My Sweet Girl

by Amanda Jayatissa

  “Because I am her sister in San Diego, dear.”

  I felt dizzy.

  Oh my god.

  I was right. Ida was missing. Something had happened to her.

  Urgency crashed over me in waves.

  “Look, I tried reporting this yesterday but they wouldn’t believe me. It’s a long story. Would you please phone the police? And tell them it’s urgent?”

  “Yes, I’ll do that right away.” She was all business. It reminded me of Ida in a way that made my heart twist in my chest.

  “Um, also—” I had to ask.

  “What is it?”

  “I know where Ida keeps her spare key. Shall I go over and see if I can find out anything else? Maybe she left something—?” It was a long shot, and I’d already been over there twice, not that Dotty needed to know that. But I had to fucking do something. And if Ida’s sister gave me permission to go over, well, then that asshole Gavin couldn’t accuse me of anything dodgy, could he? Besides, it would be a good chance to get those documents of mine that I didn’t have the foresight to grab the last time. Maybe they had something to do with Ida’s disappearance.

  “Yes, yes, of course. She might have taken a fall. She might be hurt. Oh, dear—” The worst thoughts were just starting to enter her mind. But they still weren’t as bad as what was racing through mine.

  “Give me your number,” I asked, keying her details into my phone. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  I hit save and then went back outside.

  Let Gavin and his insane wife spy on me all they wanted. I didn’t have anything to hide.

  I walked over, shoulders back and chin high. Let them look if they wanted. Let them judge me all they could.

  I shot what I hoped was a withering look towards the Burch house while I retrieved Ida’s key and stuck it in the lock. If only my hands weren’t shaking so hard, I could’ve gotten it in on my first try.

  I let myself in and triple-checked that I had locked the door behind me. I picked up the mail that had fallen by the door, and set it on the kitchen table. Then I grabbed the bottle of sherry and put it in the cupboard under the sink. Out of sight, out of mind.

  A quick scan through the house showed that nothing had been disturbed, so I sat down at the kitchen table and pawed through her mail. Just a bunch of flyers for car washes and dental clinics and god knows what else.

  I rubbed my face. It was puffy and swollen and my cold fingers felt nice against my eyes. I pulled them away. I didn’t deserve to feel nice. I was pathetic. Hiding from the truth for so long. Letting the world explode around me without caring who would get hurt. My parents, Ida, even that asshole Arun. Who else would be hurt because of me?

  I went over to the desk to grab the folder. Maybe there was something else in there that I had missed the last time.

  But the folder wasn’t there. The drawer was empty. That’s strange. Had someone else moved it? I had thought about taking it the last time I was here, and I did leave in a bit of a rush. Did I take it with me? I was pretty out of it on Ida’s sherry, but surely I would remember something so significant, wouldn’t I?

  Ida’s asked us to keep an eye on her place when she’s out of town. Could Gavin or Appy have taken it?

  I couldn’t dwell on it for long, however. There was an urgent yapping outside. It sounded like Snowy. And then, out of the blue, a scream.

  I went over to the front door and yanked it open, scanning the street.

  Appy, Snowy, and Gloria were at the top of my driveway, and it was obvious they were in the middle of something. Appy was gesticulating wildly, her hands flying in the air. She was more alive than I had ever seen her. Gloria said something back, head down, trying her best to back away from her while Snowy tugged at the leash. Then Appy swung her arm towards her, connecting with Gloria’s face.

  Gloria shouted out as I ran up to them.

  “What the hell is going on?” I asked, my voice loud. Let the neighbors hear me. I don’t care.

  Appy didn’t stop to take in anything. She just turned around and started hurrying back to her place.

  Snowy continued to yap, pulling away.

  “She hit me,” Gloria said, clearly shocked.

  “What?”

  Gloria continued to cradle her cheek in her hand. She reached down with the other and tried to calm the dog down, but the terrier wasn’t having any of it.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” I asked, starting to follow Appy.

  “No, Paloma, don’t.” Gloria grabbed my arm and pulled me back. Appy had made it to her house in record speed.

  “Why? She tried to attack you.”

  “Please. Please don’t. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please. She’s a wealthy woman from a good neighborhood and I’m—” She gestured to herself. “If she complains to the cops, there’s no chance they will believe me. I’ll lose my job.”

  I knew a little something about the cops not being on your side, so I relented.

  “At least let me get you some ice for your face?” I offered.

  Her hand was still on her cheek. Damn, Appy must have hit her quite hard.

  “No, no, it’s okay. Really.”

  “I insist. Come on.”

  I didn’t wait for her response but instead started walking up my drive. I knew she’d follow, and I was right.

  “So what was all that about, anyway?” I asked, once we got to the kitchen and I’d given her a bag of frozen peas to hold over her face. We’d put Snowy in the backyard and he calmed down after a while.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “She was walking towards your house, I think, and when she saw me coming, she freaked out and started shouting. I couldn’t really make out what she was saying.”

  She was coming towards my house, huh? Guess she’d recovered from her phantom flu, then.

  “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with her, really. She keeps watching me. Watching the house. It’s starting to really freak me out.”

  “Yeah, she’s got issues.” Gloria shrugged.

  “How does your face feel? Shall I take a look?”

  “No, it’s fine, I’ll just hang on to these peas, if you don’t mind. It’s helping a lot.”

  I racked my brain for something else to say. Anything that would ease the tension. This was the type of thing Mom was always so good at. She’d say something that was insightful and sensitive but also lighthearted without being too funny, and anything uncomfortable would be quickly swept away into a corner. But I was having a hard time doing that today.

  Gloria stood up to get herself a glass of water.

  Say something nice, Paloma. Pay her a compliment.

  “I like your hair,” I offered. It was random and, truth be told, awkward as fuck. I mean, this was the kind of shit girls told each other, right? How the fuck was I to know anyway? It’s not like I really had girlfriends, but my mom said stuff like this all the time and everyone always seemed to eat it right up.

  Her back was to me, so I couldn’t see her reaction. But thank god she didn’t sound weirded out when she spoke next.

  “Thanks. I know it’s a little much. I just felt like a change, you know.”

  “A change from what?”

  I usually didn’t give a shit about people’s personal lives, but I felt like I owed it to her. I felt responsible for her attack, somehow. Like she’d gotten caught in the middle of this weird, undefined war between Appy and me.

  “A change from everything. Don’t you ever feel like you need that?”

  Did I ever.

  “So, I thought to myself, why not pink? It’s my favorite color, after all.” She turned and leaned against the kitchen counter, moving the peas up just a fraction so she could bring a glass of water up to her lips.


  “That’s a good enough reason as any. Pink was my favorite color, too, when I was a child.”

  “Only when you were a child?”

  “Yeah, well, a lot has changed since I was a child.”

  Gloria smiled at that. “I’m sure it has.”

  Something in the air slackened. We both started to relax a little.

  “You know,” she said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “I used to play this game when I was a child. I would pretend to be someone else. An adult. A teacher. Someone, anyone else who wasn’t me. I loved it. I just never thought I would end up playing the same game as an adult.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it all feels make-believe sometimes, doesn’t it? Like I’m just wearing an adult costume and pretending to be someone else.”

  “I think we all pretend, don’t we? I know I do.” Lord knows no truer words had ever been spoken, but thankfully, Gloria wasn’t here to judge me. She smiled again, turning back to the sink and setting her glass on the counter.

  “I guess at some point, maybe this will all feel natural, and we can take off our masks and find out that it’s not quite so bad.”

  Sage advice from a dog walker with pink hair.

  There was a moment of comfortable silence.

  “Any news from Ida?” she asked finally.

  Ida, fuck. The spell was broken. Back to the real world, where everything was a fucking mess.

  “Her sister called, from San Diego.” Gloria’s eyes grew wide. “She’s not with her. She’s calling the police to file a missing persons report.”

  “Oh.” Gloria’s hands flew to her mouth. “Did she say anything else? Do you think the police will come here?”

  Damn it, I’d just freaked her out again.

  “They might, but look, don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

  She clutched the ice to her face a little harder.

  “There’s really nothing much we can do right now, and panicking won’t get us anywhere.” Damn, how the hell was I managing to sound so calm when I was freaking the hell out myself?

  I suddenly remembered the missing documents.

  “Also, have you been inside Ida’s since we realized she’s been gone?”

  “Me? No. I’ve kept Snowy with me, but I came by today to get some extra food for him. Why?”

  I was suddenly overcome by the urge to check on something. Luckily, Gloria was gathering her things and calling out to Snowy too.

  “Let me know if anything comes up,” she said, and I made my way to my parents’ room.

  If I had taken the folder in my drunken state, well, there’s only one place I would put it, right?

  * * *

  • • •

  IT WASN’T THE BEDDING—the decorative pillows were just as they were when I changed the sheets and made the bed yesterday.

  It was the smell.

  Mom’s smell.

  I could recognize the fragrance of Anaïs Anaïs anywhere. The jasmine notes were strong and didn’t fade easily—reminding me every day of the jasmine vine that grew in the orphanage. Their room shouldn’t smell like her. Not now. It should smell of the freshly laundered sheets, or the organic carpet cleaner I’d sprayed before vacuuming, not of Mom’s perfume.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I opened the closet door and reached up.

  My fingers didn’t connect with anything.

  I tried again. Still nothing.

  Fresh bolts of fear shot through me as I pulled the stool from Mom’s dresser into the closet, and used the flashlight from my phone to check, but I knew it wasn’t there. Just empty space. Dust bunnies and empty space and—

  A head.

  I almost dropped my phone.

  A doll’s head. The light from my phone flashed on its cheap plastic eyes. The kind with the wiry, black eyelashes that stuck out like spider legs. Its ruby-red lips were painted into a frozen smile. Synthetic yellow hair matted into tangles. And it was dirty. Smudges of soot on its cheeks. Like it had been rescued from a fire.

  I picked it up, waves of panic and nausea pelting down on me. I had seen this doll head before. I wasn’t going crazy. She had found me. It might have taken eighteen years, but she had finally found me.

  I jumped out of my skin as my phone started ringing.

  “H-hello?” I really shouldn’t have picked up. I hadn’t even looked at the caller ID.

  “Paloma, hi! It’s Sam. I’m just outside. I tried you a few times but I couldn’t get through. I got some amazing Indian for lunch today and thought you’d love it. Can I come in?”

  “Now’s not a good time.”

  “Shall I leave it on your porch, then?”

  I’ll be damned if I ever let anyone anywhere near my house again.

  “Now’s not a good time,” I repeated firmly, ending the call.

  It felt like she had reached out and wrapped her thin, bony fingers around my neck. I couldn’t breathe.

  I managed to pull myself out of my parents’ room and collapsed on the landing.

  Deep breath in. Slow breath out. I’m Paloma.

  Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Think, Paloma, there must be an explanation to all of this.

  Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Just like Nina said.

  Nina. I needed to speak to Nina. She would know what to do.

  I pulled up her number on my phone. It took two tries to hit the green button, but it went straight to voice mail. I tried her cell. Voice mail too. What day was it? Tuesday or Wednesday? Fuck, she didn’t see clients on Tuesday. Would she even be at the office? I didn’t know where she lived. She never told me. What kind of friend was I? I never thought to ask. I just went on and on about myself. And I couldn’t find her, now that I really needed her.

  Maybe she would be by the office. Maybe she spent her days off just soaking in the pristine whiteness, napping on her couch, having spotless white dreams. I knew it was a stretch, but I had to go. I couldn’t stay here.

  I struggled to my feet, pulling on a jacket and grabbing my purse. I knew you didn’t want to see clients on your days off, Nina. But this was an emergency. I eyed the liquor cabinet as I waited for my Uber. There was a half-empty bottle in there. I opened it up and took a small swig. Just for good measure. Just to relax a little for the ride across the bridge.

  36

  SAN FRANCISCO, CA

  “PALOMA? PALOMA, SERIOUSLY?” NINA’S voice was distant, but she definitely sounded pissed.

  “Paloma, what on earth are you doing here?”

  My palm felt like chicken wire across my face when I rubbed it. Hang on. That burn was real. It wasn’t a wire, my face was stinging.

  What the actual fuck?

  My eyes hurt as I opened them. My head hurt. Actually, my whole fucking body hurt.

  Nina’s face peered down at me.

  “Paloma, are you all right? Oh my goodness.” And then, to someone behind her: “Call 911.”

  Call 911? No fucking way.

  “Nina.” My words felt thick in my mouth. “Nina, I’m fine.”

  Her eyes flashed angrily at me.

  “I hardly think you’re fine, Paloma. You need help.”

  “That’s why I came here. To speak to you. Because I need help.”

  “I think you need a little more than me right now, Paloma.” Puh-LOW-ma. Just like Mom said it.

  I sat upright. I sat upright on the steps to Nina’s office. That meant—fuck. That meant I would have collapsed on the steps to Nina’s office.

  “I’m so sorry, Nina. I was just having such a bad day. So many weird things keep happening.”

  “It’s a good thing the building security recognized you and called me, not the cops.”

  I held my head in my hands. Everything was still spinning around.


  “I’m honestly so sorry, Nina.”

  “Paloma, you know I trust you, right? You need to answer me honestly. Have you been drinking?”

  I just continued to hold on to my head.

  She sat down on the step next to me. Her lips were set in a tight line. There was a brown smudge on her white skirt, and this was somehow more upsetting than the lack of her usual warmth.

  Something inside me felt like it was about to explode.

  “What happened?”

  “Ida’s missing. And the neighbors, well, the woman is crazy and she won’t leave me alone. And Arun’s dead, I just know it. I found a doll’s head, Nina. A doll’s head. In my parents’ room. It was from her. It was definitely from her.” Everything just bubbled out. I wasn’t making sense, but Nina would understand. She had to.

  “A doll’s head?” She frowned. See. It wasn’t just me.

  “I know it’s crazy, Nina. That I sound absolutely fucking crazy, but I think she’s found me.”

  “Who?”

  “You know who, Nina. She’s managed to follow me here. After all these years she’s followed me here.”

  “Paloma, please, you have to calm down.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, which forced me to do the same.

  “You were in your parents’ room?” she asked, finally. Her face shifted.

  I managed a nod.

  “That’s good progress, right?”

  “If you want to ask, you should just fucking ask without tiptoeing around it, Nina.”

  To her credit, Nina didn’t flinch.

  “Paloma, you and I both know that you’ve refused to talk about your parents since they died.” Her voice softened. “It’s never healthy to suppress trauma like this. I’m glad you’re finally letting me bring this up.”

  “I’m not crazy, you know, not completely. I know they died, okay? I know my parents fucking died.”

  She looked at me and smiled sadly.

  I had finally said it.

  Took me two fucking months and I finally managed to say it out loud.

  I begged them not to go. Not to leave me. Not to go back there. Especially after the letter. After we argued. But they wouldn’t fucking listen. And then they died. A goddamned car crash on an island so tiny that most Americans don’t know it exists. The irony is almost comedic.