But Lihini’s eyes searched me out as she left.
“I didn’t imagine her,” she whispered.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Perera sir.
“Let her go, Paloma.” His voice was soft, not angry anymore. “She’s going through a hard time. Let’s give her some space to recover, okay? Come, let’s have some ice cream.”
We were all given ice cream to celebrate my good news, and I was given an extra cone because, well, I was such a big part of the news, I guess.
We didn’t get ice cream very often, usually only when people gave us dhanes during a birthday or Christmas. Vanilla was my favorite. I always liked it more than chocolate, even though everyone made fun of me because they said that’s the most boring flavor. But not today. No one said a thing today as Miss Nayana handed me the pale yellow cone and I licked at it halfheartedly, making sure that I didn’t drip anything onto my dress.
The whispers were still going on about Lihini, though, until Miss Chandra came back from the sickroom and told everyone that they wouldn’t get any more ice cream for the whole year if she caught us talking about Mohini ever again.
And so the attention finally switched from Lihini to why we were having ice cream in the first place.
“You must all try to be like Paloma and read more,” Miss Sarah told the girls. “Mrs. Evans especially chose Paloma because she saw her reading her very favourite book. See how a book could change your life?”
The little girls nodded and started to crowd around me. “Akki, akki, when are you going? How far away is America? Will you send us stickers?” The questions kept coming.
“Hari, hari. Of course. What stickers do you want?”
“I want one of Sanath Jayasuriya.”
“Can I get one of the whole Sri Lanka cricket team?”
I giggled a little at this and messed up their hair.
“I don’t think they play cricket in America.”
The gasp that followed made me laugh. I guess they’d already forgotten about Lihini.
“No cricket? But how?”
“You must teach them. You can take my ball.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I finally said. “When I go, you can have my sticker box. Okay, no?”
“Really?”
“Really, Paloma akki? Really?”
“Promise?”
“Yes, yes, I promise. I’ve had Jayasuriya for years, no? And most of the other cricketers as well. You can have them, but you have to promise to share, okay?”
“You will still send us letters, right? And photos also?”
“Of course. Of course I will.”
One of the younger girls spoke next, her eyes brimming with tears. “You won’t forget us, no?”
I pulled her into a big hug.
“You mustn’t cry, okay? Then I’ll start to cry. And very soon everyone will be crying. And Miss Chandra won’t know what to do. Okay?”
“Why would you cry? Aren’t you happy to go?”
I was happy to go. But I couldn’t let them think I was abandoning them. I didn’t want them to feel bad.
“I’m sad to leave you all.” I hoped they would believe me. It wasn’t a complete lie. Just not a whole truth. Mostly, I was relieved that I wouldn’t be stuck here with no other choice but to leave to St. Margaret’s in a few years. Like Shanika. I know I should be sad for her—that it would be horrid if I was in her place. But every time I thought back to how she attacked me, I started to feel a twisting deep inside. Like I was glad she was stuck here. How dare she accuse me of stealing her place? It wasn’t my fault that I got chosen. Anyways, who would even want to adopt her? She’s the weirdest girl here.
The whole day was similar. Girls saying they were excited for me, asking me not to forget them, asking to sign in my autograph book. No one seemed that interested in my autograph book before, so this was really, really awesome.
Remember the girl in the city
Remember the girl in the town
Remember the girl who spoiled your book
Writing upside down, Maya wrote, upside down, right on the middle page. Of course she wanted to do something to ruin my book. I slowly pulled off the sparkly pink ribbon from the end of her plait while she was concentrating on her ice cream cone, and threw it away in the dustbin. I felt a lot better after that. It was her favourite ribbon.
The sun was starting to set when I finally managed to disentangle myself from the girls and sneak back into the garden. I sat on the swing, enjoying the peace and quiet. I barely had a moment to myself since I heard the news. And I was worried about Lihini. Was she okay? What did she really see? Surely, it couldn’t have been Mohini, right? Miss Sarah said we had overactive imaginations. I don’t really know what that means, but this might be it. Maybe she just imagined everything. Maybe Perera sir was right, that she was just upset because I was leaving.
I noticed Upul washing the van in the driveway. He looked over at me and smiled. I looked away and jumped off the swing. It was time to stop being such a drama queen.
I thought Lihini would still be in the sickroom, so I was surprised when I saw her, reading under the tree as usual.
“Sudhu, are you okay?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
“Yeah. Miss Chandra said I could leave if I was feeling better since I didn’t have a fever or anything. She said a few prayers and made me learn a gatha to chant if I’m ever scared.”
“What happened, so?”
But Lihini shook her head.
“Miss Chandra said I imagined it.”
Did she, then? Her bottom lip was trembling.
“Did you have your ice cream?” I asked instead.
“No. I didn’t feel like ice cream.”
“In vain, haiyyo. It was really good,” I lied.
She just shrugged.
“Lihini, I’m sorry, you know.”
She finally looked at me directly.
“About what?”
“About going. You know that, right?”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I’m sorry to leave you. You must feel terrible.”
“No, sudhu. I’m happy for you, really.”
She didn’t look very happy. I shook my head.
“This is me. You don’t need to pretend. You know that, right?”
Her lips pressed together slightly.
“What makes you think I’m pretending?”
“I didn’t say you were. I said you didn’t have to.”
“Well, I’m not. I’m not pretending. Or lying.”
“Aney, sudhu, I didn’t mean it like that, so.”
“Why is everyone telling me how I’m supposed to be feeling? I know what I saw, you know.”
“So you think you actually saw her? Mohini?”
“What do you mean I think I saw her? So you don’t believe me either?” Her voice rose slightly.
“No, I mean, look, I know you’re upset. It’s okay to be upset. I know it must be hard for you that I’m leaving.”
When Lihini stood up, it took me by surprise.
“As hard as it must be for you to imagine, Paloma, everything is not about you.”
I was shocked. She never spoke to me that way.
“Oh, and also, could I have my book back, please?”
“Your book?”
“Yes, my Wuthering Heights. It’s mine, remember? I’ve been looking all over for it. You never gave it back to me.”
And with that, she stalked off back inside.
What on earth was she on about? Did she actually see a ghost or was she just upset like Perera sir said? And why was she suddenly bringing up the book? We had always shared everything before. I had left it on the bookshelf. Same as always.
I was about to follow her inside to say sorry. I didn’t
mean to doubt her. I knew she must be upset about the adoption.
But then Miss Chandra called me into Perera sir’s room, where they had me sign some papers so I could apply for a passport.
“What’s a passport?” I asked.
“It allows you to fly on a plane.”
“On a plane?!”
“Yes, of course, child. How else did you think you would go to America?”
“I—I . . .” I had actually not thought about it. I would get to go on a plane? On a real-life plane? This was unbelievable! I was actually a little relieved that I was to go by plane and not boat. We weren’t allowed to watch Titanic, but we all knew it was about a very big boat that everyone said wouldn’t sink but then it hit an iceberg and Jack died, leaving Rose all alone. We even had a small poster of the Titanic in our dormitory, and Maya would sing “My Heart Will Go On” every single day on the swings even though she sounded terrible.
“Would I be going on the plane to America all by myself?”
“No, child. Mr. and Mrs. Evans will come and pick you up as soon as everything is ready. It will take about a month, we think, now that they have gotten all the approvals. They need to do a background check on you also.”
“On me?” My heart beat faster. What if, well, what if they found something out about me that wasn’t good? Like that I got a really bad mark on my science exam? Or that sometimes, Lihini and I skipped morning prayers at school and hid in an empty classroom so that we could read instead?
“Nothing to worry about. Your mother already transferred guardianship to us when you were born. They will double-check the document, that’s all.”
“And my father?”
Miss Chandra just pursed up her lips like she did when we asked too many questions. “He was never in the picture, Paloma. Nothing to worry about that.”
“But—”
“Now, we need to make a list of things you might need for your trip,” she said, interrupting me firmly. “Mr. and Mrs. Evans have already sent across an allowance for you to get new traveling clothes, and a suitcase, and whatever else you might need. So let’s take a look at what you have, and we can go into Colombo next week for shopping, okay?”
I was going shopping in Colombo? We rarely get to go to Colombo. A rich family invited all the girls to their house in Colombo for their daughter’s birthday last year. I remember there being a lot of traffic, and a lot of buildings, and more people than I had ever seen in one place. There was a big security checkpoint, and I was worried seeing the army uncles with their guns. What if one of them accidentally shot us? I remember Dumila had saluted them, and some of the other girls giggled.
“Why were they there?” I asked Miss Chandra.
“To keep us safe from the terrorists, child. You know this.”
I did know this. I remembered the big bomb blast a few years ago at the twin towers and how that was all we could talk about for weeks. But we were in Ratmalana, away from any real danger—at least that was what Perera sir told us at assembly. He had to call a special assembly because some of the younger girls wouldn’t stop crying when they heard of the bomb. I never cried, but I saw a newspaper a few days later—women climbing down ladders in their underskirts as black smoke leaked out of the building like snakes slithering after them. I had bad dreams the rest of the week about being trapped in a building I couldn’t escape.
But I had to push these terrible thoughts from my mind. I was going shopping in Colombo. I had an allowance. I could buy a new dress and a suitcase. This was amazing. No. Divine.
I was thinking about what kind of dress Miss Chandra would let me buy as I walked back to the dormitory. I wished I could get a short, pink one like Mrs. Evans was wearing, but then I remembered Sister Cynthia and shuddered. I wonder if Miss Chandra would let me take Lihini when we went shopping. Or would that upset Lihini some more?
I needed to sit down and catch my breath. All these new things were happening so soon. The sun was just setting, so the whole room was purple and orange, and a little darker than it usually was. It was empty, of course. The girls were probably having their wash and helping to set up for dinner.
I reached my bed and was about to throw myself on it, but there was something on my pillow.
A book. Wuthering Heights.
That was strange. Maybe it was Lihini’s way of saying sorry. We usually weren’t allowed books in the dormitory and had to sneak them in if we wanted to read in the night by torchlight.
I picked up the book, but something felt wrong. It was heavier somehow.
My hand felt sticky, and the book was wet.
I felt my heart start to race.
I opened it.
It took a moment for me to realise, but the book was drenched in blood.
24
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
MY PILLOW FELT WET and crusty on my cheek. I rolled over onto my back and instantly felt like throwing up. Everything swayed, even though I was still lying down.
I heard buzzing. That must be what had woken me up.
It felt like I had my ass handed to me by a five-hunderd-pound gorilla. Eyes still partially closed, I reached out to my dresser for my phone, but my fingers couldn’t feel it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I sat up in bed. If I had lost my phone . . . Nope, there it was. Just a few inches to the right of where I normally keep it. Obviously, that was the source of the buzzing sound. I’d set an alarm for this morning. My battery was at 3 percent. Definitely needed a charge. Notifications lit up on the screen. Two emails from clients, and a text from Sam.
Had a great time. Message when you wake up. BTW, you brought back leftover Chinese food and some OJ. You wanted me to remind you. Such a responsible drunk x
I had to admit, even I impressed myself sometimes.
But why the hell did I set an alarm for so early? It wasn’t like I had to be anywhere. I was just rolling around to go back to sleep when it hit me—Ida. Fuck. She wanted me to come over at ten.
I considered just not going, but then she’d probably come knocking on my door anyway. Goddamned jobless old women with nothing better to do with their time.
If only my head didn’t hurt so much. What did I get up to yesterday? I felt myself under the covers. I was still wearing the same clothes as last night, thank god. I didn’t want Sam to think I was some sort of booty call. I mean, he wouldn’t be the worst person I’ve fucked. He just seemed like the kind of guy who would appreciate a bit of a chase, that’s all.
Bits and pieces from last night floated around in my head. Shots from a bottle of cheap tequila we’d picked up at a corner store. Getting some delicious gas station Chinese food. That stupid blond bitch in the bathroom. Mohini walking past the bathroom door while Arun lay unconscious in the kitchen.
Fuck me. That wasn’t from yesterday. I took a deep breath and held it.
Finally, when the throbbing reduced, I pulled myself out of bed and went to the bathroom. I should probably try and get some work done today, after I finished off at Ida’s. My site wasn’t going to build itself, and no one’s going to believe I’m a freelance graphic designer without a professional website. I took a nice, long shower, making sure the water was scalding. I inhaled the steam that built around me, and let the pressure massage my shoulders, thinking back to the cold buckets of water I had to pour on myself to bathe back in the orphanage.
I was so impressed when I first got here that I used to take hour-long showers twice a day. Mom and Dad never said anything about it either. I think they were just thankful that I stopped slathering coconut oil on my hair every chance I got. I remember how Mom got upset with me when they took away the bottle I brought from Sri Lanka and I snuck into the kitchen and used the cooking oil instead. It’s just so greasy and gross, she said, and bought me some expensive conditioner. She even convinced me to leave my hair down and stop pulling it back in a supertight braid. I wasn�
�t popular in high school, but what little semblance I had of a social life, I owe it all to her.
I often think back to the Elizabeth Evans I saw at the orphanage. She probably had no idea what she was getting into. It was right on brand for her and Dad to want to change the life of an orphan from a tiny little island that no one had heard of. I just don’t think they anticipated resistance in the form of coconut grease.
Of course, this was well before coconut oil became a huge beauty fad and then Mom would tell all the women in her charity circle that my black hair was beautiful because of the way we would take care of it “back in Asia.” And suddenly, everyone didn’t seem to think that coconut oil stank anymore either.
I had nicked my leg while shaving, and a single dribble of blood made its way down my calf and onto the tile. I quickly wiped it away with some tissue and all-purpose cleaner. The last thing I needed was for it to solidify into the grout. Now that would be a bitch to clean.
The steam from my shower had made the mirror fog up. I wiped it away.
“Hello, I’m Paloma,” I said, more out of habit than anything, watching the way my face fell into an easy smile. Well, I guess you couldn’t really call it an easy smile if it cost your parents a few thousand dollars. One of the first things we did when I arrived here was visit a dentist to get my front tooth fixed. You’re an Evans now, Dad said. And an Evans would certainly not have a chipped tooth. My new teeth were perfect, just like them.
The water from the shower continued to drip down from the head even after I’d turned it off. It echoed softly through the bathroom while I toweled myself off and dried my hair. The dark circles under my eyes made me look like a straight-up crack addict, so I dabbed on two different shades of concealer that made me look ashy anyway. Damn all these makeup companies who don’t have a fucking clue that brown girls aren’t just one shade of “tan” and make it near impossible to find makeup that actually works.
Finally, I pulled on my jeans. I put my worn clothes in the hamper and tucked the red thong in a ziplock bag. I didn’t see my shoes from yesterday. I wondered if I’d left them in the garage.
My Sweet Girl Page 14