CHAPTER II : How Lucky

People spend a lot of time dissecting the moments that changed them. Picking them apart like old evidence. Looking for answers that somehow make the outcome easier to accept. Persephonè had not developed that habit yet. At seventeen, she was still remarkably talented at moving on. Letting things slide off her shoulders before they could take root. It wasn't wisdom. It wasn't healing. It was probably just young naivety. She was standing on the edge of that brief period in life where you know just enough to feel independent, but not enough to recognize danger when it arrives wearing a smile.

Sometime during late high school, Persephone's parents bought a small gas station in the middle of the countryside. Persephone thought her parents had lost their minds. The place looked like a tiny adobe hut stranded between cornfields and lake houses. It was the sort of building that made you wonder whether you were about to buy gas or become the opening scene of a horror movie. What she soon realized was this little mart sat quietly at the center of dozens of country roads, becoming the place where scattered communities naturally crossed paths. For a girl who had spent most of her life inside one small corner of the world, it was fascinating.

Customer service came naturally to Persephonè. She remembered people. Would pump their gas, especially if they were elderly. Carry out their groceries. Just because it felt right. Katrina, on the other hand, had little patience for others and a knack for being sour. It didn't take long for the whole community to adjust to Katrina, almost like they had held a secret town meeting somewhere. When Persephone worked, the mart became a gathering place. People lingered to gossip and catch up. Coffee cups multiplied. Conversations flowed freely. It felt like a modern day Mayberry. When Katrina worked, the parking lot was noticeably quieter. Even the sales ledger reflected it.

Persephonè was able to prioritize and manage time in a way that was far more mature than most her age. She worked the mart full time through the remainder of high school, taking on all the weekend and night shifts. Sometimes working doubles so her mother could have a break. She did this all while maintaining honor roll status and participating in sports.

She shone in her new role. There was something liberating about having your parents as your boss. Work was more like a home away from home. Instead of trying to mold herself into a stranger's expectations in fear of getting fired, she could just be herself. This freedom in particular was what Persephone always felt had taught her the most about human interaction. One moment in particular would stay with her forever. A story of a grumpy old man, unkempt, with a slight odor of hard work and lost time. When he came in, he would throw his stuff on the counter, slap his checkbook down, and demand that whoever was working fill it out. No gratitude. Persephone always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just having a bad day...all the time. She took it as a challenge. Maybe her niceness could soften him. Katrina on the other hand, made sure he felt her disdain. Eventually, when Persephone started to become frustrated too, because her kindness wasn't working, her mother pulled both sisters aside

"why do you think he acts that way?" she asked them

Persephone had no clue. Katrina had all sorts of angry reasons.

 "No" her mother said softly. "You're looking at his behavior. Try looking underneath it." and waited for them to think it through. An explanation came that neither of them had considered. The man couldn't read or write. His actions were simply the defense mechanism of a man trying to survive in a world that passed him by. He probably struggled daily his whole life with shame, embarrassment, not knowing how to ask for help. This deeply saddened Persephone to her core. Nobody should have to live that way. She wanted to cry. Katrina, unfazed by the revelation, continued to treat him poorly. Moments like these made the space between the sisters grow.

Persephonè's life was pretty full, which she liked. She had no time to notice the boys that had taken an interest in her. Compliments bounced off her because she couldn't imagine they were true. Criticism, on the other hand, always seemed to find a place to land. Because of this, most boys barely registered on her radar. Mitch though, was harder to ignore. Persistent. He had a slight bad boy image too. He was older. A drop out. He was not from her slice of the world. It made him seem more exotic in a way. And he had a motorcycle. Despite seeming like a tacky cliché, he made her feel special.

Mitch's casual visits to the mart to see Persephonè quickly turned into constant hangouts. People could no longer go to chat with the local mart girl without Mitch being part of it now. Gossip spread like wildfire. Her mother tried to intervene, but it only pushed Persephone closer to him. She was tired of the home ecosystem. She was at that edge of unknowing. At seventeen, she mistook constant attention for devotion. At one point he walked several miles just to spend an afternoon sitting in the mart while she worked. Katrina took notice too. She started to occasionally insert herself into conversations, laughing a little louder than necessary. Mitch understood the sisters far quicker than Persephonè realized. He made adjustments too.

It wasn't long before Persephone and Mitch were officially dating. It was easy to become addicted to having someone so attentive to your every move, every detail of your life. He introduced her to his world. His world felt like a secret club and the only way to gain admission was to date someone who was already a member. Their beliefs were strict. Long hair. Modest clothing. No jewelry. No television. The rules seemed to land hardest on women. It wasn't the rules that drew Persephonè in, though. It was the stability. To a girl who valued loyalty and connection, it was safe. On the surface, they seemed to fit naturally together. They both loved sports, music, and movie nights. She mistook shared interests for shared values. But Mitch had attached himself to Persephone's life like an anchor. Anchors sound supportive until you realize they're designed to keep things from moving. Worse yet, this one was chained directly to her. Whenever he made waves on the surface of her life, she was the one pulled underwater. One day, Mitch informed her that all the boys wanted her sister, Katrina. Apparently, a larger bra size made her the prettier, more desirable sister. But not Mitch. He was the only one that had chosen Persephone. He delivered this as a compliment. She should be grateful.

How lucky.