Simplicities, Misunderstandings, and Unfortunate Timings

It would be simple to say that Alex Vause liked blue coffee mugs, black eyeliner, and being outside on warm, rainy nights. Yes, that would be simple.

However, it is far more difficult to say that Alex Vause only likes blue coffee mugs because her mother only ever owned blue coffee mugs and her mother's taste, if nothing else, was one of the few traits Alex decided to keep from her mother.

A coffee mug isn't just any old mug, her mother would say, it's not a tea mug or a slip-some-booze-into mug and pray-mom-won't-notice mug. Your coffee mug, at five in the morning, is your best fucking friend in the entire world. It's the only thing that's going to give you a kick in the pants in order to go to your first job and then pick up and drop off your kid before rushing to your second job and hoping to hell—that you've got enough left in you for jobs three and four.

"But why do all our coffee mugs have to be blue?" Alex asked her mom one morning.

"Because I fucking like blue. That's why. Now, grab your coat and let's go."

It would be an even larger misunderstanding to suggest that Alex Vause only wore black eyeliner because she liked the way it made her eyes look and brown eyeliner didn't do shit for her complexion. Yes, that would be an egregious mistake to make.

Alex Vause wore black eyeliner religiously due to the last time she saw her father. She was delivering him the last stamp bag he would see from her employer in a long time. She waited for over an hour, sitting on the curb, for the familiar black Trans Am to pull around the corner. She heard the dying beast before she smelled it and covered her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. She climbed into the car, not even waiting for it to come to a complete stop, and didn't bother with buckling her seatbelt.

"How've you been, kiddo?" her dad said, driving the car with his wrist lax against the top of the wheel.

"Fine," she sighed.

"Business is good?"

"Business is great, actually," she said, glancing at him. He looked rough, even more than usual with his sallow skin and the purple bruises that were forming around his right eye. "I've been promoted."

"No shit," he grinned. "You're moving kids now?"

"Yeah," she managed a smile. "I've got a few kids."
"Treatin' 'em well?"
"Yeah, totally. I mean, I know firsthand that this gig alone sucks, but I figure cash upfront for treats can get me ahead in the game. "

"Smart move. Smart. You probably get that from your mom," he said. He glanced sideways at her. "How is she, these days, your mom? Deborah, right?"
"Diane. And she's fine," Alex frowned before getting down to business. She pulled the stamp out of her pocket and carelessly dropped it onto his thigh. He grabbed it, cursing.

"Damn it, Alex, why do you always have to throw the shit while I'm driving?"

"This car needs cup holders."
"This car is a classic."

"This car is trash," she snapped back, instantly regretting it. Her dad looked too tired to argue with her and they were silent as they drove around the block. Her dad tucked the stamp of heroin into his jean pocket. When they reached the curb at the corner, he slowed to a stop and put the car in park. They sat in silence before her dad finally looked at her.

"I like your eyes, kiddo," he murmured.

"My eyes?" she said, in disbelief.

"Black eyeliner is a trademark."

"A trademark?" she scoffed. "Tons of women wear it."

"Yeah, but you can tell by the way a woman wears it that they all have one thing in common."

"And what's that?" Alex said. Her dad gave her a true and rare grin that made his eyes twinkle.

"They don't have a problem telling the world to fuck off."

Alex smiled.

"Take care of yourself, kiddo. Tell Diane she raised you right. And don't you worry about me."
Alex nodded and climbed out of the car. Her dad drove off and she never saw, heard, or smelled that old Trans Am again.

It was unfortunate that the most heartbreaking moments of Alex Vause's life would occur during inclement weather, which was also, her favorite type of weather.

In the middle of her high school parking lot, Alex suffered the first heartbreak of her life with the blow delivered by Kim Jones. Kim Jones was the girl every guy wanted, the girl every other girl envied, and the girl that slipped into Alex Vause's bedroom every night just to see her. In hindsight, it was more than love. It was a victory for Alex. She had, for the first time in her life, something that couldn't be bought.

"I just—I don't know if I'm a lesbian, okay?" Kim said, wringing her bronzed fingers together as she stood underneath the illuminated street light.

"You don't need to know that right now. Or ever," Alex said. "All you need to know if you like me—love me—care about me—whatever you want to call it—

or not."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore, Alex," Kim whispered, pulling out her car keys from her pocket and fiddling with them.

"Please don't go," Alex begged. "Just—just come home with me and we can talk about it in a few days. No one has to know—I haven't said a fucking thing to anyone."

"You don't get it," Kim said, her shoulders slumped and her hand went up to her brown hair.

"Don't get what?" Alex's voice cracked. "That you can only date someone if they've got a dick?"

"I dunno. Maybe," she said, bowing her head. "It's… it's what I like. I've never been with another girl before. I don't know what it's supposed to feel like."

"You don't know what love should feel like?"

"I think we're too young to know what that's like," Kim said, finally looking at Alex. "I don't know," she turned her head. "Maybe—maybe I just don't know what I want—or I'm confused—or—or maybe I just haven't found the right person yet."

Alex felt as if a hand had gone through her chest and squeezed. She composed herself, blinking away tears behind her wire glasses before saying, "You're never going to find the right person, Kim. You're going to end up marrying the first wrong person you meet so long as they give you the right amount of attention. And you're going to be so miserable—oh, you'll be so miserable," she nearly smiled at the thought of it, "—that you'll do anything to forget about me."

Kim's full pouty lips quivered and she bit the inside of her mouth so much that it deflated her right cheek.

"But not even a stupid, straight girl like you," Alex spat, "will ever be able to get me out of your head. And you'll spend the rest of your life thinking about me. But I won't give a shit about you."

Kim whimpered, slipped into her car, and drove off without another word. Alex watched the red taillights fade into the dark when she felt the first drop of rain hit her nose. She walked home in the rain, a motif that was sure to follow her for the rest of her life.

It was unfortunate that the first time Alex had her heart broken by a straight girl, it rained; that it had rained at her mother's funeral; and that it rained when Alex found Piper in Litchfield prison, outside with her lunch tray. Yes, it was unfortunate that Alex loved rain and rain had crap timing.

So, it would be very simple to say that Alex Vause like blue coffee mugs, black eyeliner, and being outside in the rain. But it would also be unquestionably stupid to believe that simplicities are anything but.