Persephone Sherman's Questionnaire

Currently, I live in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, which is just north of Providence. I was born here, and my father stayed here after he and my mom split and he got custody. When I wasn’t able to make it at the University of Rhode Island, there was no reason for me to stay in Kingston—the rents are astronomical, because the landlords know they can over-charge the students—and I moved back in with my Dad.

I’m looking to relocate, though. Pawtucket is nice, don’t get me wrong, but…I know too many people here. Too many people I don’t really want to spend the rest of my life knowing. Pawtucket might as well be called Peyton Place, it’s so parochial. I’m just not sure where else I would go, though. The City is big enough to get lost in, but I feel like that’s what everyone does, try to escape from their small towns to a place where the rent is even higher than in Kingston, and for what, exactly? I won’t be able to get a high-power job, or anything, I couldn’t even get my degree.

I dunno, I’ll figure something out. I just can’t stay here, that much I know.

I mean, I have a high school diploma. What do you think I do? I work at the Stop and Shop as a cashier. It’s actually not the worst job, I make $14.12 an hour, which is better than I would be doing elsewhere. The only problem is that it’s public facing, so some people who never fucking grew up past high school think it’s hilarious to come and fuck with me while I’m working.

I live with my Dad right now, and he doesn’t charge me rent or anything, so luckily, except for gas, I’m saving most of what I make. He knows I want to leave this town, and he’s helping me get what I need to get started on my own.

I don’t want to talk about it.

Why does everyone always want to focus on the negative? Isn’t it enough that people have to live through it in the first place? Why do we as a society always say, “hey, this worst thing that’s ever happened to you, we want you to re-live it, over and over and over again, just so we can pretend to understand what kind of person you are.” That’s crock. People should just be able to, like, tell you what their favorite flower is, or their favorite TV show or something.

But noooo, instead it’s all, “Think back to the literal worst day of your life, now tell us in excruciating detail, we think that will “help” you.

Gimme a break.

My Dad. Dennis Sherman. He’s a really good guy, works hard, he’s always done right by me. Even when everything that happened happened, he stood by me. Let me move back home, doesn’t charge me a single dime in rent, so I can save up to get out of this town. He works for Hasbro, runs focus groups for parents, to see what kind of toys they want for their kids, since god knows they can’t trust kids to know what they want any more.

Man, aside from my Dad? Shit. I guess my boss, Olivia. When I was looking for work, I was desperate,  because even the people who didn’t know me knew of me, and nobody wanted their place associated. But she just asked me why. Not even judging, just wanted the reason. Then asked why I was back in town. When I told her I wanted the job so I could save up money and get out of here, she told me she thought I did the right thing—even my Dad didn’t go that far—and gave me the night shift job, both so I wouldn’t have to deal with as many people, and so I could make the shift differential. I wouldn’t say we’re friends or anything, we don’t hang out or anything, but she’s solid. I think she wants to get out too, but feels trapped now, maybe? I dunno.

um, I guess for the third, probably Brutus, my tarantula. He’s who I probably spend the most time with.