My Sweet Girl

by Amanda Jayatissa

  I screamed for what felt like forever, and then everything went dark.

  38

  SAN FRANCISCO, CA

  SAM MET ME ON the curb, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes not quite meeting mine.

  “It’s not that fancy, okay? My place, I mean.”

  I snorted.

  “Trust me, I’m sure it’s fine.”

  I had been in my share of grungy apartments. Hell, I live in a grungy apartment when I’m not kicking it in the suburbs. But I suppose I hadn’t quite anticipated how grungy Sam’s apartment would really be. The elevator didn’t work, and I swore I saw a roach or two crawling around as we climbed the dank stairs. But I mean, fuck it, I’m from Sri Lanka, I’m used to dealing with creepy-crawlies.

  We reached the third floor, and Sam led the way in. The door opened into a tiny kitchen, which smelled strongly of onions and garlic, and two brown guys were eating curry with their hands. Both men stared at me openly and then looked away shyly when I made eye contact.

  “Kaavin, Ritesh, this is Paloma.”

  “Hullo,” one of the guys called out, but Sam hurried me to the stamp-sized living room. It was so small because a part of it was flimsily walled off with sheets of cardboard.

  “I’m in there.” Sam pointed to the curtain that hung in the gap between two boards. This was his room? Really? Cocktails at Heights and this was where he lived? How Sri Lankan could he get?

  I must have looked a little confused, because he felt he had to explain.

  “This was a two-bedroom apartment, but we thought we could save a bit by walling off a part of the living room and making it three.” He stuck his hands back into his pockets. “You know how ridiculous rent can be in the city.”

  “Looks cozy.” I wasn’t lying. The smell of the curry reminded me of, well, it felt comfortable, somehow. Familiar.

  I pushed the curtain aside and stepped into Sam’s room. It was neat, clean, and sparse. Just a small single bed, tiny dresser, and few of those cheap plastic drawer sets you get from Ikea. There was the faintest smell of something else too. Something very different from curry. I couldn’t put my finger on it until I saw the small Buddha statue sitting on top of a stool. There was ash next to it.

  “You light incense every day?” I asked.

  Sam smiled. He hadn’t really said much since I got here, which was odd for him.

  “I try to. It reminds me, you know.”

  I guess I did know. I inhaled deeply. None of this was as terrible as I thought it would be.

  “I like it.” I mean, it’s a fire hazard, but I did like it.

  “Would you like a drink? We have beer, I think. And soda.”

  “I’ll take a Coke, if you have it.” I really didn’t want to go back to feeling loopy again. Not so soon, at least.

  I sat on the bed and browsed through a Travel Sri Lanka calendar that Sam kept on his bedside table. Waterfalls, coconut trees, elephants—all things I had seen pictures of but never visited. Mom and Dad wanted to take me back around my eighteenth birthday for our family vacation, but I had the worst nightmares for a week until they called it off and we went to Hawaii instead. I did wonder at times what it might be like to visit, but I couldn’t risk doing it now anyway.

  Thinking about my parents was like reopening an old wound. Or maybe it was an infected wound that never healed. And then there was all this bullshit with Appy next door. Something weird that I just couldn’t put my finger on. Something about her that left me off-kilter, and it wasn’t just the scarf she had given Nina. And on top of all this I was so fucking worried about Ida that I had trouble breathing every time I thought about it. Fuck, I hoped she was okay. I really couldn’t lose someone else right now. It would shatter me. I could feel tears starting to prick my eyes and tried to brush them away before Sam came back.

  “My roommates think you are very beautiful.” He handed me a can of Coke with a glass of ice.

  “Ha.” I rolled my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Fuck, too late. He’d seen the tears, and was now looking over at me like I was a dying kitten.

  “Nothing. It’s nothing. So, you’ve been here long?” I tried to change the subject but I was having no such luck.

  Sam took my hand and led me over to the bed, where he made me sit down and then pulled a chair over to face me. God, even in the worst of times, he was a perfect fucking gentleman.

  “You know, since both my mother and father worked so much, it was my grandmother who looked after me.”

  Why the hell would I care, Sam?

  “And she always said that whatever was in our heart, we must put it out. We have to. Otherwise it will make our hair turn grey.” He paused for dramatic effect and touched a strand of my hair that had come loose. “And your hair is really beautiful. You should tell me what’s wrong. Let it out. For the sake of your hair, I mean.”

  It was so fucking ridiculously corny that I snorted.

  And then Sam started to laugh.

  And I started to laugh.

  And before I knew how or why, I started to cry.

  I was a goddamned crazy person, laughing and crying and then he was holding me and then his hands were in my hair.

  I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. But if we were doing this then maybe we didn’t have to speak and maybe I didn’t have to tell him how my parents were dead and I’ve been so very, very sad and I didn’t know how to cope and it makes me drink too much and hallucinate things from a past I would like very much to forget.

  He smelled of Head & Shoulders shampoo and Tide detergent. I let myself lean into him. I hadn’t leaned into anyone in a long time.

  “Are you sure this is okay, Paloma?” He pulled back a little.

  I probably smelled bad. I couldn’t remember the last time I shaved, or put on deodorant. I was a disaster in every single way.

  But still, this was okay. It was okay because it took my mind off things, for even just a minute. It was okay because no one had asked me if I was okay, not like this, in a long, long time.

  I turned my face up and kissed him.

  It was awkward and clumsy and my teeth knocked against his.

  But it was still okay.

  39

  SAN FRANCISCO, CA

  THE COVERS FELT WARM and soft as I snuggled into them. They cocooned over me while I rolled onto my side, hugging a fluffy pillow. I hadn’t felt this rested in months. I reached over for my phone, but my arm only hit air.

  Confused, I cracked open an eye. I was still at Sam’s.

  I groaned a little as I pulled the covers back over my head and burrowed down, not wanting to think about last night. I could hear Sam snoring, his back to me as he faced the wall. I looked around the room, calculating how much time it would take me to pull on my clothes and be out the front door before he woke up.

  Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I regretted screwing him. It’s just that morning-afters are awkward as fuck. To be honest, the whole thing was pretty awkward. The way he scrunched up his face, the way his moans were clipped and mechanical, like he was embarrassed to make any noise. The way he was more self-conscious about his body than I was about mine.

  But it wasn’t terrible. What Sam lacked in skill, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm. And he had stroked my hair afterwards, and said all the right things, and I felt a small sense of calm that I hadn’t felt in a while settle over my chest.

  And his bed wasn’t totally uncomfortable. Maybe lying in here a few more minutes wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

  Sam stirred a little and I shut my eyes, hoping he would think I was still asleep. I wasn’t ready to have the morning-after conversation about who will call who and whether anyone will even be calling the other person at all. But he didn’t wake up, I don’t think. He turned over, flinging his arm over my body and moving closer to me.


  I opened my eyes just a little bit. His mouth was open slightly and he seemed to be completely knocked out. The sleep of someone who has never done something terrible in his life. His arm was a little heavy and I shifted my weight, hoping it wouldn’t wake him. He had a tattoo on his forearm, one I hadn’t seen before since he always wore long sleeves. There were scars, too, dotted along his arm and shoulder. Small, circular scars, faded with time.

  “Where did you get these?” I murmured, half to myself. I didn’t think he heard me, but he opened his eyes just a crack.

  “Hmm? These? Remember I told you about the ragging at Colombo university?”

  “Hmm.” But I was too calm. Too peaceful to think too much about it.

  I closed my eyes and let myself drift off again.

  I woke up for the second time to my phone ringing.

  I groaned and rolled to my side. Sam was gone. I checked the time—fucking eleven a.m. I hadn’t slept this late in a while. Sam probably left for work. He did say he had to get in early to help prep for the lunch shift.

  My phone kept ringing. I checked the caller ID. It was Officer Keller.

  Fuck.

  I sat up straight in bed and was wide awake in less than a second.

  “Officer Keller?” I asked, answering. No niceties needed here. There was only one reason why he would call. I wished and hoped with everything in my body that it was good news. That they had found Ida. Or that they were at least taking me seriously now and looking into it.

  “Miss Evans, good morning. I have some news—”

  “Have you found her?” It was all I cared about.

  “Her?”

  “Y-yes. My neighbor. Ida Mulligan?”

  “Oh, your neighbor. Um, no. This isn’t about her. It’s actually about your roommate. Arun Kumar?”

  I froze.

  “Y-yes?”

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the body of a young Indian man was just picked up. The description matches your roommate. Would you be able to come into the station now and ID the body? We can’t seem to track down any other relative.”

  My hands started shaking.

  So I was right.

  I knew it.

  I knew he was dead.

  But the realization didn’t bring me any peace. If Arun was dead, that meant that there was a very real killer out there.

  And now I had to go and ID a body. Fuck me. I wasn’t made to be on an episode of fucking CSI.

  I stood up and paced the room. Maybe I should call Sam? I mean, it was his friend, too, and I was sure he’d be okay to come with me to the station.

  I rang his phone and got his voice mail.

  Of course he wouldn’t have his phone with him while he was at work.

  I paced around the room a little longer.

  I had to speak to him. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would mind if I called his work. Crossing boundaries was one of his favorite pastimes, after all.

  Luckily, I already had the number saved.

  “Curry Palace,” a girl answered. Maybe it was the same girl whose dad owned the place.

  “Hi, could I please speak to Sam. It’s an emergency.”

  “Sorry, Sam, was it?”

  “Sam, or well, maybe he goes by Saman?”

  “Hang on,” she said, but I could hear her calling out to someone else.

  “Hey, Rinosh, what was that new guy’s name again?”

  “Prakash,” someone else replied.

  “We got a Sam here? Or Saman?”

  “Nope.”

  “Sorry.” She returned back to the phone. “There’s no Sam or Saman here.”

  “Are you sure? Saman Alwis? I met him there before.”

  “You guys sure there’s no Saman Alwis here?” she called out again.

  “Yes!”

  “Yep, no one by that name works here.”

  I hung up, dread starting to hover around me like a swarm of bees. Fuck.

  What was happening?

  I met Sam at the Curry Palace, didn’t I?

  No, hang on—

  Sam had just fucking walked up to me in the street and introduced himself and I fell for his whole damn story about working with Arun.

  The realization smacked me straight in the face.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  I should have known something wasn’t right. The way he kept showing up, the way he couldn’t take no for an answer.

  The way he convinced me that I imagined Arun was dead.

  And if he lied to me about the Curry Palace, what else could he have lied to me about?

  Dread settled over me like a cloud of dust. Oh my fucking god, could he have lied to me about where he got his scars from? Could he—?

  No way. There was no way he was connected to the orphanage. Right?

  I was such a dipshit. All this time I was so focused on Appy that I didn’t see what was right in front of my nose.

  I grabbed my bag and jacket. I wasn’t going to wait around till he came back. I was heading to the police station now anyway. I could fill Officer Keller in then.

  40

  RATMALANA, SRI LANKA

  A GECKO SLITHERED ACROSS the top of the white wall, at the very edge, where the wall meets the ceiling.

  Tsk, tsk, tsk, it called out.

  Miss Nayana said that the gecko’s cry is unlucky.

  This gecko was just a baby, no bigger than my little finger. Its tail was just a stub—probably hurt itself somewhere, making it fall off. But it didn’t matter to the gecko. Their tails grow back, good as new. It would be like nothing bad ever happened.

  It turned back again, moving in short bursts, then holding still to see if it had been spotted.

  But there was just me, in bed.

  In bed.

  In bed at the sickroom.

  My face throbbed far, far worse than the time when Shanika slapped me after she found out about the adoption.

  I tried to touch it but it was bandaged—the gauze wrapping around from the bottom of my jaw to the top of my head. I started to remember what happened, but it was just bits and pieces that came back to me. Shanika had pulled my hair. I followed her down to the garden. Lihini and Maya were there.

  And then—

  Fear flooded through every part of me. Mohini. She attacked me. She—she had bitten my face. I started to scream again. I screamed and screamed until Miss Chandra came in and forced me to drink some medicine which made me feel woozy and like I couldn’t scream anymore.

  I don’t know how long I lay in bed. My head didn’t feel quite there, like I could only half see the shadows of the tree branches move across the wall, like the gecko was only partly there, like my mind was stuck between two places.

  There may have been voices, from time to time, maybe faces, too, appearing just out of my reach. Words spun around in my mind like dried jack leaves blowing in the breeze.

  “Her face. There’s just no getting around it.” Perera sir’s voice floated towards me.

  “What do you mean no getting around it? We can’t send a girl off to America looking like that. It’s no small scratch.”

  “She looks like she’s been ravaged by a wild animal.”

  “It’s worse than before. At least with Shanika it was just her arms.”

  “The adoption has to go through. No matter what. That is final.”

  I closed my eyes and let the breeze carry me too. People might have come and gone. Checking my eyes, spooning some kandha into my mouth. But these were all dreams from another life.

  The shadows on the wall were orange when I opened my eyes next. Sunset. How had I been sleeping for the whole day? There were still words, swimming in from outside the door. But my mind was a little clearer now. The ripples in the pond
stayed still for a moment.

  “You really must be more careful. After she attacked Shanika I thought we’d never get another chance. You know how strict those officers from the NCPA are. The orphanage would get shut down.” That was Miss Chandra. Definitely Miss Chandra. And she didn’t sound happy.

  “I do everything for these girls, do you hear me? Everything. How many men do you know who dedicate their lives to a cause like this? To servants who couldn’t keep their legs together in the Middle East. To women who leave their daughters with their abusive fathers on their search for work. This can’t get out. It would ruin me. Most people would call me a saint, you know?”

  “Most people would.”

  “Get that judgemental tone out of your voice, do you hear?”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Now tell that child that Shanika has been sent off to St. Margaret’s, and get everything ready for the Evanses.”

  So Shanika was sent away? But—but she wasn’t even the one who attacked me. I saw her go back inside.

  I closed my eyes and drifted off again.

  Miss Chandra was sitting next to my bed when I woke up next. She didn’t notice me at first. She was staring at a newspaper, her forehead wrinkled into deep furrows. She could have been reading it, but she seemed to be looking at the same place for a very long time.

  “M-Miss Chandra?”

  My voice jolted her.

  “Paloma, aney, child. You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

  “What time is it?” It was dark outside.

  “It’s late. Here, have some tea.”

  I sat up a little bit and took a sip. My cheek hurt, and the milk powder hadn’t been stirred in properly and I could see little white blobs bob around in the cup.