My Sweet Girl

by Amanda Jayatissa

  “Stop it,” I hissed at her. “Get back to bed before we all get into trouble.”

  But it wasn’t like I had a lot of time to worry about Lihini and the curse. The last two weeks were a whirlwind. Miss Chandra took me to a huge building in Colombo called House of Fashions, where she let me choose a new pink dress, new socks with bows on the side, and even new underwear! It was the first time I had completely new clothes. We usually got bags of dresses given to us around Christmastime from Mr. Whittaker’s charity.

  And even though Miss Chandra said absolutely no way to the dress covered in sequins that I liked, I didn’t mind because I was so dazzled by everything in this huge building. Miss Chandra even bought me a new pair of shoes. My school shoes fit just fine and I told her that we could paste the broken buckle on the left foot with superglue like I always did, but she said no, that Mr. and Mrs. Evans would like me to be well dressed when I traveled. The new shoes were brown and had pink flowers stamped into the leather. They were really, really pretty, but a little too big. Miss Chandra said that was best because this way they would fit me for longer.

  Of course, the best part of this whole thing was having my picture taken. Not many of us had pictures of ourselves. Once, someone had taken a few pictures of the Christmas concert, but I wasn’t in any of them. Besides, the photos were all kept with Miss Chandra and Perera sir, who showed them to donors and charities who gave us things.

  So when I found out that I was having my picture taken for my passport, I was really excited. The photographer uncle at the studio asked me to sit on a box, and then he got me to get off and put another cushion on the box because he said I was too short. Then he switched these lights on, which were really, really bright and made my eyes tear a little, but I managed not to let any spill out. He kept asking me to do certain things, move my head a little to the left, then he said it was too much and to move it a bit to the right, then to keep my chin down. He kept telling me not to smile, and that was hard because I was so happy. Finally, with a flash so bright that I saw spots for an hour afterwards, he took my picture.

  I couldn’t believe that the girl in the little stamp-sized photo was me. Even though the photographer uncle kept saying that I must not smile, my lips were slightly parted. Just enough to show the chip on my tooth. The best part about this? Miss Chandra said that we had an extra copy so I could keep it! I showed the picture to Lihini, and Maya saw it, she’s such a nosey parker, and she took it and passed it around the playroom. But everyone thought the photograph was just as marvelous as I did.

  “You look like a film star,” Dumila said.

  “She does!” said one of the others.

  Shanika watched me pass around the photo from the corner of the room. She hadn’t spoken to me at all since that night, but I did catch her staring at me often. I know she was just sad that I was chosen and not her, but it wasn’t like I had any power over what the Evanses wanted, right? And it wasn’t like the orphanage was a bad place or anything. We had everything here. We had clothes and comfortable beds and went to school and never had to ask for more food like Oliver Twist. She had at least a year, maybe even longer, until she went to St. Margaret’s. I don’t get why she had to be so horrible and ruin these days for me. In any case, I kept up my act—that I was a little happy to go, but that I mostly didn’t want to.

  I wondered if Shanika noticed that I had started to hide some of her things. It wasn’t much. Her toothbrush. Her maths notebook. A few coloured pencils from her pencil case. Not enough for it to be a big deal. Just enough for her to get scolded for being forgetful. If she wasn’t getting scolded for ruining Wuthering Heights, at least she was getting told off for something.

  Miss Nayana had to finally threaten to take away the photo to get us to settle down.

  The other annoying thing about getting ready to leave, apart from Shanika, was that I had to see Upul more often. I usually enjoyed the school holidays because we hardly saw him unless Miss Chandra took us somewhere, but now I had to see him almost every day.

  He would lean over the steering wheel, one of his bony arms with these weird circle scars slung over the open window of the van, as he sang along to Sinhala love songs on the radio. When I was sure he was focused on driving, I snuck a look or two at him. He had bushy, wiry black hair that he kept slicking back, and a few pimples on his chin. He was no Shah Rukh Khan, that’s for sure. Not even close.

  Luckily, I was never alone with him. Miss Chandra sat in the front seat of the van, and I sat at the back, by myself. I hated driving long distances, it always made me feel a little sick. And the traffic from Colombo, where the shops and the passport office were, kept us on the roads for hours at a time. One time, Miss Chandra and I both fell asleep in the traffic. It was a hot afternoon, and I guess my dress must have slipped up a little bit while I slept. I woke up to Upul staring at me through the rearview mirror, right towards my lap. I quickly sat up and straightened my dress, so I don’t know if he saw anything, but he gave me a smile and raised his eyebrows. I vowed to never fall asleep in the van again. He did keep staring at me through the mirror though—often at my chest. I don’t know why he did. I was not like Shanika or Dumila, I really didn’t have much going on in that area.

  One time, he met my eyes, and he licked his lips, slowly. I thought I would vomit right then and there. I thought about telling Miss Chandra, but I guess it was also my fault for letting my dress go up like that. Miss Chandra was always telling us that we have to behave like ladies, and she wouldn’t be happy to hear about it for sure.

  And today, after the passport office, Miss Chandra asked Upul to stop at the pharmacy.

  “Wait a little, okay, Paloma? I have to get some cough syrup.”

  It was my first time being left alone with Upul, and I suddenly felt frozen.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, made sure my dress was tugged down over my knees, and looked firmly out of the window, refusing to meet his gaze. I could feel his eyes, crawling over me like a pair of slimy bugs.

  “So, you’re going to America, no? Sha, how posh.” Even his voice was slimy. I kept staring out the window.

  “Are you going to become an American now? Like those girls on TV? Wearing bikinis?” If I don’t answer him, he’ll stop talking, right?

  “I’d like to see you in a bikini. I’m sure you’ll look very sexy, ah.” My cheeks were turning red. Haiyyo, I hoped he couldn’t see. I dug my fingers into my sides so I wouldn’t cry. He waited a few moments before he went on, sounding angrier now.

  “Hey, hey, why don’t you look at me? Why do you have to be so proud? No one likes a proud bitch, you know. Not even in America. You’ll just do sex and become a whore there anyway, so no point keeping such a big head.”

  Every part of me was trembling. How much longer was Miss Chandra going to be? It felt like she was gone forever. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Thankfully, I could see her leaving the building and crossing the road to get back to us. Upul must have seen her, too, because when he spoke again, it was faster and in a lower voice.

  “No point looking so innocent, ah. I know you like to show me your panties from the back seat.”

  I gulped. So he had seen. I wished I could have closed my eyes and died, right then and there. Instead, I shut them so tightly my cheeks hurt and pressed my forehead against the glass. I heard Miss Chandra get in, and pretended to be asleep. The van ride took forever, and I was shivering the whole time, which was strange because I was sweating from my armpits. I only opened my eyes when we got back to the home. I jumped out of the van as soon as I felt it stop and I tried to quickly rush away, but Miss Chandra stopped me.

  “What do we say, Paloma?”

  “S-sorry?”

  “Upul has been nice enough to drive us around the whole day. What do we tell him?”

  “Thank you, Upul,” I mumbled, still refusing to meet his eyes. It was worse than any curse put on
me.

  “You’re welcome.” Slime and vomit and every disgusting thing in the world slid off his words and down my throat.

  29

  SAN FRANCISCO, CA

  I RUSHED BACK FROM Ida’s without looking behind me. I felt safer once I made it home. I barely pulled the door shut as I went straight over to the kitchen, yanked off my sweater, and got myself a drink. Scotch this time. No more of that sherry crap. It only took a couple of gulps for it to take effect. I relished in the numbness that crept over my cheeks.

  I knew I should call the police, but I needed a second to calm down. It’s not like fifteen minutes would matter to Ida. The police probably would refuse to investigate shit till she’d been gone forty-eight hours anyway. I turned on the TV and collapsed onto the couch. Friday the 13th was on, but I flicked right past till I found some nondescript, basic rom-com featuring a cast of interchangeable white characters who managed to afford apartments and wardrobes way above their pay grade. Just the kind of unrealistic, mind-numbing bullshit I needed.

  My hands weren’t shaking as much, thank goodness. I pulled one of Mom’s decorative knitted throws that I wasn’t really supposed to use over me, relishing in the sinking feeling I always got after a good, strong drink. My eyelids felt nice and heavy and my breathing was finally slowing down. I could feel myself drift off to sleep.

  And suddenly, I was awake again, though I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe I heard something? I rubbed my eyes. The sherry-scotch fog weighed me down, and my lips felt crusty. The movie was still running, a typical montage of the leading lady trying on various outfits. I looked around for the remote to turn down the volume, but couldn’t find it. The security alarm beeped, an annoying soft ding that drilled right into my skull, reminding me that I hadn’t turned it on again.

  I thought I heard something, so I stood up clumsily and made my way to the kitchen.

  The white lace curtains that hung over the kitchen sink blew in, ghosts themselves. The Bay Area winds—always howling, always wild. The lights were turned off on every house down the street except the one across from mine. The porch was empty, of course, but the swing chair they had up there was swaying back and forth. It was probably the wind. Or someone had just gotten off.

  I reached over and shut the window. I didn’t remember opening it.

  I looked around the kitchen. Everything else was as it was supposed to be. My overpriced groceries were still where I left them. The dishwasher was still full of clean cups and dishes that I was always a little too buzzed to put away. I got myself a glass of water and leaned against the counter when I felt something poke my hip.

  Oh yes, the phone from Ida’s bathroom.

  I checked the charging port. Looked like it took the same type of cord that my parents used. They usually kept a box of spare chargers in the garage. I mean, they kept spares of everything—batteries, cables, deodorant, detergent.

  I opened the door that led to the garage. Dad had one of those arms installed that forced the door to shut automatically, so I stuck Mom’s marble mortar and pestle on the floor to keep it open. The last thing I wanted was to be locked in the fucking garage tonight.

  The light flickered as I surveyed the plastic storage boxes Mom had labeled. I don’t know why the fuck they were prepared for the goddamned apocalypse or something, but it was a hoarder’s dream. Toiletries, stationery, canned goods, electronics . . . there we go. I opened the lid and rummaged through. All the cords were neatly clipped into perfect coils. Damn, even their storage was perfect. I compared the charging port on the phone to the wire heads and just found a match when—

  Bam.

  The garage door shut.

  What the actual fuck?

  I jumped to my feet.

  Leaving the boxes as they were, I edged closer to the door.

  My shaking hand fumbled with the knob. My palms were sweaty, so it slipped on the brass.

  Fuck this, Paloma. Get ahold of yourself.

  I rubbed my hands against my jeans and tried again.

  The door opened without protest.

  I stubbed my toe against the mortar on the floor. I guess it couldn’t hold the weight of the door, and the whole thing had swung shut.

  I took a deep breath.

  Seeing that woman spying on me outside Ida’s house had made me jumpy. That’s all this was.

  I went back into the kitchen and plugged Ida’s phone in to charge.

  I let it sit a minute and then turned it on. The lock screen image was one of Snowy, so it was definitely Ida’s phone. But why the hell would it be on the floor in her bathroom? Could she have just dropped it and forgotten about it? It didn’t seem improbable, especially if her Alzheimer’s was setting in.

  There were a few notifications but I couldn’t access them because there was a password to get in. I couldn’t get into her contacts either. I tried the usual 1234 and various combinations that I figured would work, but it looked like my luck for the night had run out. Damn it, Ida. The one time you decide not to be a typical old lady and it’s to come up with a creative password?

  I rubbed my eyes and groaned.

  That’s when I noticed how quiet it was.

  I’d left the TV on earlier, hadn’t I?

  I inched my way back to the living room. The TV was certainly turned off, and the remote was on the coffee table, where it would normally be.

  What the hell was happening?

  Was there someone in the house?

  I was fed up with this bullshit, and there was only one way to find out. Trembling like I was about to disintegrate, I mustered up every ounce of strength I could, grabbed one of Dad’s golf clubs from the closet near our front door, and checked every single room. I don’t know how much good a Callaway nine iron would be against a murderer, but I had to do something.

  Everything downstairs was normal. Every room upstairs as well. I left my parents’ room for last, but was already much calmer by the time I got there. This was just my nerves. I was just shook up because of my strange neighbor.

  I pushed the door open and turned on the light.

  The decorative pillows that were typically arranged methodically on the bed were piled up on the ottoman.

  The covers were pulled out. There was a clear indentation of a head on the pillow.

  And a Tiffany tumbler with Dad’s scotch lay on the side table.

  30

  RATMALANA, SRI LANKA

  THE TRIP BACK FROM the passport office followed me around like a raincloud. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake off the feeling. Even when I was distracted enough to forget what he said, or the way he licked his lips at me, or the way his eyes made me feel naked, even when I was talking to the other girls, or trying to read, or go about my business, that horrible feeling was always there. The girls, of course, had no idea and crowded all around me, asking for details of the trip to Colombo.

  “Was the building big?”

  “How many people?”

  “What’s a passport?”

  Then I had to complete my tasks, like mopping the dormitory and the playroom, and arranging all the books that the girls pulled out during the day. I hadn’t been able to finish all my responsibilities properly these days with all the trips to Colombo. Miss Chandra said it was okay, but I didn’t want Lihini to be stuck doing them because of me. She always ends up doing my unfinished work. It was bad enough that I was leaving her. I even tried to squeeze in some of Lihini’s tasks when I could, although she was recently asked to clean Perera sir’s office, and she wouldn’t let me because it was such a big responsibility she was trusted with. I’m glad she’s helping Perera sir. Maybe if she showed him how helpful she could be, he would try harder to find her a family.

  Lihini hasn’t been talking to me much these days. To be fair, I’ve been really busy also, but I do miss her. She doesn’t crawl into my bed at night as much no
w, and yesterday she said she was too tired, although I heard her moving around in the top bunk a lot. I know she’s upset that I’m leaving soon. Maybe she’s trying to get used to not having me around. It made my heart hurt.

  She was still talking to everyone about how she saw Mohini though. I wished she would stop. Dumila cries in her sleep every night, and now some of the other girls only walked around in groups because they were so afraid.

  I heard Lihini asking Miss Nayana questions also, about anyone who might have died before at the orphanage. Maybe a mother while giving birth? Whether anyone had any “unfinished business.” Thankfully Miss Nayana had the sense to ask her to be quiet. I couldn’t believe how insensitive she was being.

  The only person we know who had died was Mrs. Perera, and thankfully Lihini seemed to have some sense because she didn’t bring it up. I thought back to what I remember about Mr. Perera’s wife. We hardly ever saw her, and if we did it was from a distance. She had always been a bit odd, from what I recall. Maya told me that Mrs. Perera’s brother had died during a bomb blast. That she had never been the same since. I guess this was true. She looked so sad, the few times I did see her. And she stopped eating, and her beautiful black hair started falling out. She was nothing but skin and bones, at the end. They had wanted to take her away to Angoda, that’s where people with mental problems went, but she died before that. It was really, really sad, and Perera sir was obviously heartbroken.

  Thinking about Mrs. Perera pushed Upul from my mind for a few minutes, but the horrible feeling returned as soon as I let it. I wish I’d told him, well, I wish I’d told him something. No, I wish I’d told him to fuck off. I’m not really sure what that means, but I know it’s a bad word and Maya uses it sometimes when none of the teachers are around.

  I was so busy with all my tasks that I didn’t have time to have my wash before dinner, which Miss Chandra excused, luckily. She was kinder to me these days. Maybe she was worried about missing me also?