Page 113 of The Persistence of Thornes
“Stop apologizing for shit that’s not within your control.”
Quinn and Casen snicker in the back. Even if I can’t get her to lighten up, it’s good to hear the sound from them. As soon as we got in the car, Halle began chatting anxiously, and from the worried looks they keep giving one another and me, they’re concerned about her.
I had to pull a few strings to schedule a visitation with their mom on such short notice. Honestly, I was hoping my request would be denied for Halle’s sake, but she’d never tell her brothers no in a situation like this. She’s selfless like that.
Since we have time to kill before their visitation, the boys suggested that Halle show me around.
“That’s where I went to high school.” Halle points to a building that looks more like a bunker than a school. “And that’s where I worked after school.”
I take in the hole-in-the-wall diner, trying to picture Halle behind its doors working.
“Were you a waitress?”
“Yep. And after I graduated, I waited tables at…” She grows silent, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“At?” I prompt, scrutinizing her apprehensive expression.
“Atthesapphirelounge,” she whispers.
“I’m going to need you to repeat that,” I laugh. There’s no way I can separate the words she just slurred together.
“The Sapphire Lounge,” she says, clearer this time, though her voice is still low.
Before I can ask her about the place, Casen flings himself forward, his head between our seats. “Oh my God, you were a stripper?”
“What?” Halle shouts to the rearview mirror. “No. I waited tables there.”
“What was the dress code? A bikini top and thong?” This from Quinn. “Wait.” He shakes his head. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”
“No!” she shrieks. “A crop top and skirt or shorts. I wear less to the beach. Calm down.”
“If you had been a dancer, there’s nothing wrong with that,” I say, tapping my fingers on my leg.
“I wasjusta waitress. The owner asked me constantly, but it wasn’t for me. I respect the hell out of the girls who could get out there and do it, though. My tips weren’t bad, but they made bank.”
“We didn’t know you worked there,” Casen says, his tone dripping with accusation.
Halle narrows her eyes at him in the mirror. “Are you already forgetting your reaction from five seconds ago? Why do you think I didn’t tell you? Besides, you were too young to know.”
“What other secrets are you keeping from us?” Quinn asks, the words full of annoyance. “Anything we should know?”
Halle sighs, her grip on the wheel tightening, making the material creak. “No, nothing.”
She turns off the main road and onto a side street,breathing deeply. A few turns later, she says, “This is where I lived until I was ten.”
The townhouse is small and run-down, with crooked shutters and peeling paint.
“Do you see that black smudge there by the door?” Halle asks, slowing in front of the home.
I squint out the passenger window. “The blob that sort of looks like a heart?”
“Yes.” She laughs quietly. “I was five when I did that. I was mad at my mom for ignoring me after she promised to paint with me, so I made that spot. I don’t think she ever even noticed it, but it made me feel better.”
From there she drives from one apartment complex to the next, pointing out all the places they lived in over the years. From my count, she moved more than once a year after her mom lost the townhouse. My parents have lived in the same house since before I was born. I can’t imagine having to be uprooted so often.
It makes sense now, even with as rundown as the house is next door, that she bought it. She was looking for at least a small sense of stability.
As the visitation hour looms, Halle drives toward the prison in another town about twenty minutes north.
