The events after Larry's radio show originated her second internal avalanche, so to speak. Just before tuning in, her immediate concern had been if Alex would be okay to listen to this with her, which she'd appeared to be, and then Piper had scrambled for her imaginary remote control, with her mind still slow-working after the moment of connection they'd just shared. It hadn't been that easy to change the channel this time. Then, the actual show had started, and the way in which Larry had recounted the tidbits about the other inmates Piper had given him during his visitations had made her cringe. He had skimmed through the surface with very little understanding, and called them "cast of characters". Those women were definitely not a bunch of facetious, singled-out traits; they were very, very real. And, after the initial offense -because Larry had made them into characters just like he'd made her into someone else in his famous article-, Piper had worried about how some of them would react. She'd hoped no one would try to prove to her how real they were.
She nevertheless forgot all about that a minute later, when he spoke about betrayal, about having someone in there with her who could have a better understanding of what she was going through. He knew about her and Alex. Somehow, he knew, and Piper suddenly understood why Larry hadn't been answering her calls - something which, honestly, had just pushed her more in the dark-haired woman's direction. She felt as if the ground had opened up under her feet and she was being sucked into an endless tunnel. No. No. As the earphone plopped out of her ear, the off-putting, ever-present noises of the place leaked in once more. She needed to stop this, and believed she could, if only because she had to.
Everyone's eyes were on her in the cafeteria, whether it was to glare at her or whisper about her. It seemed important not to lose her poker face and not rush to her table, where Alex, Nichols, and Morello were saving her a seat. The brunette briefly placed a hand on her shoulder, a sort of "You're okay" gesture, which was all she could do to make it better, but then Miss Claudette rushed in, whom Piper had never seen so upset, and she didn't know what to tell her to fix it. What could she say, that it was a thing of the past? She had indeed been afraid of her, but a person could get used to anything - over time, one could even put it out of one's mind it, become bunk buddies, and forget about how she had blabbered her first impressions. Unable to keep up with everything that was happening, she was lost for words, but still needed to talk to Larry. This time, when she lifted the phone and dialed, her call was accepted.
Of course he went straight to asking about sex, if she had slept with Alex, and if she was still doing it. Piper could only admit the truth and, for a second, she had to distance herself from what was happening because it was just too surreal, and because the barriers separating the different currents of her life were now taking in water, so that Larry's words were now echoing through the walls of the prison and Piper's actions in prison had somehow gotten to Larry - "somehow" meaning that bastard Healy.
Piper narrowed her eyes, wondering if he actually understood the repercussions of what he'd done. "So this is your revenge? Trying to get me killed?"
"Wait, wait, so… so you're the victim in all of this?"
"They're just people, Larry. They're just women who are trying to do their best, and you made them sound like… like they were…"
"Criminals?"
"Jesus! Who are you?" As if the actual distance between them wasn't enough, it now felt as if they were yelling at each other in different languages, trying to get their messages across a widening gap. She could hear the intermittent noises of the city on the other side of the phone, the traffic, the piteous honking, and they appeared otherworldly to her, nothing like the gentler but constant buzz of the prison.
Larry barked out a sarcastic laugh. "Can't believe- You're, you're the one asking me that right now? I-I can't believe that… No, actually, actually, actually of course I can. I totally can, because, because God forbid I would get to dictate the conversation… ever."
That made her furious, because he just couldn't understand, could he, how the external silence affected someone who was behind bars. What else did they really have to go on? He also seemed incapable of understanding the opposite: the magnified effects of any piece of information that did get leaked inside the prison. She had done a really shitty thing, yes, but it wasn't that incomprehensible, was it? And it didn't automatically absolve him, so she barked back.
"There hasn't been any conversation to dictate, Larry! You haven't picked up the phone in over a week! Do you have any idea what it has been like in here for me? Do you have any idea how lonely I've been?"
"Lonely! Lonely, really, you- you've been lonely, huh? That's… okay, that's interesting because, you know, I just assumed you were okay because you have Alex now!" There was a pause. "Do you love her?"
Which was the main issue to elucidate here, wasn't it? Before sleeping with Alex, during a previous conversation with Larry at a particularly depressing moment, she recalled asking him whether he considered her a narcissist or a horse's ass - things Alex had called her while stuck in the dryer. He had said "Of course not", but he had been the one who had written an article about someone who was supposed to be her but didn't feel like her, and then she hadn't been able to open the dryer, being forced to listen to Alex spewing out her own versions. She had gravitated back to the brunette after that phone call, of course, because she was there, and because it had felt like Alex could actually open her up effortlessly and see what was inside, and tell her about it. Because she didn't know anymore. She had embodied by choice what once had been her costume until it stopped being a disguise, until it became her life, an unequivocally safe life, devoid of ugly surprises, because that life she could control… or maybe not. It had come to a point where she couldn't tell if this was her or if she had been compromised by the conditions of her new habitat.
Those were unspeakable things she couldn't fully express, so her first reaction was to try to get out of that situation.
"No, that's… it's… it's… It's difficult…" Piper muttered, struggling to express that it wasn't like that, no, that it was… What was it? Survival, yes. But those words could only come from someone with their shit together, and she most definitely did not have her shit together. Oh, to be an evil fuck-monster… that would've been so much easier; that wouldn't have hurt so much.
"Do you love her?" he asked again, his voice high-pitched with distress.
Sex numbed the pain, obviously, but it certainly wouldn't have happened without a previous spark, and sex brought something else apart from plain, placid contentment; it brought out other things, old things, things that used to be habits, things so well engrained on the back on her mind and on the back of her heart that they functioned like instincts. It brought out new things as well, which was scarier, and which made themselves at home with dangerous ease. She knew what that instinct was, that thing which couldn't be reasoned with because it was too determined and too primal for words.
"Yes," she answered, listening to Larry's distraught breathing, and choking up herself.
With neither of them attempting to close that breach between them, silence took over. Piper didn't know what to say - not that there was anything she could say. Then, out of nowhere, came Larry's voice, so full of spite that it was practically unrecognizable.
"She named you, you know."
The entire world seemed to screech to a halt during several seconds, even Piper herself, with her mouth open and a tear hanging from her eyelashes. In the center of her mind, which was barely active, stood a big, terrible "Why?" blinking like a red alert.
"She's the whole fucking reason you're in there," Larry went on. "How does it feel, to be in love with the woman who ruined our lives?"
"You gotta let me fix this," she said, after he told her that he needed some time away from her, which would've been laughable if it had been a joke. She was thinking in terms of time and borders, of how buying herself a little time would build a little fence - a short barrier of safety in which she'd be able to catch her breath and figure out what to do.
"I don't know if you can," he responded, and ended the call, leaving her with all the time in the world and making her feel more imprisoned than ever.
So Alex had lied to her, and Larry had also lied, and yet Piper sensed this pressure about her, coming at her from every front, commanding her to do what was right - but what was right, and how could she choose, if nobody was willing to tell her the goddamn truth?
Apparently, the right thing didn't matter one bit, not in the scheme of things… There was no scheme of things and, as far as she was concerned, there was no right thing either. She had tried and she had just ended up being shunned, which was roughly the same result as when she had cheated and wronged. So, no difference, really. Hadn't she already discovered that during her revealing visit to the SHU?
There was no use in getting furious either. To the brunette's surprise, Piper had barely skimmed through her big secret -that she had indeed named her after all- and, even though she could've easily kept quiet about it, she'd just wanted Alex to know that she knew. But of course, Alex couldn't let things be; she had never been able to do that. She would only be satisfied once she'd managed to force Piper into acknowledgement. That was how it used to work in the past and how the brunette was trying to play things now.
She had tried to smile and keep her voice level while Alex had teased her, trying to provoke her like she'd always done, with her hands, with her voice, with her lips so close to her ear, but when squirming away from her touch and gently pushing her away hadn't worked, Piper snapped. Like a torn cable that would start sputtering out hot sparks if someone touched her, she attacked, no longer keeping her anger safe, enclosed, and separate. It broke through every barrier and flooded her insides until the real question came out, a question surprisingly devoid of fury and full of hurt, because their story had taken place a very long time ago and yet Alex hadn't wished to let her live her life - the nice, simple, and safe life she had managed to construct away from that black-haired woman and her alluring danger.
"Why did you do it?"
And how on earth was she supposed to reconcile the rancor of feeling cheated, of knowing that she would have evaded prison if Alex hadn't given her up, with the completely infuriating -and yet inevitable- feeling of love running through her veins like a torrent?
