to behave that way.”
Hot-blooded? What the actual fuck was this stupid old fossil on about? I only ever argued with Arun once.
“I—I’m sorry.” I tried to sound haughty but I was too upset. Besides, she still hadn’t answered my question. “He’s actually just my roommate, but, well . . .” I trailed off. What the hell was I supposed to say to this?
I looked at her caretaker. She was blond and seemed afraid the wheelchair would run her over.
“Did it disturb you also?” Surely, someone in their right mind would know if Mrs. Jenson was making this shit up because she was irritable.
“Of course you couldn’t disturb her, dearie, she’s new. My old caretaker up and quit the day after all that nonsense.” Her eyes narrowed as if a new idea just came into her mind. “I suppose I have you to thank for that. Keeping us up at all hours with your lovers’ spats.”
Oh, hell no.
I wanted to reach out and slap this doddering prune, but I took a deep breath instead.
Be nice, Paloma.
“It’s getting quite chilly out here, Mrs. Jenson. Why don’t we get you inside?”
She just shrugged and allowed herself to be wheeled away. But I still couldn’t shake off the unease that was slowly working its way through me.
I walked around as if I were in a dream, not a clue where the hell I was going, until I finally collapsed onto a bench at the bus stop.
I was shaking so hard I could barely get my phone out of my pocket. I tried to take deep breaths, just like Nina had told me to, but it wasn’t working. What the fuck was happening to me?
Whatever will be, will be
Get ahold of yourself, Paloma.
18
RATMALANA, SRI LANKA
IT’S ONLY PERERA SIR’S office. I had to try not to be so scared.
The air smelled like old books and dust as I took a deep breath. I hoped it would make me relax. Books usually did. But my heart just wouldn’t slow down. It felt like raindrops on the takaran roof we had in the bathroom, that time I got caught in there during a monsoon shower. Loud, hard bangs that I could feel all the way to my fingertips.
We only get called into Perera sir’s office for two reasons—either we’ve been very good, or we’ve been very bad. And I know that I definitely hadn’t come first in class or won any awards, so I had an idea what it could be. I didn’t think anyone saw us sneak into the storeroom, but someone must have told. The curse was probably working.
I know we are too old to believe in curses, but we couldn’t help it. I’ve noticed Lihini, looking over her shoulder, checking behind the curtains and under the bed when she thinks I won’t notice. She was convinced that she was cursed also, after she cut her hand on the mirror. She had bandaged it up, told everyone she cut it when she tripped in the back garden, and kept muttering prayers to herself. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I broke the mirror. If there was a curse, I was definitely a goner. I could feel it, a presence all around me, following me, watching me. The small hairs on the back of my neck had started standing up at odd times. I could feel a cold breeze even during hot afternoons.
Lihini even snuck some limes from the kitchen yesterday and said we should cut them to ward off evil, like we saw a medicine man do to Shanika after she, well, you know. But neither of us could remember the chants he said, and we didn’t have his fancy knife.
But a voice of reason broke through all my worrying—we were both in the room that day, so why did Perera sir call only me?
I had taken some extra biscuits from the tin that Miss Nayana kept in the kitchen, but she did say I could have some because I had helped her clean the whole playroom and arrange all the crayons. Or maybe it was because I knocked that book over when Mr. and Mrs. Evans came. It had been two weeks now since their visit, and no one said anything about it so far. I thought it would be okay. Maybe I was wrong.
Perera sir wasn’t here yet, and this made me worry some more. Miss Chandra had told me to come to his office, sit down, and not touch anything. I couldn’t stay still though. Listening for footsteps, I slowly slid off the chair. Perera sir’s office wasn’t very large, but it was full of the most wonderful things. He had a globe on his desk, for starters. I carefully twirled it around on its stand, looking at the way the different countries swung by. Italy, Switzerland, Australia . . . all places I could only dream about, outlined like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
We usually only left the orphanage to go to school in the old white van that Perera sir’s nephew drove. Our school was just down the lane. When I was too small to go to school, I could even hear the children singing and playing on a quiet morning. About three times a year, Miss Chandra and Miss Nayana took us to the Mount Lavinia beach. I mean, it’s amazing when we go and we do have the best time, but sometimes I wonder if I could just jump in and keep swimming until I reach India, or maybe even Cambodia. Of course, I wasn’t really sure if I could even swim. I’ve read about it, but we’ve never been to a swimming pool or a lake like the children in the books we read. That reminded me—
The books in Perera sir’s office were far nicer than the ones we had in our library. They were still old, or at least older than what we had, but they were clothbound and had the title stamped across the covers in gold and silver. And the smell! I moved closer to the bookcase, past the small door right behind the desk that Perera sir always kept locked, so I could reach over and sniff them. Divine! I saw my reflection in the small glass panels on the door—haiyyo, my hair was such a mess. Good thing I noticed before Perera sir came. I tried the doorknob, just out of curiosity. Locked as always. The girls said Perera sir would lock naughty children in there, but he’s never done it as long as I could remember.
I looked through his desk too. Not much, not disarranging anything. Miss Nayana says that curiosity killed the cat, but then again, she also says that cats have nine lives, so I don’t see any harm in looking around.
I found a first aid box in his top drawer. Bingo. I could take some vitamin C tablets for Lihini and me. Those sour white tablets were the best and we loved how it made our faces scrunch up. But when I opened the box, all I saw were a bunch of injections in their packets.
I shut the box quickly. These must be the special injections that Perera sir gave Shanika to calm her down when she tried to suicide herself.
I heard his footsteps before he entered, and I jumped back into my seat, my heart beginning to pound again. I studied his face carefully as he sat across from me behind his desk, but he looked the same as always. His hair was perfectly parted to one side, his little mustache was trimmed perfectly, and his white shirt was tucked neatly. Miss Sarah had explained the saying “not a hair out of place” to us a while back, and I had asked her if I could use Perera sir as an example. She’d laughed and said she couldn’t think of a better one.
“Well, Paloma, how are you today?”
How was I? Ready to faint.
“I’m very well, thank you, sir. And you?” Thank goodness Miss Chandra had drilled it into me.
“Well. I’m well. Thank you. Good to see Miss Chandra is teaching
you your manners.”
I wish he would just tell me why I was here. Tell me what my punishment is and let me go. He was nothing like Sister Cynthia. I’m sure his punishment wouldn’t be bad. The waiting was killing me. I ran my tongue over my chipped tooth like I always did when I was nervous.
“So, as you remember, Mr. and Mrs. Evans visited us a few weeks back.”
So that was it, then. My heart sank. It was the dropped book. I didn’t think he would have remembered. But I guess what everyone has been saying is true—since Mrs. Perera died last year, Perera sir isn’t the same. He gets angry more easily, and Dumila said she even heard him yelling at someone a few days ago. We’ve never heard Perera sir yell, so that’s really, really bad. And he had arranged the day so beautifully during the visit and I went and ruined it by dropping that stupid book. How could I have been so silly?
“Y-yes, sir.”
“You know, Paloma, the Evanses are a very important family.” The Evanses. I loved how it sounded. It had such a nice ring to it. But now the Evanses hated me. And Perera sir hated me. It’s the curse. I’m sure of it. I broke a mirror and now my luck will be bad for seven years. Or maybe even forever, who knew?
I forced myself to keep listening to Perera sir, trying not to get distracted.
“They are good friends with Mr. Whittaker, you know him, don’t you? He’s the head of the charity that funds Little Miracles. Every year, it’s his blessings that provide for our food, books, expenses.” Perera sir made a sweeping gesture with his hand and I gulped. I wondered what my punishment would be. I’ve only ever gotten into serious trouble once before, when Maya told Miss Chandra that I poured turpentine on the old orphanage cat, Panchi.
“So that’s why, Paloma, it’s so important that we try to impress Mr. Whittaker. To show him that his efforts are not being wasted. I depend heavily on you girls to let him know that.”
I nodded, even though I felt like I was about to vomit.
“I know that many of you girls hope to be adopted when we have visitors, even though that is not always why they come. While it saddens me a little, because I do think of you all as my family”—his mustache twitched a bit here—“I know that I have to let you go if there’s a better life for you. I know you want it also, which is why these visits can bring about so much excitement and nervousness.”
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