It should feel a little strange just how effortless it is for Piper to lie, to take the truth and comfortably hide it within the confines of her mind, to do just what is expected of her and yet still manage to break every rule she is supposed to honor and obey.
But she slides this iron over Larry's shirts, steam drifting up and over her face, and she listens for the timer to go off by the stove, letting her know that the casserole for the weekend is done, and she is the perfect wife – dutiful, attentive, and so very congenial – and so Piper Bloom has nothing to feel ashamed of.
Piper Chapman, however, is a flustered mess of a girl.
And if the iron stays on that white cotton for too long, once or twice, and if that casserole cooks a bit longer than it should, edges a touch too brown... well, that's because Piper Chapman is not the perfect wife at all.
A perfect wife wouldn't cheat on her husband.
A perfect wife wouldn't want to keep on cheating.
A perfect wife wouldn't be falling apart like this.
Falling apart in-between the grocery shopping and the visit from her mother, falling apart as she walks from the closet to the dresser and then downstairs, falling apart because Alex Vause is so near and all Piper wants to do is run to the other woman, all Piper wants is Alex...
But she stays away, at least for today, and she irons and she cooks and she shops and she listens to her mother prattle on and on and she tries her best to focus, she tries her best to be perfect, she tries her best to be Piper Bloom, but all the while-
she is sobering up rather quickly but she isn't stopping and that's a problem, that's a huge problem, but Alex's hands are smooth and warm and so sure, sure and confident and Alex hasn't been alone all this time, Alex knows things and she is sharing them, she is tattooing them onto Piper's skin and each touch bestowed causes Piper to moan and the sound echoes around this room, wanton and needy, and then Alex is everywhere, breasts to stomach to thighs, and yet Piper aches for more, begs for more, and they aren't silly, stupid teenagers anymore and it shows when Alex moves inside of her, when she knows just where to press and just when to go faster, and it shows when Piper pulls the woman closer, when she rolls her hips upward, seeking without thinking, just feeling, just feeling all of this and never wanting it to end
-she is falling apart, crumbling under the weight of a love that never ceased to be, and a perfect wife would probably know just what to do but Piper Chapman is as lost as ever.
/ /
The bits and baubles of what was once a home are all that is left now, but neither one of them seem to be in any kind of hurry to pack these little things up and away.
Alex turns on the radio, waiting for a good song to start playing, and then she is beckoning Piper over with a flutter of her fingertips. And they smile at each other, like this is their every day, like they are truly together, and Alex's arms go around Piper's waist and then they are swaying from side to side, barely dancing as their eyes meet and do not stray, as they remain steadfast in their silence instead of talking about the inevitable:
Alex will be leaving tomorrow.
That's the reality that Piper has no words for, that's the truth that Piper cannot comprehend, and so she is shoving it down, she is pretending with all her might and she could make this illusion work, she knows she could, but Alex's stare is full of affection, full of longing, and so everything that Piper is trying to convince herself of simply shatters.
And they aren't dancing anymore, they are just standing still as Alex tightens her hold and as Piper cries.
"Stay with me tonight..."
And what Alex is suggesting is such a bad idea, worse than a bottle of wine and of love hastily made, and Piper thinks of Larry – arriving to an empty house, his clear-eyed gaze turning cloudy with worry – and Piper thinks of her whispering neighbors, of her proud parents...
...Piper thinks of Danny, of his face the night that he saw Piper and Alex kissing, of the disgust that colored his words and of the anger that seemed to make his whole body shake...
"...please?"
...and Piper thinks about another day, so very long ago, when Alex looked at her like she is right now - wanting to believe that they've got all the time in the world when they both know better – and Piper doesn't know how to stop these tears from falling, how to stop her heart from breaking, and Piper doesn't know how to be stronger, how to be braver...
Piper doesn't know how to keep Alex Vause and not lose everyone else.
"I can't, Alex... I can't..."
But Alex already knew the answer that Piper would give, same as it was in years gone by, and Piper makes herself watch as the woman that she loves nods her head, resigned to this fate, and then Alex steps away with her gaze trained on the floor.
"Right. It was ridiculous of me to ask."
"I would, Alex, god knows I would stay with you if-"
"I know, Piper, okay? I get it, it's over now and that's that."
The Alex that Piper left behind in that school restroom was quiet and solemn in her acceptance, but this Alex wears her hurt like a shield and so her voice becomes hard, becomes cold and removed, and Piper hates the sound of it.
Piper hates so much, though – this distance between them now, the fact that time just won't stop, a wedding ring like a noose around her neck – but Piper thinks that she hates herself most of all because she is the one walking away once more.
She is the one sobbing but still stumbling out the door, she is the one gripping the steering wheel – white-knuckled in her misery – but her foot doesn't leave the gas pedal, she is the one with the image of Alex's stony expression stuck in her head even as she makes her way back to that house and to that husband and to that life she never, ever wanted.
And Piper Bloom has it easy, all cookie-cutter fine and content, but Piper Chapman looks at herself in the mirror and she sees the cracks, she sees all the places where she is broken and there's no one around to put her back together again.
/ /
The dreams start a week or so later, always the same scenarios playing out behind Piper's eyelids – Alex's lips wonderfully firm upon her own, Alex begging her not to leave, Alex disappearing even as Piper tries to hold onto her – and so sleep becomes a restless sort-of thing, more fitful than satisfying, and every morning is more of a burden than a release these days.
And she tries to hide it all away, to bury it all like she did before, and goodness knows she hopes and prays for this plan to work, but she knows it isn't working when Larry rubs her back sympathetically and asks if she's okay, as he slides the pad of his thumb under one of her eyes, commenting on the slight darkness to be found there.
"I'm fine, I really am."
"You just don't seem like yourself..."
And Piper thinks she might be losing her mind a little bit because she has to swallow down a laugh, a rueful chuckle built of bitter bones... because who is Piper anyway?
A wife? A philanderer? A little girl lost? All of the above?
And whoever Larry thinks he knows, well, that woman is only a part of the whole and not even that true of a piece; that woman is a mask, donned to save herself and to spare her family pain, to be the good girl no matter the cost.
But Piper isn't a good girl, she's just good at playing the part.
And her smile is tired but she turns it on nonetheless and her body feels so listless but she makes it move – to cup Larry's cheek, to kiss him and make him believe that she is okay, that everything is okay – and the words repeat inside of her brain, over and over, as she pleads for them to become real...
...everything is okay, everything is okay, everything is okay...
/ /
The trick to living in a world of make-believe is to let go of whatever could have been, to buy into the fragile notions and the falsehoods with all your heart. And Piper has been a master of this game for so long, willing and able at every turn, and so as another month comes to an end, she steps further and further away from what happened - away from stolen kisses, away from secret touches, and away from Alex Vause.
Another element of this game is to not let those thoughts return, to trample them before they bowl you over, and so Piper doesn't pass by that house – not ever – and she doesn't listen to any of those songs, scratched and nicked albums left to gather dust in the garage, and if this method of avoidance doesn't work, then she pours herself into a project, like the church social or Polly's baby shower.
The trick is to make yourself believe that you've forgotten and then, one day, it'll seem as though you have.
And Piper would have gotten to that 'one day' eventually – she's done it before, after all - but there's a white envelope in her hand, black ink pressed into the surface with determination, and it's from somewhere in California, from somewhere close to San Francisco.
It's a letter from Alex and Piper's knees buckle until she sinks to the living room floor and she should throw this letter away, unopened and unread, and she should ignore it, pretend that it never arrived because that's the trick to keeping this life of hers intact, isn't it?
But that 'one day' seems very far from her grasp as her thumb peels back the paper, as her nervous fingers unfold this singular page, as her eyes devour each and every word-
. . .
Piper,
My mother used to tell me that the problem with taking a risk is that it's just that – a risk. And you never know where you might land, on your feet if you're lucky or on your head if you're not, but what's life without taking a chance once in a while, right? That's what she used to say to me, all the damn time.
And I've been mad at you for weeks now, mad at you for ending things with me – again – and I certainly didn't think I would be writing anything at all to you but I get it now, okay?
You'd be taking a risk, to be with me, and I've not given you a reason to do so. I mean, not really. I walked away, too, back then, and I didn't stick around to fight for us. I didn't stick around at all, I just ran as fast as I could, and maybe I've been running ever since that day but I don't want to run anymore.
Piper Chapman, I love you. I've loved you for so long, it's like you're a part of me, and I can't promise you a simple life, I can't promise that your parents won't disown you, I can't promise you anything other than the fact that I love you and I'll go on loving you for as long as I can and I want you to be with me. I want you here, in my arms, in my bed, in my world, and it'll be a risk – for the both of us – but my mother was right, you know...
Life isn't worth much if you aren't willing to take a chance or two and I'm willing to take a million chances on you, Pipes. I'm willing and I hope to god you are, too.
I'd say write me back but, better yet, come find me. You have the address now.
A.V.
. . .
-and there are no tricks left now that can save Piper, not with Alex's letter pressed hard against her chest, and so she watches as this kingdom of lies comes tumbling down around her – one by one, once and for all.
/ /
[tbc]
