45

He dials their landline- it rings, and rings, and rings. No answer.

He ends the call and balances his phone on his thigh. He dials Alex's cell phone number with his left hand.

It rings. And rings.

He doesn't know what to hope for, that she doesn't answer so he doesn't have to tell her anything, or that she does, so he doesn't have to call Piper.

"Hey kid. You home yet?"

"No, ma..."

"You're not home? Well we should be back soon, just have to get Harper from class. What do you want for dinner?"

"Ma I... can you come to Mount Sinai?"

"Where?"

"The ER. I'm fine, I just hurt my hand."

"You're in the emergency room because you hurt your hand," she says steadly, doing her best not to let the worry effect her voice. She repeats, "is it broken?"

Piper steals the phone from her, Jamie is mid sentence... "...move my fingers."

"Jamie, are you okay?"

He hears Piper's voice. His head tilts back, not knowing they were together. "I'm fine, can you put mom back on?"

"She's driving. How'd you hurt your hand?"

"Soccer. Can you please just come?"

"Yes, we're coming now. Can you move it? Who's with you?"

"Yeah I can move it, I think its fine, but they want to do an X-ray and you have to sign insurance stuff."

"Oh God," he hears Piper's voice crack.

"Mom, I'm fine, please don't worry. My coach is here." He tries not to audibly sigh as he looks over at his coach, talking to Eli's distraught mother.

Soon after, he sees them, frumpily dressed, as if they threw on, whatever was within arms reach, to run errands. The sense of relief is automatic, but its quickly overturned by dread, when he thinks about telling them what he did.

He sees Piper looking through her purse, while trying to keep up with Alex's long strides. She hands the brunette her wallet.

Alex sees Jamie's red cheek and realizes quickly, that this isn't a normal soccer injury.

He stands up when he sees them, but before he can say anything, Eli's mother attacks,

"you'll pay for this," she states accusingly.

"Mrs. Williamson, I asked you not to say anything," the boys' coach says to her with a raised hand.

He watches his mothers, who are both confused by the interaction, unaware of who this woman is.

"Your son broke my son's nose!," she shouts at both of them. They both look at him, his hand is cradled by his unaffected one.

Their coach stands between Eli's mother, Piper and Alex, "ma'am please, we need formal statements from both boys. There are some children that say your son provoked their son. The principal will speak to you all tomorrow."

"Yes, and I'll be making sure that he's," she points to Jamie, "expelled."

Alex keeps her voice calm, "okay lady, before you point your finger at my kid, we need all the facts and it sounds like they're still up for dispute, so until then you're gonna need to back off."

"We're finished discussing this any further," he says looking between Mrs. Williamson and Alex, "anything further can wait until tomorrow. Good night," he says toward Mrs. Williamson. It is only then, that she turns to leave and find her son.

"Can I have one of you fill some forms out over there," he asks both Piper and Alex and points toward the reception counter.

Piper looks at his cheek, and tries not to wince at the slightly reddened edematous skin, before following his coach to fill out the proper forms.

He sits down next to Alex who looks him over, "tell me he hit you first," she says, her tone is threatening. She's more than displeased, worried at the fury behind this other boy's mother's allegations.

There have been few times that he can recall where she's looked at him like this, these are not the times where she puts on a face, where she's composed and lets the world roll off her back. It's a face that's bare, filled with hurt, anger and fear.

He swallows, "he's been giving me a hard time for over a month, but today, he knew my ankle was sore and he went out of his way to hurt me."

"So, he did mess with you first."

"Yeah, I'm not insane, I'm not just gonna go around punching people."

"You don't punch people at all! Why didn't you tell me he was bothering you?"

"What were you going to do?"

"Anything! I would've talked to your coach or your principal, or his parents? You don't use your fists. What did he even say to you?"

"Anti-gay stuff!? He's called me everything you can imagine."

"You can't let that get to you! You know the names he called you aren't true."

"I thought I could handle it. I did...for the whole month, ma! But then he started on you guys too."

Her eyebrows narrow, "babe, if my fist reacted to every name I've been called, I'd have no bones in my hands left. You know who you are, don't let his words seep through your brain."

"That's what Lauren said," he thinks of her. She must be disgusted by his behavior. If she was sitting here, she'd probably be looking at him, with the same expression his mother is. He shakes his head, "ok but when he's using derogatory terms to describe something that is true about you, I'm supposed to just take it?! I mean how long am I supposed to put up with shit like that?" He can't believe she isn't proud of him for defending her.

"I'm not saying it's always possible to ignore, but don't give people like that, the time of day. As hard as it may be, sometimes you have to be the bigger person." She knows her words are right, even if she hasn't followed these rules herself. She'd always played the long game. She'd tried standing up for herself as a kid, when the same group of girls relentlessly teased her for things that were out of her control. She'd waited until prom night to retaliate with action, only to have it backfire. She thought of her recruitment of fellow inmates in her plan to fuck with Pennsatucky, how much time and effort she invested using mental tactics instead of physical force. Sure, she had made threats, but it wasn't until she messed with Piper, someone she loved deeply, that it became physical. And now her son had done the same thing. Would every encounter, where she felt this feeling of dread course through her veins, result in the realization that her son was a mirror image of herself?

"I'm sorry but between the taunting and then when he kicked my ankle... I didn't feel like being the bigger person.

"That's not a small kid J, he could've really hurt you."

"He did really hurt me."

She looks him over, with more concern, regretting some of her wrath as she hasn't really asked him how he's feeling. She holds his face with her left hand, her eyes peer over her glasses as she tilts it toward the fluorescent lighting.

"I just hurt him worse," he says; it was meant to sound prideful but it was instead laced with a hint of remorse.

She doesn't reply to his comment, "we should get ice for that."

"It's fine," he says pulling his face away slightly, "just leave it."

"It's not fine" she barks back. It isn't clear what "it" is not fine, and she doesn't bother to clarify. She walks over toward where Piper is still filling out paperwork to ask the triage nurse for an ice pack while they wait. He sees Piper rub his mother's back, the blonde leans her head against her wife's shoulder as the brunette pulls out her phone.

She passes him, handing him the ice pack before stepping outside to call Nicky, to see if she's available to pick up their daughter.

Nicky quickly picks up Harper from dancing school, gives her a brief overview of what happened and heads back to her apartment, eager to hear any update on what's going on with Jamie.

"Beer or water?," she offers Harper with her head halfway in the fridge, while she pulls out a bottle of water for her snickering niece.

"So, do you have homework or something? Should we get started on that?"

"I don't have any today."

She nods. "TV?," she asks while flipping on the set, after looking over her movie collection and realizing she has nothing that's appropriate for her niece to watch. Harper flips through a few channels before putting the remote down, " I don't wanna watch tv."

"Your call kid."

"Can we play a game?"

"I'd love to, but all the fun stuff's at your house."

"Do you have markers?"

"I've got...," she rummages through the top drawer of her side table and pulls out a few sharpee markers, " will these do?"

Harper nods, "paper?"

She pulls a few sheets from the printer tray. "Anything else?"

"Uh...," she thinks, "scissors and tape."

"Are you making me an update for my fridge?"

"Nope," she taps the floor next to her for Nicky to sit. "Make a line of circles like this," she shows her the sample she's already drawn. After about 20 minutes, they've created a paper jewelry collection, complete with a makeshift crown and die, suitable for an impromptu game of Pretty Pretty Princess.

Nicky rolls the odd shaped die and a moment later, Harper scotch tapes a red paper earring to her earlobe. She's relieved to hear her doorbell ring, having not received a text back from Piper, Alex or Jamie. She all but runs to her door and looks out the peephole. Her shoulders relax as she opens the door for Francesca.

"Am I interrupting something?," she asks as she fondles her girlfriend's homemade earring. She pulls her head back some, "no, just... what is this called?," she asks Harper.

"Pretty-Pretty-Princess," she says emphasizing each word slowly.

"Ah. You left in such a rush, I just wanted to make sure you were alright," Francesca says softly.

"My brother got hurt at school and my moms went to the hospital to make sure his hand isn't broken," Harper fills in Ms. Chessie, letting them both know, there's no point in trying to whisper around her.

As Alex comes home with a sleeping Harper, she walks her into her room and closes the door. Jamie flops onto the smaller couch and glances at Piper,

"Are you mad at me too?"

"I'm not mad."

"Mom is."

"She's not mad at you."

"Could've fooled me."

"She's mad at... the situation."

"That's just a fancy way of saying I could've handled it better, but mom I..."

"J, you don't have to explain it, I understand. A person can only take so much, before something is said that makes them snap. You get that from me, unfortunately. Just don't make it a habit."

"The kid is just fucking hateful. He barely even knows me, never mind you or mom."

"There are always going to be people who you don't agree with. But that doesn't mean they're not entitled to their opinions and beliefs."

"He used the word... that people use to describe gays... the 'f' word."

Piper does her best to mask her tension, "in this context, you can say it."

"I don't want to."

She nods, "it's hard. I'm not comfortable with it either. It's not civil."

"I know that."

"He probably doesn't understand the weight of his words."

"He's ...he doesn't know anything, but thinks he knows everything."

"He's sophomoric."

His eyebrow raises in question.

"Look it up," she tells him, as she always does.

He's frustrated, he exhales and looks up the words in his online dictionary, he nods. "And as if I'm automatically gay because you and mom are. I have a girlfriend! He's such an asshole," his hand raises, excusing himself, "sophomoric."

"Yeah, by that philosophy, you'd mimic whatever you saw us do. Well wait a minute, you like girls. Oh no, did us raising you, make you like girls?!"

He forces a laugh, "ugh, why does he even care?"

"Some people believe there's something wrong with people like your mother and I, that we're unnatural. They have this quixotic world view, that their way is the right way, where everyone should be like them."

"How exciting," he says, his tone misanthropic.

"Well your mother and I feel the same way. It would be truly boring if everyone were the same. I don't know why people choose to live in a city like this if they're going to discriminate against people who aren't like them."

He looks disheartened. "Why would anyone choose a life where they have a higher chance of being treated poorly?," he asks with obviousness. "It's not a choice."

"But there are also plenty of other people who understand, that who you love isn't a choice, it's not a controllable force, or a temptation that's being given into. It's instinctual feelings from within, that people follow because being around a certain person makes them feel like the truest version of themselves."

He bites along the skin from the inside of his mouth. "You've dated guys before though right?"

She looks back at him not expecting the question, "how did you know about that?"

"Pictures at gram's and stuff," he shrugs his shoulder, implying that the source wasn't important. "Weren't you even engaged to someone else at one point?"

Finding it unlikely, she still asks him, "did mom tell you that?"

"No," he shakes his head and waits for her to respond. He watches her eyes wander somewhere behind him, "so were you?"

She alters her position, seeking one of comfort but fails, "yes... and I thought that was what I wanted at the time. And maybe a small part of it really was what I wanted..."

He looks at her slightly confused.

"I was trying to be someone that I wasn't, giving into what was wanted of me while suppressing parts of myself that other people in my life may have looked down upon."

His eyes narrow, trying to comprehend.

"Deep down, I always wanted commitment from someone. It didn't matter what was between their legs, sorry to be frank."

His eyes close in reaction to her bluntness, but he brushes the idea away quickly, actually appreciating when she talked to him like this. "So you don't choose," he confirms.

She pulls her lips into a line and shakes her head no, "imagine there's a long line." She draws a line along the coffee table with her finger. "On one end there are people who only are attracted to people of the same sex. The thought of being with someone of the opposite sex does nothing for them, they would feel uncomfortable. Then on the other end are people who feel that same way about people of the opposite sex, and the thought of being with someone from the same sex produces no pleasant intimate feeling. But somewhere along the middle of the line, many of us, myself included, fall somewhere else. Some prefer someone of their own sex, but aren't opposed to the idea of being with someone of the opposite sex and vice versa. Some prefer men and women equally. People like to categorize people, put labels on everyone. People like when things are simple, black and white. But when most people are grey, they shouldn't be expected to get in some box."

He's quiet for a while, he looks along the imaginary line.

"What do you think?," she asks gauging his thoughts of the Kinsey scale.

"That it's weird that you can sometimes like guys. Not that you're weird, I just I don't know."

"I'm very much in love with your mother."

"Is she okay with it?"

"Does she have a choice?"

He tilts his head, "guess not."

"She used to not be. I think, oh I dunno, after the last twenty years, she feels more secure about it," she laughs. "It took a long time for me to focus on the people who let me be me, and forgive those who wanted me to be who they wanted me to be. There needs to be more people who love someone wholly, for everything that they are, not the pieces that make them comfortable."

"Harper?," she asks her daughter, who's now in her pajamas, sitting on her area rug. "Yeah?"

"C'mere, I wanna talk to you."

"Is Jamie ok?," she scooches closer dragging her doll that's face down on her rug.

"Yeah, he's okay. Another boy at school was very mean to him."

"Eli?"

"Yes," she sighs, "Eli, how do you know?"

"He's always mean to him."

She looks at her daughter, and wonders if she hasn't been involved enough. "He talks to you about Eli?"

"Sometimes..."

"Harper...," she wills wanting to know the rest.

"Sometimes I listen when he talks on the phone," she confesses under her breath, "but I just want to hear. Sometimes he doesn't let me listen," she says sadly.

She pulls her close and she sits in her lap. She absentmindedly starts brushing her daughters doll's hair, when Harper leans away and grabs another doll who's hair is matted far worse. After a few moments, she's aware of what shes doing, she places the doll on her daughter's rug and rests her chin atop the soft blonde curls.

"Harper, do you know what a law is?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"Rules," she says shrugging her shoulders.

"Okay. And why are they important?"

"Cause... if you don't listen, you can get a ticket or go to jail."

"Right," she sighs, "most of them are to keep people safe."

She feels her daughters head nod, "yup." She watches her small hands, undo the velcro along her doll's back, and pick out something more suitable for her to wear.

"Harper, I haven't always followed the rules."

"Sometimes I don't either. We're supposed to put our lunchboxes in the closet when we get to school, but sometimes I put my snack in my desk and eat it when Ms. Faucy isn't watching."

Her eyes are glassy, why am I doing this? She doesn't understand. Maybe if I talked to Jamie earlier, he wouldn't have turned out so much like me. She presses her lips against her daughter's head and breathes until she's sure her voice wont shake.

"I broke some laws baby," her voice is raspy, but it doesn't shake.

Her daughter's head tilts back some to look up, but she presses her chin down, she can't look at her.

"Did you go to jail?"

She nods, "yeah I did."

"But you didn't have to stay?"

"I did for a while, but my lawyer, like Lauren's daddy? He helped me get out."

"But... you don't have to go there anymore right?"

"Right," her voice is soft, "I follow the rules now, so I don't ever have to go back."

"What laws did you break?"

"That's not important right now, whats important is that... Harper... you follow the rules okay?," her voice breaks.

"Does Jamie know what laws you broke?"

"Yes, but he didn't know that I broke any laws until he was older."

"Which ones did you break?"

"Harper, I said not now."

"Did you hurt someone?"

"No, Harper. I...," her fingers run over her hair and scratch her scalp. Alex, you brought this up, just do it. "You know how cigarette's are bad for you?"

"They're drugs."

"They are, and there are other drugs, like cigarettes, worse ones. I used to help sell them to people."

"Why?"

"It was a mistake Harper," she cant control her voice, " a very bad mistake."

She tries to wiggle free, uncomfortable with her mother's voice this way, unable to see her, but Alex keeps her in place.

"Umph, let me go," her mother's tension relaxes.

Her daughter turns toward her, not understanding why she's tearful. She has seen her cry less than she'd be able to count on her fingers, "it's okay to make mistakes."

Her dark hair shakes slightly, "not all mistakes."

"Mama, don't cry," she pleads. "Why are you crying?," her voice begs for this to stop.

"Because I don't want anything to happen to you." She sucks her breath in, at a gasp, "Harper, promise me if you need help with something, you'll tell a grown up who you trust, so they can help you."

"I will. Please don't cry," her hands rest on her mother's tear streaked cheeks.

"You tell me or mommy, okay? We'll always help you."

"I will," she whispers. "Look its all dirty," she shows Alex her black stained hands from the makeup that ran down her face.

She takes Harper's hands and wipes them on her jeans. "This is why we're here, okay? To help you and make sure you have help."

She squishes Alex's cheeks together, "I know," she growls.

She plants a kiss on her daughter's nose.

"Does anyone ever tease you at school?"

"Not really."

"Do you know why Jamie got teased?"

"Cause Eli's a bully!," she says with anger.

"Yes, but he made fun of Jamie because he has two moms, instead of a mom and a dad."

"Well my teacher said that there are all different types of families and no family is better than others. Some people have one mom and one dad, some people have two moms, some people have two dads, some people have no moms and no dads, some people have a grandma or aunties..."

"Okay, okay!," she laughs, and sniffs back.

"I like having two moms," she says matter of factly.

"You don't ever wonder what it would be like to have a dad?"

"Nope."

"Do you think Jamie does?"

She shrugs her shoulders, as if she couldn't care less, "he has Finny and Uncle Cal."

Duh, Alex snickers, her world is so simple. She sighs, "long day, get ready for bed."

"Can I go in Jamie's room?"

She raises her hand toward the door, "knock first," she reminds her.

"Hey," she says walking into her brother's room a little timidly, "did you break it?," she asks, looking at the splint on his hand.

"No, its fine. The doctor said I didn't even need this, but mom insisted I wear it for a few days."

"Can I see it?"

He detaches the splint from his hand and hands it to her. She tries to put it over her own wrist, but struggles.

"Can you help me?"

He's nods his head amusedly, and attaches it to her hand.

She waves it around looking at the splint. He smiles at her and lays down flexing his fingers. "Mama said you got into a fight because Eli teased you about them being gay."

He nods, "has anyone ever teased you about it?"

"No." She lays down next to him.

"Well if they do, make sure you don't hit them."

"Uh, I wont, that was stupid. You could've gotten really hurt."

"Okay, I don't need a third mother."

A moment passes.

"Jamie?"

"What?"

"Do you ever wish we had a dad?"

"I used to, sometimes."

"But you don't anymore?

"Nah."

"Cause you have uncle Cal and Finny to show you boy stuff?"

"What?"

"Like mama helps me put on makeup sometimes. And mommy let's me help her make oils. So do they show you how to do guy stuff?"

He cant think of anything in particular, "like what?"

"I don't know!," she exclaims, "like how to use the penis cup thing for soccer."

"Harper! Ugh!"

"What?!"

"Don't talk about my jock strap- there are certain things you just don't talk about out loud." "Sorrrrrrr-ay! But do they teach you other stuff then?"

"Sure. They're good to talk to sometimes. But...well, ma talked to me about the first time I went out with Lauren. And they both showed me how to dance and... I don't know- I mean who's better to ask what girls like than other girls? So it's good to have guys but, well, Moms are good to talk to also. I don't miss not having a dad."

"Me neither." -

Her black hair glistens as the water from the shower hits her back. Her hands brush the water from her eyes, she stares dazedly at the bottles of cleanser in the basket that's suctioned to the corner of the wall.

Her mind tells her to pick up the bottle that her eyes have read over for the last twenty minutes, but the effort is too great. It's as if all motion is suspended.

She finds the strength to lift the bottle, her eyes scan the words, her mind finally digests,

"Purity- purity is natural. We come into this world with all the right instincts. We are innocent and perceive things as they should be, rather than how they are. our conscience is clear, our hands are clean and the world at large is truly beautiful. It is at this time we feel most blessed. To begin feeling young again, we must begin with the most basic step of all, the daily ritual of cleansing."

She throws the bottle fiercely behind her.

A loud slam is heard from the bathroom, Piper makes her way quickly toward their bedroom. "Al?"

"I'm fine, just the soap bottle."

She picks up the bottle and sets it on the corner of the tub.

Piper asks her through the shower curtain, "sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she replies, her voice is muffled.

Piper pulls the curtain back.

Alex stands braced against the wall.

Piper turns off the faucet, and drapes her towel over her wife's shoulders. The brunette wraps it around her torso, she tucks in the end. Piper encourages her to sit on the edge of the tub.

"I can do this for the both of us. I don't want you to stress anymore over this. What's done is done, Alex."

"What if they make this out to be his fault? He got teased because of us. He raised his hands to defend us."

"Retaliation for standing up for something you believe in. Sounds familiar."

"So you noticed that too?," she asks sarcastically. "Why are there so many similarities? No matter how hard I try not to influence them negatively, something new prevails."

"You're not the issue."

"Right," she scoffs, "I know you don't like this, but it's stuff like this that makes me seriously think they'd be better off without me."

"Are you done?," Piper asks her annoyed. The brunette glares at her.

"When I felt worthless, and like I was causing more destruction than production, I spent a lot of time wondering if it mattered if I died. And someone small and wise told me, 'in the macro sense no. You're one Cheerio in the oat box of life. But you fucking tickle me, so I think it would matter."

"Nicky?"

Piper lifts her eyebrows. "You mean everything to them Alex."

"I know! The way Harper looks at me, I don't want to mean everything to her. I want her to grow up to be her own person, I don't want her to be like me."

"You mean everything to them because you've been an irreplaceable influence in their lives, not because you have this spell cast over them."

"Fine then take half the blame for this- he takes your inability to physically control himself and takes my need to fight when someone offends people he cares for."

"We could do worse! I wish he hadn't resorted to violence, but fuck Alex at least it was for something like this. If it wasn't this, it would be something else. As I've gotten older, my vision's gotten worse. They might need glasses one day. And they might get teased for that. Am I going to wish they had better vision and damn myself because they inherited that from me? The glasses are not the problem Alex. We're dealing with a bigger issue here and you need to focus. I'm proud of him. It's not like he started the physical aspects of this fight. And he needs both of us to go down to school and stand up against this. Or it'll continue and happen to some other kid."

She rolls her eyes , annoyed at the entirety of the situation.

"So he has my temper and your passion, fuck, what the hell did we do?"

Alex looks at her, she knows Piper is right. Her elbow leans on the sink, she rests her head against the palm of her had.

"Could that be a bad combination? I mean I'd much rather be spending my day wrapping body bars but maybe it's that kind of combination that actually evokes progression in an imperfect society." Piper looks at her watch, "we have to get going. Am I going alone?"

She let's her arm go slack and lifts her head up, "no, you're not alone."