The following morning begins with a quick trip to the grocery store followed by a thorough house cleaning as we prepare for Nicky's arrival around mid-day. She's only spending one night, choosing to return to Darien to wake up on Christmas morning with her girlfriend of two months.
Alex finishes emptying the dishwasher. "Nicky should be here in like 15 minutes."
"Perfect." I turn on my Christmas playlist. "Do you think she'll want to eat lunch when she gets here?"
"Knowing Nicky, she skipped breakfast and will be starving after the three-hour drive."
I rest my hands on my hips and scan the room. "The place looks good."
She kisses my cheek. "Thanks for your help with all the cleaning."
"I actually like cleaning," I say, moving away to fluff a throw pillow. "There's something cathartic about it."
"Good, then we'll never have to hire a housekeeper."
Is she implying that we'll live together? I shouldn't be surprised by that, but it makes me overjoyed to hear her refer to what I hope is our inevitable cohabitation.
She grabs her keys. "I'm going to move my car further up the driveway so Nicky doesn't have to park on the street."
"Because May Valley Road is such a busy freeway?" I joke. The only people who drive on this street are the occupants of the other four houses.
I wonder if Alex is nervous about introducing me to Nicky. She hasn't stopped moving since early this morning. I know she confided in her friend about her feelings for me three years ago, but I don't know what Nicky's reaction was when Alex confessed she had thoughts about her then 18-year-old client. There's no way Nicky could be ruder than my friends, so I'm hoping we hit it off and Alex has nothing to worry about.
I fold a blanket over the sofa and glance out the window to see a BMW pull into the driveway. Alex shuts her car door and walks over to the driver's side with a wide smile. Nicky exits the vehicle and says something I can't hear, and then hugs her. It's evident how happy they are upon being reunited. She pops the trunk and hands Alex her duffle bag, then she hoists a paper bag out of it. As soon as Nicky looks at the house, I duck behind the curtain, hoping she didn't catch me spying.
Nicky steps inside, and I quickly pretend to adjust the ornaments on the Christmas tree.
"How much longer are you here?" she asks, still in conversation with Alex.
"Until the end of the year, but I might stay a few extra days before I start my next gig."
"Which is where?"
She shuts the door. "Manchester, New Hampshire."
Nicky glides into the living room, and when she turns around, she spots me. "Hey. You must be Piper."
"Hi, yes. It's a pleasure to meet you." I extend my hand. "Alex speaks highly of you."
Nicky smirks at her old friend. "Does she, now?"
I nod, reaching for the brown paper bag she carried inside. "Can I take that?"
She hands me the shopping bag. "Oh, this is for you."
Alex moves next to me. "You didn't have to bring anything."
"My mom didn't teach me much, but she did advise me never to show up empty handed," she replies.
I peek inside to see a bottle of wine and a box of pastries. "Are those croissants?"
"And a few other baked goods." She removes her coat. "My girlfriend is a baker, so I stopped at the place she works to get these this morning. The chocolate eclairs are to die for."
"Thank you so much." I smile, already fond of Alex's best friend. "I'll put these in the kitchen."
She must think I'm out of earshot when she turns to Alex and says, "You were right, Vause, she's hot."
I blush as I take the items out of the bag. "Are you hungry, Nicky?" I call from the kitchen.
"Famished," she replies. "Why don't you give me a tour of your temporary digs, and we can go out to eat or something."
"Piper made a wild rice and mushroom soup," Alex responds as I return to the living room.
"We don't have to eat that if you don't want." I wave her off. "Alex told me you like mushrooms, so I thought—"
She puts her hand on my shoulder. "You're cute and you cook? You're a keeper."
Alex hangs Nicky's coat on a hook by the door. "She cleans, too."
Nicky smiles. "I'm sorry I didn't get to her first."
"Well, I'm glad we're meeting now."
"After all these years." She eyes me and shakes her head. "I'm glad things worked out for you two crazy kids."
The conversation flows easily as we eat lunch and swap stories about Alex. I learn a little more about Nicky's privileged background and how she resents her parents now, and she asks me questions about growing up in Darien. Alex told me that her friend was comical, but she didn't mention how crass and funny she is.
We spend the afternoon hanging out at Alex's house, and then drive into Boston. Despite the cold temperature, we spend a few hours doing touristy stuff before our reservation at The Salty Pig on Newbury Street.
It's evident that they've known each other a long time. They finish each other's sentences, share old stories, and have the same sense of humor. Neither of them excludes me from any part of the conversation, which is what I'd hoped my own friends would've done when I introduced them to Alex. Maybe she was right—our age difference isn't an issue for us as a couple, but Polly and the gang have a limited scope as college seniors.
"Tell me an embarrassing story about Alex," I request over a shared slice of cheesecake.
"Don't," Alex replies, but her face is soft.
I tilt my head. "Please."
Nicky holds her hands up. "Alright, alright…I'll tell you one that's not super embarrassing."
"Which one?"
"The one about the cash on your bed."
Alex rolls her eyes as she sips a glass of Port. "Fine."
"I'm sure she's told you about her days in the drug cartel."
"Not nearly enough," I reply, remembering the countless times I've asked her to tell me more, yet we always seem to get interrupted.
"Suffice it to say, Vause was a baller back in the day," she begins. "She always got paid in cash, because the drug lords didn't want checks or bank deposits to be traced back to them."
I listen intently.
"There was one time when we were both living in the City, and I hadn't heard from her in like a week, but she told me she'd be in town," she continues. "So, I went to her apartment to check on her one morning. The door was propped open and the place was pretty trashed—like she'd had a rager the night before and didn't clean a thing. Candles were still lit, wax dripping on the floor; half-empty bottles of Champagne were all over the room; and some dude was passed out on the sofa with a bong resting on his stomach."
I glance at Alex, who seems tense, but not upset. I wonder if she doesn't like telling me these stories because she lives with the guilt of what she did for a living.
"I called for her, but she didn't answer, so I went to her bedroom, and there she was asleep and literally covered in cash," Nicky states with wide eyes and a smile. "You couldn't even see the surface of her bed—there was money fucking everywhere!"
I turn to her. "Is that true?"
She sits back and raises her eyebrows. "It was the first time I'd seen that kind of cash, and I was pretty wasted. A couple of friends from the cartel told me I should sleep with the money, so I did."
"She spread $10,000 all over the bed," Nicky chimes in with laughter. "I'd never seen anything like it."
I give her a look. "Ten thousand dollars?"
"Yeah." Alex strings an arm over the back of my chair. "I did stupid shit like that all the time."
"I didn't realize Alex hadn't told you a lot about those days," Nicky says.
She holds up her hand. "It's fine. I'm sure it won't be the only embarrassing story you'll hear while Nicky's in town."
I make a mental note to ask Alex to tell me more about her life before prison, but for now, I switch the conversation to how the two of them met.
We leave Boston just after stuffing ourselves silly and get back to Alex's place close to midnight. Nicky wants to have a nightcap before going to sleep, so while Alex goes into the kitchen to open a bottle of Brandy, I have a moment alone with her friend.
"Thanks for driving out here," I start. "I know Alex misses you."
"I miss her, too."
"You should visit her in some of the cities she goes to," I reply. "I'm sure she'd love the company."
"You're right, I should." Nicky kicks her legs up on the coffee table. "What about you—aren't you graduating soon?"
"May." I nod.
"Good for you." She smiles. "So, Vause is moving to New Hampshire next?"
I sit in the armchair. "She tried getting a placement close to Northampton, but Manchester was the closest thing they had."
"What's that, like a three-hour drive?"
I tuck my hair behind my ear. "Something like that."
"That's not bad," Nicky responds. "You could see each other every weekend…unless that's not what you want."
"Oh, I want it," I quickly reply. "I can't imagine not seeing Alex at least once a week. I've been spoiled with her living so close."
"I don't know if she told you," Nicky slings her arm over the back of the sofa. "But she's had the hots for you for a long fucking time."
I glance at my lap, feeling my cheeks start to tingle.
"Even when she was your therapist, there was something in her eyes when she talked about you. She struggled with that—she knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help it."
Alex told me that there are rare moments when Nicky is serious, but when she is, she's usually got something poignant to share.
I feel the blush crawl up my neck and wonder if my face is pink.
"I'm glad I finally got to see the two of you together," Nicky says. "She's not just smitten, blondie. Vause is in love."
I finally speak. "How can you tell?"
She grins. "I can see it on you, too."
Alex strolls into the living room with a glass of Brandy. "Does this taste weird, or is it just me?"
I quickly recover, sitting up taller and reaching for the glass. "Let me see." I take a sip and watch Alex's eyes move from me to Nicky and back to me.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"It's a little on the sweet side." I hand it back to her. "But it's not bad if that's what you were worried about."
Nicky doesn't join us in sampling the Brandy. "I was just telling Piper that you look like a love-sick puppy."
Alex juts her chin back. "What?"
"Those weren't her words." I stand, linking my arm through hers. "She just said it looks like we're in love."
"As long as you didn't say I'm pussy whipped."
"I didn't say it, but you are," she laughs.
"Fuck you, Nichols." Alex pats my butt, then returns to the kitchen.
"She's not whipped," I defend.
Nicky shrugs, arms wide open. "I call it like I see it."
She returns with three glasses of Brandy. "Tell us more about this baker girlfriend of yours."
Nicky regales us with how they met in the bakery and how she went so frequently before asking Melissa out that she racked up $200 in baked goods, most of which she didn't even eat.
I finish my Brandy right as I catch myself yawning. "I'm going to call it a night. Do you need help with the sofa bed?"
"I got it." Alex gets to her feet, pecking me on the cheek. "Night, babe."
"Sleep well, Nicky."
"You, too."
Christmas comes and goes in a flash, and I have an after-the-holidays-hangover. I love all the fanfare that comes with Thanksgiving and Christmas so much that when it's over, I feel deflated. That plus the month of January seems to go on forever—it's dark, wet and cold. The trees have lost their leaves and the world seems colorless. In addition to my post-holiday blues, I have to find a way to tell my parents about Alex. By no means is she forcing me to come clean, but it's not fair to her. I feel like it shows a lack of respect if I don't fess up soon—like Alex doesn't mean as much to me as she does. Now that we've exchanged I love yous, it's high time I tell my parents I'm in a meaningful relationship. The question is whether I tell them in person or over the phone.
"I'm happy to talk it out with you, but it's ultimately your decision," Alex says as she stretches fresh sheets across the bed.
"They should meet you before I go to grad school." I tuck the flat sheet under the mattress. "I just don't know which route is better—phone or in person."
What I'm intentionally leaving out is that Alex and I will probably live together when I go to grad school. We haven't discussed it beyond relocating to the same city, and I don't want to press the matter when I have no idea where I'm going to be and there are other pressing matters at hand.
"Are you just processing out loud, or do you want my opinion?"
I shove a pillow in its case. "I want your opinion."
She fluffs the comforter. "If it were me, I'd tell them on the phone, and then plan a time when we can meet."
I ponder that idea for a moment. "Would you be willing to meet them in the near future? That is, if they agree to meet you."
"I guess," she replies non-committedly.
I place a hand on my hip. "Do you want to meet them?"
She finishes making the bed. "I don't have a burning desire to meet the Chapmans, but that doesn't mean I won't."
"Why not? I mean, besides the obvious reasons with our age difference and your position as my former therapist."
She gives me a look. "Do I need reasons beyond those?"
"Then why do I feel like you should meet them?"
"You tell me."
"I guess I feel an obligation." I sit on the edge of the freshly made bed. "I'm still beholden to them financially. I have my own spending money, but they foot the bill for my education and my car."
"That's no small chunk of change." She places a hamper of clean clothes next to me. "Do you want to tell them about us because you think they deserve to know from a financial standpoint?"
"That doesn't sound logical." I pull out a t-shirt to fold. "I guess I want them to know how important you are to me—I want them to like you."
She lets out an almost indistinguishable laugh.
"What?"
"You might want to lower your expectations." She tosses a pair of jeans on the chair.
"Why?"
"You said it yourself—your dad will remember me." Alex folds another shirt. "And even if he doesn't, they're probably going to think our relationship is inappropriate."
"But it's not." I place a stack of shirts in a dresser drawer.
"You don't have to tell me," she responds. "It's them you have to convince."
"I'll tell them the whole story." I shrug. "About how I had a crush on you when you were my counselor, but you refused to have anything but a professional relationship with me."
She shoves our underwear in a drawer. "Do you think they'll believe that?"
"It's the truth."
Alex moves the now empty laundry basket onto the floor, sits where I was a moment ago, and takes my hand. "If telling your parents about us is important to you, and I assume it is, you need to rip the Band Aid off, but don't expect an unreasonable outcome."
I step between her legs. "What would be unreasonable?"
She raises her shoulders. "That they'd understand the nuances of our relationship and be grateful that we waited to be together."
"You think that's unreasonable?"
"Yeah, I do," she half-laughs. "Who have you told our story to who hasn't grimaced when they first heard it?" she asks rhetorically. "I'll be the first to admit it's unconventional at best and even a little skeevy if you think about it out of context."
"But you didn't have feelings for me until I was in college," I protest.
"That's not entirely true—I pushed my feelings aside, telling myself it was fucked up to think of you that way when you were younger." Alex's expression turns grave. "It wasn't until at least a year later when I allowed myself to think of you in a romantic way, but people don't latch on to that part. It's the first part that creeps them out." She shakes her head. "For God's sake, Piper, you were 17! That's where your parents' thoughts will go, and that's the part that's difficult for anyone to understand, much less the people who raised you."
I lower my head, knowing Alex is right. I view our relationship as a fairytale love story, but that's probably not how the world sees it.
"If you want to wait—" she begins.
"No," I interrupt. "I don't want to wait; besides, what would I be waiting for? It's not like we're going to be any more in love two or three months from now."
She lifts her brows.
"That would be impossible," I say.
Alex cranes her neck to kiss me. "You'd be amazed at how much capacity my heart has for you."
That's one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. I place my hands on her cheeks and sigh. "I'm not waiting to tell them even if it's possible that we're not at the height of our love."
She pulls back and smiles. "I was thinking depth rather than height."
"Semantics." I kiss her once more before turning and walking away. "I'm going to call them now."
She gets to her feet. "Now?"
I glance at my watch. "They're probably both home on a Sunday morning, so yeah."
If I don't call them at this moment, I'll lose the tiny bit of courage I possess. "Will you stay in the room with me?"
She nods.
I grab my phone off the coffee table and take a deep breath before dialing their number.
"Good morning, Piper," my dad answers.
I put him on speakerphone. "Hi, Dad. Is mom there?"
"She's in the kitchen…Carol!" he calls. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine."
"We missed you at Christmas dinner."
"Did grandma make her cornbread stuffing?" I smile, recalling the best part about the annual dinner.
"She did, and it was as delicious as usual. Hang on, I'm going to put you on speaker so your mom can hear."
"Hello, dear," my mom says with the same lackluster greeting she always gives me on the phone.
"Hi, Mom." I glance at Alex, who is perched on the edge of the armchair. "I called to tell you something important."
"Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," I reply. "Nothing's wrong."
"Then what is it?" my father asks.
"I'm calling because…" I take a deep breath before spitting it out. "I wanted to tell you that I'm in a relationship."
Silence.
"Hello?"
"In a relationship? With whom?" my mom asks in a disbelieving tone. "The last I heard, you hadn't gone on a date since your first year at Smith."
I feel lighter having told them the first part, but the rest of the story is the part they aren't going to like. "She's someone I've known for a while—three years, actually."
"She?"
"Yes." I swallow hard. "I'm dating a woman." I was so focused on the idiosyncrasies of my relationship with Alex that I didn't even consider what they might think about the fact that I'm in love with another woman.
"Since when are you a lesbian?" my dad blurts out.
"I'm not gay," I reply. "I fall somewhere on the spectrum…" I glance at Alex who gives me a look like now is not the time to explain where I fall on the Kinsey Scale. "That's beside the point. I'm dating a woman. I love a woman."
"Are you drunk?" my mom screeches. "We raised you better than this!"
"Better than what?" I arch my eyebrows. "Falling in love with a person of the same sex? I didn't realize that had something to do with how you raised me."
"You know what your mother means," my dad replies in a condescending tone.
"It's not something I planned…" I begin pacing. "It just happened."
"Things like this don't just happen, Piper," he replies. "Did someone put you up to this? I knew sending you to an all-women's college would be a mistake."
"Coming to Smith was not a mistake!" I feel heat emanating from within me. "And I met this person before I enrolled, so it has nothing to do with the college I attend."
They remain silent, so I steady my breath and try to calm down before proceeding. "Do you remember when I had to go to substance abuse counseling after my senior year of high school?"
"How could we forget?"
"Well…" I place my hand on my forehead. "I developed a crush on my therapist." Better to get it out all at once.
"Is she the one who told you that you should go out with other girls?" my mom asks as if that would be the worst advice ever.
"No, I mean…" I could tell her that Alex encouraged me to kiss a girl, but that would take way too long to unpack. "The crush I had wasn't on other girls; it was on her—on Alex."
I bite my lower lip, waiting for the backlash. Alex doesn't flinch.
"Your therapist?" he asks in a bitter tone. "Piper, she was an adult—you were a child!"
"Nothing happened," I quickly add. "I want to make sure you understand that—nothing happened between us back then."
"Is she the woman you're with now?" my mother asks as if she's finally putting the pieces together. "Your former therapist?"
I glance at the woman I love before answering, "Yes."
All I can hear are moans, groans and other sounds of disgust.
"Please hear me out," I try. "Alex wanted nothing to do with me when I was under her care. I'm the one who confronted her, hoping we could have a relationship or something, but she refused."
"She damn well better have refused!" my dad responds. I picture him storming out of his chair and beginning to pace. I guess I get my need to move when delivering or hearing bad news from him. "Did she touch you inappropriately?"
"God, no!" I make a face. "She wanted nothing to do with me!"
"Until when?" he asks.
"Three years later," I answer. "We only reconnected a few months ago."
It's not a lie—I don't need to tell them about staying in touch with Alex through the years; after all, it wasn't until October when we kissed for the first time (minus the kiss in her office that will go to my grave with me before telling my parents.)
"I hadn't even seen her since that whole court mandated drug and alcohol thing." Again, not the whole truth but I'm not going to dwell on technicalities of running into Alex the summer before college and the many times we talked and texted since then. "Remember I told you about that conference I went to in San Diego in early October?"
They remain silent, and I can almost hear my dad stewing.
"Alex was living in Southern California, and we saw each other again," I say. "And things just…clicked."
"She has to be at least 15 years older than you," he replies. "What does a 30-something-year-old woman want with a 21-year-old kid?"
"I'm an adult, dad," I remind him. "And Alex is 11 years older than me. You've always said I was more mature than my age."
"That's beside the point," my mom chimes in. "She's a…a woman!"
"Why does her gender matter?"
"It's not just her gender, although that certainly came out of the blue—it's her age, Piper," my father finishes. "What could you possibly have in common?"
"I'm a psychology major, she's a therapist, we like the same books, the same music, the same food…We have similar temperaments, we enjoy having intellectual conversations…should I go on?"
"Don't get smart with us," my mom chastises. "I do not approve of this, Piper—none of it."
"That makes two of us," he replies.
"You don't have to approve." I feel tears stinging my eyes. "I'm telling you about Alex because she has become very important to me, and I don't see that changing." I sniff, holding back tears. "You raised me to love generously and to be a good person. I'd like to believe I've become someone you can be proud of no matter who I choose to love."
Alex reaches for my hand.
"I need some time with this, Piper," my dad responds. "Right now, I'm upset and concerned about your lifestyle choices."
I open my mouth to rebuke his statement, but Alex squeezes my hand and gives me a look as if I should let it lie.
"If you ever come around, I'd love for you to meet her." I wipe my eyes with my shirtsleeve. "I guess that's all for now."
"Goodbye, Piper."
I hang up and collapse onto Alex's lap, crying.
"That wasn't easy." She rubs my back. "I'm proud of you."
"I don't know why I need their approval."
"It's not that you need it," she says. "You just want it."
I nod.
"Maybe they'll come around eventually." She caresses my thigh. "I'm not going anywhere."
That causes me to smile. "Thank you."
