Prison Daze
Alex and Piper are barely awake but still they somehow manage to stumble into the same shower stall at 5am together. Alex yawns and fumbles, hitching Piper's leg over her hip as she slides her hand lightly against her pussy.
And so, Piper's first words of the day are, "Jesusfuckingchrist, why do those lesbian pulp novels romanticize prison sex?"
"I know right…wish we had a bed." Alex's voice is husky and quiet. She dips her head and kisses Piper's neck, sighing as those long fingers of Piper's reach their mark between her legs.
Later, many days later, Piper will speak with Larry. She'll choose Larry over Alex, convinced that somehow the Alex of old is alive and well and that Piper still can't keep up with her.
But the Alex of old left the minute those steel doors closed on her freedom. Neither woman knows it quite yet, but Alex can no longer entertain the same delusions of infallibility—of her own wits combined with unending connections. The connections are gone. Worse, she'll have to consider hiding out for a good long-ass while after she leaves this place. Maybe she'll dye her hair. Or cut it. At the very least, she'll have to use another name. And then what?
And when she leans into Piper—first in the shower, then again in the chapel an hour later—when she lets herself sink into the woman she's loved for so long, she has to admit that everything has changed.
It isn't just the end of the business, it's the end of her freedom. Even outside of prison, she won't be free. This realization is the worst. Whether it's true or not, it's an idea that won't go away.
"Fuck." Alex fumes. It's dinner time and the food is shit and she wishes to fucking hell that she could get out of this place and go for a fucking burrito. "Fuck…fuck…fuck…" She swears again and again, staring at her food, her eyes darkening against the brightness of the sun so far beyond them. The light streams into the room and warms them. It lies.
"Hey…Alex…babe…" Piper's hands cover her own. She reads the panic. She knows that look. It's the look of someone who desperately needs to breathe but can't. It's the look a trapped animal might have, just before it starts to gnaw at its own foot to escape.
When Alex's eyes meet her own finally, the darkness dissipates for a moment. The travel and champagne and stupid little luxuries may be far away, but maybe they'll come up with another idea.
In the meantime, this is all there is. This and only this. The prison is hell but it's also a second chance.
They're alive. For now, after all they've risked and lost, being alive will have to do.
2017
Piper hears a knock on her front door while she's in the shower one morning. She climbs out of her warm refuge, throws on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, and opens the door to find Alex leaning against the frame.
"Should I have called first?" The voice is deeper than normal.
Piper grins. "Did you just get up?"
Alex nods and saunters in. "I managed to sleep for two hours. Before that, I was up for two days and two nights straight. Painting lofts for this shitty little student deal. Funny, with the tattoos and glasses, I can still pass as a student. I told them that I had taken a semester off."
They keep their distance, each still unsure about the realities of their current situation and neither willing to rock the boat by asking.
"How goes your business plan?" Alex's eyes scan the apartment even as she asks. When she finally turns those icy blue eyes on Piper it silences the other woman momentarily.
"Oh, good. I think." Piper shifts closer, letting Alex's hand touch her shoulder lightly. "Are you hungry?"
"Mhmmm, let's order Thai for lunch." Out comes a pile of cash, held in the same neat clip Piper remembers. Of course it's a new clip and a new wad of money but still…she freaks.
"No, Alex, no!" The despair in her voice is a surprise to them both.
"Jesus, Pipes, this isn't money from drugs! Just other…things. I had friends who wanted out of the business, who would look at other options and run them by me. Teak furniture, nifty little sculptures made by birthing wasps, soap…" Alex trails off, embarrassed and blushing.
But Piper is already asking more questions. "Soap?" Her eyes narrow suspiciously. "And furniture?" At first, something doesn't fit, but Piper's mind quickly works to figure it out. Alex would have to use other people's names, mailing addresses. If she works on the delivery side of things, it might be all right. And Alex's old contacts include some amazing people. Artists and sculptors who dealt small amounts of drugs from time to time but nothing major.
"Soap is one thing. Which was what you and Polly were into, right?"
Silence. For some reason Piper's hands start to tremble. They're still scarred on the knuckles, some places more apparent than others.
"Piper? It's ok, trust me." Alex's hands cover hers and the trembling stops.
"How did you get so much money, all at once like that?" Piper looks at the wad of cash that Alex counts from.
"I sold art work to a closeted lesbian politician."
"I see." Now Piper arches an eyebrow.
"I didn't…" Alex sighs. "Ok, well, I mean, I did sleep with her. She was hot. Sort of. It didn't mean anything. Not like you have any right to ask."
"Hmmm…" Piper hums and nods and hands Alex the phone. "None of my business who you date."
"I'm not dating her. And you're being passive aggressive."
"No, I'm being jealous, there's a difference." Piper lets her voice lower. Her lips quirk upward and she practically bats her eyes. So fucking obvious, but it works.
For a second, it looks like Alex might jump across the couch at her. Instead, she just grins and lets her fingers trail over Piper's shoulder before taking the phone.
They talk about the job market over noodles and spicy tofu. It's a relief in some strange way, to just admit that it's all pretty shitty.
"You were right," Alex says around a mouthful of veggies. "I can't just get a job. And not because neither one of us can picture it, but because I fucking can't. With my record, no fucking way. No employer will take me. Except for small, menial jobs and even then, I'm scrutinized like nobody's business. This online shit is perfect." She pokes around in a container and finds a sprig of broccoli.
"I've been living off of my parents for years." Piper admits with a shrug. She scowls. "Dammit, that sounds terrible."
The look Alex gives her is completely impossible to read. They eat in silence and Piper turns on her computer to watch a movie. After it's through—and they manage to rile each other up completely by sitting inches apart but making no moves to get any closer—Alex breathes out hard and says in a shaky voice,
"I should go. I mean…or…"
Or. What does or mean? Old traps. Though, Piper doesn't want to think of herself as a trap exactly. Just…old patterns. Right. She blinks in a haze as Alex leans close to brush her lips against Piper's cheek then practically leaps off the couch and rushes from the apartment.
Three days later, Alex calls and invites herself over again. She shows up in clothing that is completely covered in white paint spatters. Her hands are also covered and she looks exhausted.
"Whoda thunk it," Alex rolls her eyes and hands Piper a bag of Chinese food. "I'm painting the same kinds of places I used to party in. Live in."
That's the last straw. Piper sees a smear of paint on one of Alex's earlobes and it propels her even further. "I'm so fucking proud of you." And she is. Absurdly so. She leans and kisses Alex's cheek. Nuzzles her jaw briefly and pulls back as quick as she can. "You're doing great, Alex."
This time, Alex stays long after they eat. It's late into the night when Piper glances away from her computer to see her former girlfriend reading by the window. She fiddles with the music on her computer and chooses something quiet. The Stampeders. Cheesy, but Carry Me reminds her of the time they drove thirteen straight hours through Vermont. The song makes Alex smile.
Piper is inspired to write a paragraph about the ecology of hope. She doesn't know why, but the phrase is stuck in her head suddenly, from somewhere, and she decides to relate it to the experience of incarceration. To resilience. To women creating family wherever they are. Maybe, she figures, she can relate it to her new plan—to sell therapeutic bath and body care products in old age homes and hospitals. The words rush toward a re-telling of her time with Red in those first weeks of prison.
When she's done, she springs back from her computer, bare feet sliding on the floor, and exclaims out loud.
"What?" Alex calls out softly.
"I'm just…I'm writing my own story now." Piper's voice tightens around a sudden lump in her throat.
"That's good, Pipes." Now Alex is behind her chair, her hands on Piper's shoulders. She kisses the top of her head and inhales sharply. "You sound better already."
2004
Meeting Alex's mom was sort of terrifying, until Piper made herself useful. She put a pot of tea on and shooed Alex outside to sit on the balcony with the older woman. It was 10am, that first and last day, but still Alex breezed back into the kitchen against orders, grabbed the martini shaker from the top of the cupboards, and started throwing together two extra dry shaken gin concoctions with extra olives in both.
Her mother smoked and chattered on about Alex's amazing accomplishments—thinking that she imported rich shit from Europe (that was her general sense from the sounds of it). And Alex just beamed as she handed her a martini. They snickerd about the people on the street below and her mom told her how awesome she was, again and again. Piper could see Alex light up from deep within.
Alex's mom was wary of her though. Piper just looked down at her mug of tea and smiled sweetly, ignoring the rising dread, like a headache in her third eye or something new age-y like that.
The problem was that she could totally see herself walking away from Alex. Not because she wasn't crazy about her, it was just some weird instinct.
That night, Piper and Alex slept together in the small, cramped guest room and Piper's dreams were terrible. In every one of them, she snuck out, only to run into Alex's mother in the hallway.
They were already packed and so they left from the small townhouse to go to Bali the next morning.
In Bali, Alex treated her to a suite with a giant hot tub. They fucked in every conceivable position in that tub. Piper was particular fond, years later, of the memory of being bent over while Alex licked her everywhere from behind. She actually used the memory as inspiration during masturbation when she couldn't get to sleep. Once, she even sorted through the memory while fucking another person. It wasn't her best moment but it worked with a particularly bad lover.
They fucked a lot on that trip in fact. Alex wanted her naked often. She pressed her to the floor, to the bed, to the sandy beach outside in a small secluded spot. When Piper wanted time to herself, time to read or even just talk with other people, Alex just drew her closer.
And there were early glimmers of something, some anxiety in Piper. Deep down. That she'd end up fighting for her autonomy in the relationship. That Alex was a tsunami she had to stand strong against if she was going to maintain her own identity.
