It felt nice to step into the night when I finally made my way outside to the bathroom. It was a small room made of concrete and was a few meters away from our dormitory. This was great for days like today because it meant I could take long washes in the night without worrying about the noise disturbing anyone. I onned the light on the outer wall as I went in, glad that the bathroom was empty. I hoped the water would wash off the disgusting feeling that Upul left.
I filled the large bucket from the tap, undoing my braid and combing out my hair. I wonder if they use coconut oil on their hair in America. Miss Nayana says that if you stop putting oil in your hair, it starts to fall out. Maybe I should take a bottle with me, just to be safe. I wonder if Mrs. Evans ever puts oil in her hair.
I used a smaller bucket to pour water on myself. The water was really cold, and I shivered slightly. The good thing about washing in the afternoon is that the takaran roof would get hot, so it kept you nice and warm. Now, in the dark, the single bulb that hung in the middle of the bathroom only gave a dim light and no heat at all. My shadows were long and scary on the wall. I tried not to think about Upul as I soaped myself. I got my menses last year, so Miss Nayana told me that means I’m a woman now. And that being a woman means that men look at you differently. Was this all that Upul was doing? Lihini does say that that is the way boys show you that they like you—by teasing you.
But Upul wasn’t just teasing me, was he? I thought back to the way he kept staring at me, the cruel things he said, and it made my skin crawl all over again. I doused myself angrily with more icy water, even though it wouldn’t wash away the sick feeling in my stomach.
I know you like to show me your panties from the back seat. What if he told Miss Chandra that I did it purposely? My heart dropped. What if Sister Cynthia got to know? Would she cane me in front of everyone? Would they tell Mr. and Mrs. Evans? Oh my goodness, what if they cancelled the adoption because they thought I was a bad girl? Miss Nayana said that no one liked bad girls and that they will never get married. But surely, Mrs. Evans will understand that it was just an accident. That it was hot, and I had fallen asleep. I splashed another bucket over my head. I needed to stop overreacting.
I put soap on my hair with more force than usual. It took some effort, pushing my hands through the tangled mess. Thick, black strands wrapped around my fingers, refusing to glide off. Suds slid into my eyes, sharp and burning. For the first time since this afternoon, I felt better. I was just pouring some water onto my face when I heard the footsteps outside.
Footsteps at this time of the evening? That was odd.
“Anyone there?” I called out. The gardener would have gone home by now, and the girls should be in bed. I suppose it could be Miss Chandra or Miss Nayana coming to check on me? But that didn’t seem right.
Footsteps again. And someone whistled a tune. None of the teachers ever whistled.
My body went cold. Could it be Upul? He didn’t stay at the home like Miss Chandra, Miss Nayana, and Perera sir did. So he should be home by now too. But what if he didn’t leave? What if he stayed behind, waiting for me?
I wanted to check outside, but I didn’t want to open the door. What if he forced his way into the bathroom? There was a small window high up near the top of the wall. Maybe I could see through that?
I pushed the now empty bucket near the wall and turned it over as quietly as I could. I stepped onto it lightly, hoping it could take my weight without sliding around, and tried peering out. It was dusty with thick cobwebs along the grille. I couldn’t really see much, but it didn’t look like anyone was there. I was just climbing off the bucket when it happened. The light flickered once, twice, and then went off completely.
I let out a small scream, covering my mouth with my hands, but immediately scolded myself. The bulb would have gone out, that’s all. No need to be such a drama queen.
I stepped down from the bucket carefully, reaching for the towel and drying myself as fast as I could. I pulled on my nightdress and opened the door with a burst. The garden looked clear, but I rushed back into the main building anyway. I knew I was being a scaredy-cat, but I couldn’t help it. What if Upul was waiting for me in the darkness? What if, well, what if it was something else? Something like the ghost Lihini kept talking about? Was this a part of the curse? Gosh, I was such a chicken. I used every bit of my concentration to push Mohini out of my mind and focused on getting back inside as soon as I could.
Most of the lights were offed inside as well, but I knew my way around without a problem. Keeping my eyes fixed in front of me, I climbed the stairs to the dormitory. I only realized that I had been holding my breath when I stepped inside and released it. I leaned against the door, trying to breathe deeply, trying to calm down. See, nothing happened. The bulb would have burnt out. Miss Nayana showed us how that happened the other day, and also how to change the light when it happens. The whistling was probably nothing. Maybe the gardener was in later than usual. Maybe Perera sir had stepped outside. When I finally felt like my heart wasn’t going to explode, I made my way over to the bed. The girls were fast asleep, I could tell by the gentle snores. I wondered if Lihini was asleep as well, or just pretending again.
I always check my bed properly after the Wuthering Heights incident, just in case. There hadn’t been any repeats, thank goodness. Anyways, there wasn’t any strange smell tonight, so I knew there was nothing to worry about.
But then I noticed something on my pillow. I could barely make it out in the moonlight. It was about the size of a stamp. My photograph. I picked it up and ran my fingers over it. It was dark so I couldn’t see it clearly, but something felt different. I brought it close to my face and gasped. Someone had scratched out my eyes in the photo.
31
SAN FRANCISCO, CA
I BARELY GOT ANY sleep, obviously, but the fresh morning air brought about a small sense of calm. Nina taught me this exercise when it felt like things were spiraling out of control. The first step was to make a list of things you could put into action right away. They didn’t have to be big things. Usually my life went like—Step one: Get out of bed. Step two: Brush teeth. Step three: Work on graphic design website. Step four: Do ten minutes of breathing exercises.
The first step on today’s list was essential if I was to get through this. Whatever this was.
Step one: Stop drinking. Even though my mind kept wandering towards the bottles of amber liquid that Dad kept in steady supply.
Because even I’m not deluded enough to believe that all this alcohol wasn’t making my brain do somersaults. I had to keep a clear mind if I was ever going to figure out what happened to Arun. And possibly to Ida. Nina would be so proud of me, but, well, it wasn’t like I could tell her.
Fern, my old roommate, was around the last time I quit. It’s true she was a royal pain in my ass, but she told me that I just needed something to replace the urge—something that would keep me distracted. I had suggested amping up my Tinder profile, but she kept insisting that the replacement shouldn’t be “damaging” to my body. I mean, I’m all for a little bit of kink every once in a while, but what the hell kind of sex was she having?
Because she was into all this hippie-dippie, dance-naked-under-the-full-moon-and-burn-sage-to-clear-out-negativity bullshit, she encouraged me to drink green juice.
I complained, of course. Protested that it tasted like pickled sewage and made my poop turn green. But the bitch did have a point. I was still irritable as hell without a shot of rum in me, but every time I got the urge to visit the corner store, I would just head over to the juice bar instead. It smelled hot and sticky in there, like the fruit was half an hour away from rotting, but the older gentleman who ran the place said in a totally noncreepy way that I had a bright smile, and they gave me an extra shot of wheatgrass from time to time.
My skin started to look good. I lost some of the bloat that was slowly building up around my lower tummy. And miracu
lously, I was able to focus on some of my design work. I even tried some of the deep-breathing meditation techniques Fern was always trying to make me do. I always just ended up dozing off, but at least it got her off my back for a while.
My grocery run yesterday consisted of the basics—pasta, pesto, and soda—so I didn’t have most of the vegetables or greens I needed to make juice myself. I googled the closest cold-pressed juice spot. Surprisingly, the nearest one was downtown, which was kind of strange. You’d think the trendy pseudo-hippie moms who owned Himalayan rock salt lamps and went for hot-yoga classes in my neighborhood would be lining up if a juice bar opened up around this block, but no such luck.
I pulled on a hoodie and stuck my headphones in. I guess a walk wasn’t the worst thing for me right now either. Getting out of my parents’ home felt like a relief.
I kept a close eye on the opposite house as I walked by, but there was no real movement that I could see. The neighbor was probably sleeping off all the crazy. I shook my head and laughed to myself a little. I couldn’t believe how much she was able to scare me last night. Obviously she had some sort of problem and couldn’t stop spying on me, but to think she was Mohini was beyond ridiculous. Even for me. She freaked me out enough that I didn’t even grab the folder I found in Ida’s desk. I would have liked to get a better look at those documents, and if I’m being honest, it makes me kind of nervous that Ida had them to begin with.
I kept flicking through the copy of Wuthering Heights that crazy-neighbor had left in the mailbox, hoping it would give me some sort of clue, but there was nothing. No highlighted words, no notes in the margins, nothing.
And then there was my parents’ bed. That had to be me, right? It was the only explanation. I could understand someone breaking in to rob the place, but who the hell would come inside to take a fucking nap? No, it had to be me, after a few of the drinks I was explicitly told not to take.
I tried not to think about it too much.
I checked the mailbox at the top of the driveway, just in case. No books, just a few odd bits and bobs of junk mail that were in there for god knows how long, and a postcard.
It was a picture of a coconut tree–dotted beach. Yellow sand, bright blue waves. I knew where this was, of course. My heart felt full as I turned it over. Can’t wait to see you soon, my sweet girl.
How did they know it would reach me at their place? They probably wanted to surprise me when I was watering the plants or something. My heart hurt. My head, too, just a bit.
But still, it felt good to know that they thought about me, despite it all.
The walk downtown wasn’t unpleasant. The weather had cooled off this past week, even though I was too preoccupied to really notice. It was what Dad would call crisp. The leaves were that beautiful rust color that I could never get over since I moved here. I lengthened my step a little to stamp down on a fallen leaf and smiled at the satisfying crunch.
The juice bar was a little too warm when I finally made it inside.
“Green Goddess smoothie, please. Large.” Yes, that’s right. I was a fucking walking cliché. All I needed was a crop top, oversized hoops, and those ridiculous high-waisted mom jeans that made my ass look like the back of a Camaro to fit right in. I couldn’t help it though. I fucking loved green smoothies.
The young boy behind the counter gave me a toothy smile.
“Name, please?”
“I’m Paloma.” I gave a friendly smile right back. It was nice to do something normal, for once. No second-guessing. No worrying about dead roommates or potential break-ins or creepy neighbors.
I was on my phone, scrolling through Facebook profiles of various Aruns again, when someone stopped right in front of me.
“Paloma?” Fern’s smile was wide but it didn’t quite make it all the way up to her eyes. Her hair was ablaze with her latest botched dye job—purple and maroon this time, and her crocheted halter top was right on brand.
“Oh, hi, Fern. How are you?” Smile, Paloma. Mom’s voice echoed in my mind as I arranged my face so I didn’t look like I’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now. Fuck, what were the odds?
“I’m good. I’m actually getting my chiropractor certification at the center around the corner. This is where I come to get my juice.”
Of course it fucking was. Undesirable coincidences seem to be a bit of a theme for me.
“Oh, okay.” I mean, what the fuck else was I supposed to say anyway? It’s not like we kept in touch after I kicked her out.
“This is out of the way for you, isn’t it?”
“Just in the neighborhood.” I wasn’t in the mood to explain to her that I’d moved into my parents’. She’d fucking love to pull that apart, wouldn’t she? Analyze what I’m doing there and give me advice and tell me that she’ll support me no matter what. I already had a fucking therapist, so no, thank you, Fern.
“Hey, so, I’ve actually tried to get in touch with you. I just wanted—”
“Green Goddess smoothie, large, for Paloma!” Saved in the nick of time.
I guess I’ll have to find out what you want some other time, Fern. And thank god for that.
I gave her a little smile and walked up to the counter.
“Enjoy your smoothie!” the boy said.
“Thanks, I will.” I stuck a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. It was more than I should tip for juice, and definitely more than I could afford right now, but hell, if I could reach behind the counter and kiss this kid without being arrested, I would.
“It was nice seeing you, Fern,” I said, walking by her and out into the street.
“Hey, Paloma, wait.” Did she seriously follow me out? Bitch couldn’t take a hint even if it hit her on the head with one of her healing crystals.
I kept walking but she caught up to me and grabbed my elbow.
“Hey, look, I just wanted to know how you were doing, that’s all.”
I looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I’m fine, Fern. As you can see.” I gave her the sort of patronizing smile my mother used to give homeless people.
“I’ve tried calling you. Look, I just wanted to say, well, it’s okay. You know. It’s okay. I forgive you for what happened. I understand.”
I was in no mood to do this.
“Okay, Fern. Thank you, I guess. You take care now.” I just wanted to get away.
“Look, I get it, okay. You don’t like getting close to anyone. It scares you. You’re worried you’ll let me down like you did with your friend in the orphanage. But you don’t have to be scared.”
The smile never left my face, but my words came out in a hiss.
“You have no fucking clue what you are talking about, Fern. You’re a lying, thieving bitch and I just want you out of my life.”
“You know that’s a lie, Paloma.” She looked pointedly at my ears. “We were friends. Good friends. But you don’t feel like you deserve to have friends, Paloma, and so you self-sabotage. With me, with your parents—”
“Don’t you dare bring them up!” My voice came out louder and some passersby turned to see what the commotion was. I took a deep breath. “You don’t know what you are talking about. I can’t help it that you’re obsessed with me. Please, just leave me alone.”
When I walked off this time, she didn’t follow me, but I heard her loud and clear through the buzzing traffic.
“Nice earrings, Paloma. Guess you didn’t lose them like you thought.”
I didn’t look back as I stomped my way home. Who the hell did she think she was, cornering me like that? Thank god she was out of my life. All that prying, all that poking, getting me to talk about my feelings. I’d only mentioned Lihini to her once. And even then I never told her the whole story.
But then she got this bright idea that we should try to trace at least some of the other girls from the
orphanage and pushed me to talk to my parents about visiting Sri Lanka again, and so I knew she had to go. I hid my earrings under the soles of a pair of running shoes she never wore, cried out frantically that they were missing, and was outraged when I “discovered” them in her room. She was devastated when I asked her to get out. I was upset about it, too, of course. It was nice having her around.
But I didn’t work so hard to move on from my old life just to have her meddle in it now.
I took a chug of my green juice, but that shit tasted disgusting. I dumped the cup into the trash, turned the volume up on my music, and walked back home.
It was a warm afternoon, and the whole neighborhood looked sleepy. This would change as the sun dipped further into the horizon, and the young moms in Lululemon would roll their expensive strollers without fear of sunburns as their husbands drove off in their Teslas or whatever save-the-environment car was popular to some hipster bar that sold overpriced, handcrafted, artisan beer on tap. The grass was already starting to brown on the neatly maintained front lawns, exposed and inviting and unfenced.
I crossed the street to step out of the sun, my feet moving on their own, too preoccupied about Fern and her never-ending prying to notice that I absentmindedly wandered up the wrong driveway. It was only when I saw the lady with the long hair sitting on the porch that I jerked back into reality.
I didn’t think she noticed me, thank god. Her eyes were glazed over and she was clutching a small, pink blanket around her. Her lips were moving slightly, too, like she was mumbling something to someone, or maybe it was to herself. My legs felt glued to her driveway. I was transfixed. Then she looked over at me. And as our eyes met I couldn’t help but shudder. Her face remained impassive, but she stood up slowly and walked into the house.
* * *
• • •
I CHECKED IDA’S PHONE again. There was a notification for a missed call, but as usual, I couldn’t get into it.
My Sweet Girl Page 19