We arrive at the cabin in St. George just before lunchtime, and no sooner does Alex park the car than three of her friends rush out to greet her. They all hug and kiss each other on the cheek, and for a moment, I feel like an intruder.
Alex doesn't allow my discomfort to sit for long. "This is Piper," she announces with a smile, walking around the front of the car and taking my hand.
I wave. "Hi."
"So she is hot," a woman with wild reddish-blonde hair states. "We figured you wouldn't have braved the snowstorm with just anybody."
Alex nudges her glasses, avoiding the knowing smirks among the three women. "The important thing is I'm here, right?"
"I'm Nicky, the birthday girl," the red head says again with a perfunctory wave. "Welcome to our cabin in the woods."
"I'm Lorna. Merry Christmas!" A shorter woman hugs me as if she's known me her entire life. "I'm so glad you're here."
I'm a little confused as to how much Alex has filled her friends in on me. "Thank you."
"What's up? I'm Poussey." She fist-bumps me. "Sylvie's inside, but she's kinda got this weird thing with Alex, so…"
I clench my jaw and look at Alex.
"It'll be fine," she says, moving to the back of the car. "Is she really sulking in there?"
"I wouldn't call it sulking," Nicky responds, lifting one of the suitcases. "She's just being her immature self. You know the drill. Oh, and she's leaving later today. After she found out you were bringing your 'traveling companion'," Nicky uses air quotes. "She booked a flight home."
"Good," Alex responds.
I grab my suitcase.
"Let me help you with that," Lorna says in a thick Brooklyn accent. "I'll show you to your room." She turns to Alex. "I'm assuming you're sharing a room?"
Alex grins, shuts the hatchback and walks with Poussey and Nicky towards the house.
The cabin is as rustic as I imagined it would be, and although the furniture is dated, there's a huge living room with a beautiful view of the pond and a fireplace that's begging to be lit.
"Sylvie, this is Piper, Alex's new girlfriend," Lorna introduces.
"No, no, no," I quickly correct her with a wave of my hand. "I'm her travel companion, not her girlfriend." I don't know if this woman is psycho, so I certainly don't want her to target me. Also, Alex and I slept together last night, but we're far from girlfriends.
"She's going to dump you when someone better comes along," Sylvie says from her spot on the sofa.
"I'm glad that introduction is over." Lorna puts her hands on my shoulders and pushes me down a hallway. "This is Nicky's and my room, that's Poussey and Sylvie's room with the bunk beds, and this will be your room with Alex."
The room, like the rest of the house, has traditional log cabin walls and matching hardwood floors. There's a double bed with a thick quilt under the A-frame and a small window above the desk. It's not nearly as luxurious as the inn where we stayed last night, but it's worlds better than the motel.
"The ceiling slopes over the bed, so be careful you don't hit your head," she advises. "None of us wanted this room because of that, but I'm sure it'll be perfectly comfortable."
"Thanks." I set my suitcase on the wooden chair.
"It's cold outside, but the cabin stays nice and toasty." Lorna twists the blinds open, providing more light inside the otherwise dark room. "You have your own thermostat if you get too hot or cold."
I smile.
"Personally, I'm a hot sleeper, so I like to keep it on 65 degrees, but Nicky is a cold sleeper, so she wants it on 70," she continues with a shrug. "What are you gonna do?"
She doesn't appear to be leaving anytime soon, so I make small talk. "How do you all know each other?"
"Prison," she states plainly.
My eyes shoot open and I stop mid-air with a t-shirt in hand to confirm what I just heard. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
"We were all in prison together," she repeats. "Didn't Alex tell you?"
Alex breezes in with relaxed smile, clearly having no idea what Lorna has just revealed. "Didn't I tell her what?"
"You didn't tell her you were in prison?" Lorna asks sheepishly.
Alex dips her head and sighs. She glances at me, and I'm sure the shock is evident on my face. "Could you give us a minute?"
"Of course." Lorna ducks out, closing the door behind her, mumbling sorry.
"I must've misunderstood." I drop the t-shirt to the ground. "You were in prison?"
Her eyes are still downcast. "It was a long time ago."
I'm paralyzed. "How long ago?"
She crosses her arms. "Seven years. Coincidentally, I was also in for seven years."
"Holy shit, Alex!" I shake my head vigorously. "What did you do?"
"I worked for an international drug cartel," she admits without any inflection in her voice. "I was sentenced to eight years at Litchfield Federal Penitentiary and got out on good behavior after six years, 203 days."
"I…" My knees give out, so I sit on the chair, knocking over my suitcase. "Don't you think this is something you should've told me?"
"I didn't know when to bring it up." She shrugs.
"We've been in the car together and shared fucking hotel rooms over the last 48 hours!" I raise my voice. "There was plenty of time to bring it up…All we had was time!"
"Fine, I didn't want you to know." She puffs out a long, irritated breath. "That's a part of my life I choose not to think about. Yes, prison changed my life, and I met these amazing women at Litchfield, but it doesn't define who I am today."
I state the obvious if for no other reason than to process out loud. "You're a felon."
"I am," she admits raising her shoulders. "I was young, stupid and hungry for money." She stands in front of me, unfolding her arms. "The reason I was a line cook was because no one else would hire me. It's damn near impossible to get a job with a criminal record."
I blink up at her.
"I got the job I'm in now because of the work I put in, not because of an impressive resume. They knew I served time, and they still gave me a chance," she shares. "I'm not proud of where I've been but I sure as fuck am proud of where I am now."
I look at my lap, not knowing how to respond. Of all the secrets Alex might've had, this is not one I could ever conjure up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her biting the inside of her cheek. "If you want me to take you to the airport..."
"I need some time to process this." I dig through my suitcase, which is now on its side, until finding my running shoes.
"I get it."
I search for my Nike pants and thermal shirt, and even though I know they're right in front of me, it's like I can't see them.
"I'm sorry," is the last thing she says before I walk out of the bedroom.
I move swiftly to the bathroom and change into running gear, heading immediately out the front door without so much as looking at Alex's friends. They probably think I'm rude, but she put me in a terribly awkward position. I hope she explains what transpired and they understand why I needed to get the fuck away from her.
I have no idea where I'll run in this unfamiliar setting, but where I go doesn't matter. I'll jog on the highway for all I care. I stretch my calves and notice a wooden directional sign pointing to a path around the pond. Perfect.
My emotions are a mix of fury, hurt and curiosity, and I don't know which one to latch onto, so I examine each one closely. The fury is the easiest one to dissect—I'm angry that Alex didn't tell me about her time in prison despite having ample time to do so. Although we never seemed at a loss for conversation, there were many times when she could've brought it up. It's not that she owed me an explanation, but a prison sentence is something I should know about if I'm going to sleep with another person. In fact, an ideal time would've been when I asked her if she was an ax murderer. No, but I did serve time is how she could've broached the subject. How would I have reacted if she'd confessed that first night? I probably would've walked to the diner and taken my chances of getting home later that night.
I turn onto a path covered with snow, but it looks solid enough to run on.
The next emotion is hurt—I'm hurt that she'd have sex with me but didn't respect me enough to fill me in on such a monumental part of her life. If what we had was merely a one-night stand, I get it—she wouldn't owe me an explanation about any part of her life. However, she's the one who asked if I wanted to join her at the cabin. She's the one who chose the words after we had sex, first time, implying there would be another.
The snow gets deeper the further I go, so I find my way to a paved road that makes it much easier to run at a faster pace. I'm working up a sweat, and it feels good every time my foot pounds against the pavement.
Then there's my curiosity. What must her life have been like that she felt the need to turn to drugs? Did she do the drugs she was pushing? Does she still do drugs? I didn't notice any track marks on her arms or needle pricks in the crook of her elbow, but then again, I haven't examined her body—at least not those parts. How did she spend her time in prison? Was it terrifying? How did the women at the cabin meet while they were locked up—were they cell mates? What were their crimes and when were they released?
I contemplate all those things as I run, cold air pumping in and out of my lungs and almost freezing my throat. I don't know how far I've traveled, but when I come to a crossroad, I stop to catch my breath. I place my hands on my knees and let my head hang, feeling dizzy from the cold air and the gravity of the situation. Should I care this much? I mean, does it really affect my life?
I start my run back to the cabin. For all I know, Alex and I could spend a night at the cabin and never speak again. I could also ask her to take me to the Burlington Airport and forget this whole adventure ever happened. I could call Larry and beg him to allow me to join his family in Shelburne. No, I won't do that.
Trouble is, I like Alex—I really like her. I could see spending more time with her when we're back in Manhattan. I could see us dating, and that's not something I've felt about another person in a long time. I began a relationship with Larry out of convenience. My other boyfriends were pretty much the same, and the girls I hooked up with were insignificant. Alex makes me feel something; she makes my whole body tingle and I don't mean just in bed. We've only known each other for three days, but I crave her attention and want to know more about her. Is there something else she hasn't told me about her life that would be critical to determine if I want to pursue this?
I arrive back near the cabin having categorized my emotions, but I haven't decided if I should stay or leave. As I walk the last 30 yards or so down the driveway, I spot Alex sitting in an Adirondack chair.
She stands upon seeing me. "Hey."
I remove my wool headband that's damp with sweat, but I don't return her greeting.
"I was getting worried," she says through a nervous laugh.
I wipe my forehead. "How long have I been gone?"
"About 45 minutes…Forty-two to be exact." She looks away as if she revealed too much, but then continues, "I thought maybe you'd literally run away."
I unzip my jacket and tighten my jaw. "I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind."
"I'm sorry, Piper." She takes a few steps closer until we're eye to eye. "I had no idea where this thing was headed, and I didn't want to freak you out by telling you about my time in prison."
I try keeping my expression neutral. "It would've freaked me out."
She looks into the distance and issues a self-deprecating smile. "Who wants to be alone in a motel with a fucking felon, right?"
"I don't think I would've agreed to ride with you had I known," I respond honestly.
"That's fair."
I put my hands on my hips. "What else haven't you told me?"
"Nothing." Her eyes return to mine. "I swear," she says with conviction. "I mean, I'm sure there are little things you'll find out the more we get to know each other, but nothing massive like this."
Silence permeates the air, and all I can hear are birds chirping and the occasional car passing by. Logic tells me to simply walk away—ask one of her friends to take me to a bus station or to the airport. I could even investigate if Uber exists in St. George.
"I'm embarrassed that I served time," she finally says. "It's obviously not something I trot out to impress people."
"Were you trying to impress me?"
"I don't know if impress is the right word." She raises her shoulders. "But the more I got to know you, the more I wanted you to like me." Alex doesn't strike me as someone who is comfortable being vulnerable, so I appreciate her comment that much more.
"I did like you," I reply, feeling my defenses shatter. "I do like you."
"I am really, really sorry." She takes my hand. "I want you to stay."
I look at our joined hands, and then back up at her, but I don't respond.
"As crazy as it sounds, I think we could be good together," Alex offers. "Not just over the Christmas holiday, but…permanently." She quickly corrects herself. "I don't mean marriage or anything, but—"
"I know what you mean," I interject. "And maybe we could be good together, but not if we hide things from each other."
"I already told you, I'm not hid—"
Before she has a chance to finish, I wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her. My head is whirling, and I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing but kissing her feels so fucking good. The kiss lasts longer than I intended, but I can't seem to pull away from Alex's warm, soft lips.
Finally, I rest my forehead against hers. "No more secrets?"
She shakes her head. "No more secrets."
"Ok." I take her hand and walk back to the cabin. "So, should I be worried about Sylvie around kitchen knives?"
That gives her a good laugh.
As soon as we walk inside, Lorna greets me. "I'm sorry I spilled the beans."
"It's ok," I reply.
"That's something Alex should've told you when the time was right," she continues. "And I opened my big mouth."
I shrug. "We cleared the air, so…"
Alex kisses the side of my head, and I love the simplicity of it. It's a reassurance to me that everything is ok, yet it's also a sort of an unspoken statement in front of her friends.
"Hey, Chapman, you know how to make a sandwich?" Nicky calls from the kitchen as if she's unfazed by any of this.
"Yes." I head in that direction. "Sandwich making is a culinary skill I possess."
"Then make yourself useful on this assembly line."
I wash my hands and then stand next to her.
We make five sandwiches while Poussey fills glasses with water and Alex hooks her iPod up to a speaker to play Christmas music.
"Vause, this is the last meal we're going to prepare," Nicky says, tapping her shoulder against my arm. "She's a trained chef. Wait until you see the shit she can whip up."
"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a chef?" Alex places napkins on the table. "I worked the fucking line—that's a far cry from being a chef."
"Cook, chef, whatever," Poussey chimes in with a clap. "Girl can cook!"
"I can't wait to try her food," I reply.
"You'll do more than taste it." She returns to the kitchen for a bag of potato chips. "You're going to help me prepare it."
The other women make noises like I'm in trouble.
I make a sweeping motion over the sandwiches. "I have just demonstrated my culinary acumen."
"Everyone has to start somewhere," she says as she breezes by, trailing a hand across my lower back.
"Yeah, we've had to fend for ourselves for three fucking nights," Nicky says. "I expect greatness from you."
Everyone but Sylvie eats at the kitchen table, and they fill us in on what they've done at the cabin for the past few days. It consists of a whole lot of drinking, smoking and eating.
"We did go to the grocery store," Lorna offers. "That was our big adventure."
"Do I need to go to the store today to prep for dinner?" Alex asks.
"Check out the fridge and the pantry," Poussey says, leaning back in her chair. "I feel like we bought every protein in the store and lots of other shit like vegetables, peanut butter, pasta, stuff to make biscuits...you name it, we probably bought it."
"What have you cooked so far?"
"We've eaten sandwiches every day for lunch," Poussey replies. "Had a frozen lasagna for dinner the first night and pizza the last two nights."
"Gross." Alex makes a face.
"And Rhodes cinnamon rolls for breakfast," Lorna adds. "Those are my favorite."
Alex sighs. "We've got our work cut out for us."
"You owe us a spectacular birthday AND Christmas dinner combination," Nicky adds.
Alex squeezes my knee under the table. "I promise we'll make it special."
