My Sweet Girl

by Amanda Jayatissa

  But the dumbstruck look on Sam’s face was enough for me to gather that this had never been brought up before. Great.

  I cast my eyes down—classic damsel. Hopefully now he’ll take the hint and shut up.

  “No, he never said . . .”

  “It’s still a little hard for me to talk about.” I could tell that this news was making his curiosity spin out of control, but Sam ate up my act like it was a steaming plate of rice and curry.

  He held his hands up like he was surrendering.

  “You’re absolutely right. What was I thinking? I was just excited to meet a Sri Lankan after so long so I was just being nosy. Haiyyo. You know the way we are, no? Anyway, enough of me being annoying. I told myself I would enjoy this evening, get to know a new friend, and that is what we will do.”

  Sri Lankans are so dramatic. They’re dramatic even when they are trying not to be dramatic. It’s ridiculous.

  I took another sip of wine.

  “So, are you working at the restaurant full-time?” Small talk was good, right? Keeps the focus off me, and maybe he would slip up and tell me something of value.

  “No, not full-time. I’ve just been there a couple of months. It’s only till I graduate. My parents thought it’d be good for me to work a bit. You know how Lankan parents are, no?” No, of course I don’t know, you insensitive moron. I never had them.

  “You’re in college, then?”

  “I’m getting my master’s at San Jose State. I left Sri Lanka midway through my degree.” He looked a little hesitant. “You’ve heard about the ragging that happens at our local universities, no? I think they probably call it hazing over here.”

  I nodded, even though I had no clue what he was talking about. I gave zero fucks about the trials of spoiled Sri Lankan boys.

  “Well, after I got here, it took me a while to finish my undergrad because I changed my major, twice. My father was so angry with me. He really wanted me to stick it out with my local degree and take over the family business. But instead, I came here. Thankfully, I got a scholarship.”

  His parents are definitely still sending him cash though, because how the hell could he afford twenty-dollar drinks at Heights working at the Curry Palace? Lucky shit. I thought back to when my parents would give me a monthly allowance. They had me work for it, even though it wasn’t the usual mundane chores most kids my age were stuck with. My mom had me help out with her charity events—doing readings and talking about life back in Sri Lanka. All the book club ladies wanted to know what it was really like. Was it terrible? There was no internet, or air-conditioning, and did we even wear shoes? Of course it must have been terrible for you, poor thing. I made extra cash when I told them that we had hand-me-down clothes, and that I had never eaten McDonald’s until I came to the US, like that ever even mattered to me.

  Those were simpler times.

  My phone started to vibrate. It was Mr. Williams. I froze for a second. First he showed up at my apartment and now the nonstop emails and calls. A part of me wanted to pick up and tell him to back the fuck off, but of course I’d never do that. I hit the button to silence my phone and gave Sam an apologetic smile, hoping he hadn’t noticed my hands tremble.

  “And you’re returning to Sri Lanka after you’re done?” I asked. “Or chasing the great, white, American dream?”

  He smiled. “It’s great here, but I would like to go back someday I think. I miss home. I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet another Lankan.” Something inside me grated, but I shrugged it off.

  “So what about you? What do you do, Paloma?”

  I get paid a fair bit of money to send naughty Polaroids and pairs of my used underwear to people who can’t get laid in real life. It’s almost like a community service, if you think about it. But I doubt Sam’s the kind of guy who would see it that way.

  “I mostly do freelance graphic design work.” My phone buzzed again. I eyed it, but resisted the urge to pick it up. It wasn’t him. The subject line of the email I received flashed across the screen—I want you to sit on my face . . . I exhaled in relief. It was just one of my regulars, Big Pete. He sends me pictures of his junk with every request. A little (or big!) something for you! he would add, like I should be thankful to get an unsolicited dick pic in my inbox every week. I could assure him that he was certainly not worthy of his preferred name, but hey, he paid on time and ordered in bulk, so I’d call him whatever the fuck he wanted. He was due another package soon. I made a mental note to slip him an extra Polaroid next time. He might be a pervert, but at least he knew his boundaries.

  Sam must have seen me glance at my phone.

  “I don’t really mind if you pick it up. You know we aren’t as sensitive about cell phones the way Americans are. If you have a call, then you have a call. It could be work. It could be your mother.”

  I stuffed the phone in my jacket pocket.

  A woman with long black hair walked by me, her elbow managing to smack into my back.

  “Excuse me,” I called out, giving her my best smile. Bitch. She didn’t even hear me. The bar felt loud and cramped. We were on a rooftop, why the hell was it so hard to breathe?

  “I need to go to the ladies’ room. Excuse me.” I slid off the stool and touched my jacket pocket again to make sure my phone hadn’t fallen out. Fern used to say that I was emotionally attached to my phone, but she said a lot of shit that barely made sense. I can’t help it that I’m careful with my things. She was the one obsessed with my emotional attachments, which was kind of ironic if you thought about it.

  It wasn’t like I would ever pee in a public restroom. I just needed a moment. I washed my hands and wiped them carefully. I fluffed out my hair—it hadn’t gotten too frizzy, thankfully. The soft brown highlights I had my colorist painstakingly put in had started going brassy, but it cost a fucking arm and a leg, so I should probably hold off until I get some steady work. I hoped the color didn’t make me look too fake. I fucking hated pretenders.

  Damn, the lighting in the bathroom made my skin look fantastic.

  I took a deep breath, just like Nina had told me. Sam didn’t know anything. He seemed friendly, and nice, and apart from being as Sri Lankan as they got, nothing else seemed particularly wrong with him.

  That’s a fucking relief.

  “Hi.” I smiled into the mirror. “I’m Paloma.” I heard someone flush at the last stall.

  Fuck.

  I’m not just some crazy girl talking to myself. I just want to see what others see. So many people go through life having no idea what they really look like. Who they really are. You know that psychologists have said that if you were to see a clone of yourself walking down the street, the chances are that you wouldn’t recognize them? That’s how little we really know about who we are and what we look like to everyone else. Think about it.

  I pulled out my lipstick and started touching up as a very skinny, very blond, very, very drunk girl swayed her way up to the counter next to mine. Her eyes glazed over a little as she pawed at her hair. She hadn’t washed her hands and didn’t seem to have any intention to.

  Our eyes met briefly in the mirror. I gave her a polite smile.

  “Love your shoes,” I said. I didn’t. It was just something to say to a drunk girl in the bathroom.

  “Oh Em Gee! Aarthi!”

  “Sorry?”

  “You biatch! I haven’t seen you since college! How are you?”

  She was facing me now, not looking at me through the mirror.

  “Sorry, I don’t think you have the right person.”

  “Fuck off, how drunk do you think I am?”

  Bitch was pretty fucking plastered. But she wouldn’t leave me alone.

  “We partied together at the Alpha Delta Pi cultural night. You rocked up in a sari and showed me how to put one on. I can’t believe you don’t remember!” She let out a loud belch and
swayed a little.

  “That was definitely not me, I promise.” The smile hadn’t left my face, but this conversation needed to end. I stuck the lipstick back in my purse and checked my phone.

  “You definitely look like her.” Drunk Blondie shrugged. “You sure you don’t have a twin, or sister?”

  “You know, I think I just have one of those faces.” Yeah, right. What I had was a tan and the terrible luck of being a brown person in a place where everyone thought we looked the same because our skin was the color of goddamned caramel.

  I braced myself and smiled even wider. “You have a nice night now.”

  I pushed open the bathroom door with my elbow and let it bang shut. Another stupid fucking white person. Find someone with brown skin and black hair and figure they all come from India, and they all know to drape a fucking sari and make curry and dance the goddamn bhangra. It wasn’t just this drunk bitch in the bathroom—I was so often being mistaken for some other brown chick, whether or not they looked anything like me.

  I stalked back to the table and downed my glass of wine without even sitting down.

  “You okay?” Sam asked. He was just a little too cheery. Like he had made up his mind to stop moping about his missing friend and enjoy the evening. Sri Lankans were great at that—avoiding anything uncomfortable. Well, good. I’m more than happy to avoid all this bullshit.

  “Want to get out of here? I know a place where the drinks are a third the price.”

  22

  RATMALANA, SRI LANKA

  I WANTED TO GO back to the dormitory, but Miss Chandra made me wait overnight in the sickroom with a sili-sili bag of ice on my face. And she gave me this superlong lecture about how I should take better care of myself now that I was getting adopted, and that my part was very important because of the big donation the home would get once the adoption went through.

  It was really, really annoying because she wouldn’t shut up for ages, and also because the sickroom was in a completely different wing, next door to where her own room was, so she could see if I was reading instead of sleeping like she told me to. And I missed Lihini. We didn’t really get a chance to speak after what happened with Shanika, and the sick feeling in my stomach stayed. She must be so upset, thinking I was just going to leave her at the orphanage, and that she was alone from the first night itself.

  Miss Chandra kept me late the next morning, too, so I must have missed Lihini in the dining room. Then, straight after that, Perera sir called an assembly. I didn’t think he was going to make the announcement so early in the day. But Shanika’s attack on me yesterday probably pushed him to do it. She ruined everything. No wonder no one wanted her. She was a walking curse.

  Miss Nayana asked me to sit right in front, but I kept turning around, trying to see if I could spot Lihini in our usual place at the back. Us older girls got the last row. We said it was because we were the tallest, but really, it was the best row because we could whisper a little and no one would catch us. I couldn’t find Lihini anywhere.

  Perera sir stood at the front of the hall. A bead of sweat slid from the side of his forehead and down his cheek as he fanned himself with his notebook. I wished I had a notebook to do the same.

  “Good morning, girls. It’s so nice to see all your smiling faces. The news I have for you today was supposed to be a surprise, but I hear that good news can sometimes spread too quickly.” He looked over at me and winked, which made me smile. I couldn’t sleep the whole night in the sickroom. I just kept tossing and turning, imagining what I would do to Shanika if I got the chance. I wish I slapped her back a little harder, or said a few mean things to her. Lihini got a good slap in, even though she was lucky that Miss Chandra or Miss Nayana didn’t see. She always knew to act at the right time like that. I always thought about what I should do long after everything was over.

  But the way Perera sir explained it now, you would think it wasn’t a big deal at all. I thought back to what Lihini said about having good thoughts. I know I should let this go. I just wish my ears didn’t get all hot whenever I thought about Shanika.

  “You girls behaved in an exemplary manner during the recent visits we have had. This good behaviour has led to an increase in the donations given to the school, so we will be able to buy more books for your library, and also pay for a music teacher to visit you girls after school.” Everyone started clapping.

  “And also”—Perera sir smiled—“one of our very own is being adopted by a family in America.” There were cheers now too. Everyone was happy for me. I couldn’t believe it. After what happened with Shanika, I thought they would all hate me. But they were clapping and smiling and there was even a wolf whistle.

  “Paloma, could you please join me?”

  I stood up, even though my knees were shaking. I was already in front, just a few meters from Perera sir, so I just turned around slowly to face the room. Everyone was smiling and clapping. This was unreal. I finally saw Lihini at the back. She was smiling at me too. I made sure I didn’t smile. She mustn’t know that I’m so excited about this. It’ll break her heart.

  Shanika was at the back as well. To my surprise, she was clapping, though her face was as serious as mine. Gosh, she must hate me. I wonder if Perera sir had to give her one of those injections again, to calm her down.

  “Paloma, you have been a part of our home since you were born. We are very happy and proud that you are moving on to a bigger, and brighter future. This is a wonderful step for all of us at the orphanage. As you know, we haven’t had an adoption here in quite some time. We get a lot of good publicity for our little home when something like this goes through, so we thank you for impressing Mr. and Mrs. Evans enough for them to make you their own. As you move to America, remember to love your new family as you love your family back here. Remember to treat your new parents with the same love and respect that you have given Miss Chandra, Miss Nayana, and myself. And remember to never forget your Sri Lankan values. America is an exciting place, but it is very different from here. You must take care to not lose yourself and your roots.”

  I nodded. I could feel sweat starting to drip down my back.

  “Tell your new friends in America about us, about the Little Miracles Home, and about what we do here. I’m sure that, in time, you will be able to show us your gratitude for taking care of you for the first twelve years of your life by helping us raise even more funds in the future. I know you won’t let me or your family here down.”

  I was hot. Too hot. I nodded again, and Perera sir took both of my hands in his.

  “I wish you all the best for a wonderful future, Paloma. Make us proud.”

  A slight breeze drifted into the assembly hall over the applause, blowing in the rattan blind we used to cut the glare. The relief of the cool wind made me look toward the window for just a second, and when I looked back, my eyes searching for Lihini, she was gone. She must have snuck outside.

  I’ll go find her right after this assembly ends. I’ll go find her and tell her that things will be okay. How was I supposed to know that things would never really be okay again?

  That’s when we heard it, clear as a bell, cutting through the wishes and claps and whistles like a razor.

  A scream.

  Lihini’s scream.

  23

  RATMALANA, SRI LANKA

  I WAS THE FIRST out.

  “Lihini!” I called out, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the bright morning light after being in the gloomy assembly hall.

  She was at the end of the garden, hugging herself, rocking back and forth, seated right there in the dirt.

  “Lihini, what happened?” I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at me, though her eyes wouldn’t really connect with mine. She looked helpless, like an abandoned little kitten.

  “Lihini.” Perera sir’s voice boomed over mine. “Come now, child. What’s all this?”

  A smal
l crowd had gathered around her now as she shook and shivered even though it was a really hot day.

  Miss Chandra bustled over, pushing the girls aside and kneeling next to Lihini. She stroked her forehead and checked for a fever, speaking to her in the soothing voice she used when any of us were sick.

  “Tell me, baba, what is wrong?”

  Finally, Lihini looked up. She was still shaking. When she spoke, her voice trembled so much I wasn’t sure I heard her right.

  “I s-saw her.”

  “Who, child? Who did you see?”

  Lihini looked straight at me, her eyes wide. “Her.”

  What? She couldn’t be serious. I looked around the garden. Apart from the girls, and teachers, and Perera sir, and even Upul and the gardener, there really was no one else.

  “What do you mean, Lihini?” Perera sir asked.

  “I saw the ghost. I saw Mohini.”

  The gasp that went through the group of girls could have been louder than Lihini’s scream.

  “What?” asked Maya.

  “Noooo!”

  “I told you ghosts were real.”

  “No, no, aney, I’m scared.”

  “Ooooh!”

  Two claps cut through the air. Perera sir looked angry.

  “Come, girls, this is more than enough. Miss Chandra, please take Lihini to the sickroom. It’s clear she’s very upset that her friend is leaving.”

  By now, Miss Nayana and Miss Sarah had joined the group as well, and they started talking to the girls, assuring them that it was nothing, that Lihini was just upset.

  Miss Chandra had wrapped her fat arm around Lihini and pulled her to her feet. She kept rubbing her head and speaking to her softly.

  “Come, child, let’s go to the sickroom. You can have some tea and lie down for a bit. It’s this heat, I tell you. We are all feeling faintish these days.”