Chapter 4
The blizzards and ice storms of the past week or so have finally pushed through. The landscape is a carpet of white. I drive past homes that look like they belong in a Currier and Ives or Norman Rockwell painting, or maybe, the front of a Christmas card, especially those where the children have already gone out to build for themselves a handsome snowman. A couple homes have whole families and one even has a snowdog, or maybe it's a snowcat. My parents' home, the home I grew up in, has a family in the making. I honk politely and turn into the drive. Two toe-head boys look up from their creations and peer at me with perplexed looks. A tall lean man with honey blonde hair, clean shaven, wearing dark blue jeans, boots, a burgundy down coat and brown gloves watches while my dad speaks to them. The boys brighten and wave. They call my name and race one another after my car.
I pull my 2008 blue Chevy Volt behind the closed garage and park next to a large white BMW SUV. This has to be my brother's car.
"Aunt Piper," they call.
They round the car as I shut off the engine and open the door. The two stop short and don't come close. I haven't seen them since they were in diapers. Unless they have great memories, I am a complete stranger.
"Hi guys," I say. I give them my best smile.
"You're Aunt Piper?"
"I sure am," I say. I close the door. I don't know what to do. Should I kneel and invite them in for a hug? Pat them on the head? I know one of them is Daniel, but is called Billy, his full name being Daniel William, the same as his dad, my brother, Danny. Daniel professionally. The other, Billy's twin, is David Wilcox Chapman and is simply known as David. They are my parents' only grandsons. "So tell me," I say, "you know who I am and I know one of you is Billy and the other is David, so who is who?"
"I'm Billy," says the more gregarios of the two. Then he points, "He's David." David remains silent.
They are nearly identical. Western European with light skin, light blonde hair, patrician noses, blue eyes, they come up to about my elbow. Both are thin. They wear snow pants. Billy's are blue with yellow tractors. Suspenders hold them up. Beneath the suspenders is a red zippered fleece long-sleeve pullover. David wears the same pants, but his pullover is white. This will do. Billy red and David white. "That is great to know," I say.
"We're building snowmen with Daddy and Grandpa," explains Billy.
I hear the front door open.
"That sounds like a fun activity." I say.
"Do you want to make one, too?"
I look over and see Mom and Susan, my brother's wife. Mom is in a black coat with brown fur protecting her neckline. Boots protect her legs. Tan slacks and short black boots stick out from my sister-in-law's long black ski coat. She has tied a scarf with teal and tan stripes around her throat. She stares at me. She is an inch shorter than me and has dark blonde hair. Sunglasses hid her blue-green eyes. She does not smile as she takes in the sight of her boys following me as I make my way to the back of my car and open the hatch.
"Piper!" Mom smiles and comes down the steps of the house.
"That sounds like fun." I take my tan overnight bag and a bag with cards and simple presents I put together for the children from the back. "I want to put this inside and use the restroom first."
Mom comes down from the porch and gives me a hug. "How was your drive?"
"Good," I say.
"Are those presents for us?" Billy asks.
"Some are," I say.
"I like presents."
"I had a feeling you would," I fluff Billy's hair.
Danny runs to meet his dad as he and Dad have left the snowman.
"Hi, Dad."
As he reciprocates my hug. Susan makes her way down the steps and joins Danny and picks David up.
"Good drive," he asks.
"Where's Cal and family?" asks Danny.
Danny gives me a perfunctory embrace. "Goodall was being fussy. She's getting some new teeth so that's holding them up. They should be along soon." I tell everyone.
"To save gas, you could have come together," says Susan.
"I'm staying the night," I say. I can see she wants to ask why, but lets the question drop. "Where should I drop my things?" I ask Mom.
"Your room is set up for you."
"Thanks, Mom," I say. "I had too much tea." I nod at the door.
"Go ahead." Mom gives me a smile.
"You're coming back out?" Dad asks.
"Yes," I say. "Just give me a minute. I shoulder my bag and head for the two women.
As I climb the stairs I hear Danny ask. "A Chevy Volt. Dad, you didn't give her the money?"
"It's used and I helped Piper get a good deal. I only cosigned," Dad's voice replies as I heft my overnight bag onto my shoulder and press the knob on the storm doors. "Your sister has been working hard."
"I wouldn't trust her."
I step into the tiled foray and let the door close behind me and mutes Mom's reply, "Piper's trying." I sigh. Maybe I shouldn't have come. I breathe in and the scent of pine floods my senses.
To the left are Dad's study and down the hall, their master bedroom and bathroom. To the right, the living room, which is dominated by a huge spruce Christmas tree precisely decorated with a variety of ornaments, lights, and tinsel. Below it, boxes wrapped in paper patterned with candy canes, snowflakes, dancing reindeer, Nutcrackers, stripes, and holly. A couple boxes are done in solid gold and Santa red. I go over to the tree and kneel. I remove the gifts and cards I have brought with me and add them to the display. They aren't much, but as I set them down, I feel wistful and unsettled. I sigh and fold the bag I brought them in. I shoulder my overnight back and head towards the family room and kitchen. I find the staircase and head up to the second floor and the bedrooms. I turn right and go to the bedroom at the end of the hall and open the door. I enter and immediately nostalgia floods my senses.
My double bed, a birthday gift when I started high school. I had complained that my feet felt like they were hanging over the edge of my twin bed. Besides, Danny has a full bed. I wanted one, too. Made of maple, the bed has drawers and added storage underneath. The headboard has shelves. The bed is part of a set and came with a lamp table, a dresser with a mirror. They still stand where the furniture guys placed them. My pastel tie dyed comforter bedspread adorns the bed. To the left of the second window looking out front, stands a large pink, blue, and white plastic doll's house with the furniture neatly arranged. Inside are the little plastic people who live in the house. I drop my duffle on top of the bed and wander past my old desk where my mom's sewing machine now sits. I finger the sturdy plastic roof of the playhouse and peer into the living room at the couch and overstuffed easy chairs, all made of plastic, but in a bright blend of pink, yellow, and blue. I pick up the little woman figurine standing in the room. Also plastic, she wears a Donna Reed dress with pearls and heels. I scoff and return her to her spot. In one of the bedrooms, I spy a plastic girl. She wears jeans and a turtleneck. On the bed is a plastic lab. I stand up and look out the window and watch my nephews rolling the snow into big balls for their snowmen. The grownups have made their way to where the boys are playing. They watch the kids, but I can tell they are involved in a serious discussion. Danny points to my window and I step back. I remember I need to pee.
While my brothers shared a Jack and Jill set up, my bedroom has a three-piece en suite. Painted in light blue like my bedroom with simple white tiles and countertop, it was small, but functional. I pee and wash my hands. I dry them on the clean seashell patterned towels Mom had placed in the racks for my use. I balk at going back out. Making a snowman would be fun. Billy seems like fun and maybe I can get Danny to like me. However, the I don't want to face the judgmental attitudes of the grown ups. Dad's come around, some. Mom, too. I have no idea where Danny's head is, but his tone is fraught with resentment. I sigh and put my gloves back on.
"Auntie Piper!" Billy yells when he sees me walking across the snow-covered lawn.
Auntie? I chuckle.
"Did you pee?" He joins me and takes my hand.
"Yes, I did," I say.
"Come," he pulls, "We are making big snow balls for the snowman bottoms. I say, 'butt', but Mommy doesn't like that word," he whispers.
"Me, too," I snicker conspiratorially. They, even David, giggles. "Butt, butt, butt." They giggle even more. I take a quick peek at the grownups, who are still speaking among themselves. Mom is talking to Susan about one of the neighbors and Danny is discussing the impending football game between the Redskins and the Giants. I think Susan is hearing some of my unauthorized tutoring and stares disapprovingly, especially when the boys mimic the putt-putt rhythm of the way I say, butt-butt-butt-butt.
"Okay, guys, let's get going on your snowpeople. Who should I help?"
"Here," they yell, running to their individual projects.
Rubbing my gloved hands together I follow. "Okay, what do you want me to do?"
We set to work and I find myself engulfed in their projects. Instead of being their slave labor, I find material and show them what to do. They follow along and pretty soon we have three snow people on the rise.
"Arms?" asks David?
"Here!" Billy runs over to the side garden and brings back several skinny branches.
"Perfect." He hands me two, keeping two for himself.
"Where's mine?" asks David.
"Gotta get them for yourself."
"You're mean!"
"Hey, guys. David, you can have mine."
"Yours won't have arms," says Billy.
A series of honks captures our attention. I stand and wave at the older blue Subaru Forester turning into the drive.
"Who's that?" asks David.
"That is your Uncle Cal," I reply, "Aunt Neri and your little cousin Goodall."
"That's a weird name," says Billy.
"A little, but she was named for Jane Goodall, a very famous scientist. You want to meet her?"
"Yeah," they yell and dash off to the small SUV. Everyone else follows.
"You play well with the boys," Mom sidles up to me.
"I forgot how much fun it was to build a snowman," I say.
Having seen Cal and his family earlier in the morning, I hang back and let everyone else move in for hugs, handshakes, and back slapping.
"I guess you could have had a child or two of your own if you had stayed out of trouble and married Larry," says Susan, who has walked over to my side after giving Cal and Neri a cool hello.
I look at her, not knowing how to really respond. I finally sigh. "I'm happy for Larry and Polly. Larry's a great dad." I hold up my left hand. "Besides, I am married. I love my wife very much. You and Neri can have the kids. Maybe one day, Alex and I might have a kid or adopt, but I don't think that's likely. I think we'll be happy being the cool lesbian aunts." I walk towards Cal's family. "Hey, Cal!" I hug him with genuine affection. "You certainly took your time."
The snowball fight begins calmly enough when Neri hits Cal with a secretly formed projectile. Shock and dismay blossoms into an evil leer as Cal immediately counterattacks. Neri retaliates. Cal, not wanting to leave me out of the fun, scores with a hit on my right shoulder. Snow crystals cover the front of my right breast. Billy and David enter the fray hitting one another, then Cal and Neri, then finally me. I fire at Cal. "Get them again," I urge my nephews to team up with me as I quickly shape another snowball and throw it at Cal. Cal hits me back. Then Neri and the boys, including Cal, A blizzard of snowy missiles fills the air.
Neri cocks her arm and fires and before I can duck, a loosely packed ball of snow smashes and disintegrates against the side of my head. Billy and David, my defenders, hit her with two small snow grenades. They explode on the back of her coat. Cal gets even for one of my earlier assaults and stuffs a handful of snow between my back and my sweater. "Cal!" I scream. Fuck that's cold. I should have known. Then he does the same to Neri and his nephews.
The melee rages with shrieks and laughter as we race around the yard, careful to avoid toppling the 5 snow person family, actually six, since Neri made a snow mama holding a baby. I help Neri gang up on Cal. Billy helps Cal and throws successive balls at me. David throws at Billy, and Billy gets back at David. And, so it goes.
"Piper! … Cal!" Mom calls from the porch.
I pause and am hit in the head with a snowball. I wipe the snow off and reach down to make a snowball so I can throw it at Billy's fleeing backside.
"Piper! … Cal!"
"Hey, guys." Cal says as the grownups in our war stop throwing missiles.
"Yeah, I see her," I say. I juggle my newly formed snowball in my hand. Cal throws the one in his hand at Neri. "I guess we should go in."
"Dinner!" Mom calls.
"Goodall, probably needs a quick bottle." Neri bounces the remaining snowball in her hand.
"I don't know about you, but I'm hungry." Cal takes a step toward the house. "Coming, Mom," he calls to her.
"All of you are a mess. Use the mud porch." Content that she has delivered her orders and that we are going to obey, Mom disappears back into the house and closes the main door. No, we should definitely not enter via the foray.
Neri and I hit Cal. So do the nephews. More snowballs are made and thrown as we head towards the back of the house. We don't get to do this in Brooklyn. There really is no place to play in Flatbush where Neri and Cal rent their two-bedroom brownstone.
"Piper, you are so bad," Neri laughs as we enter the mud porch.
"That was cold." Billy is dancing around as he removes his coat.
Cal hangs his coat on one of the pegs fastened to the wall near the door. "Need help, guys," he offers Billy and David.
"No, I got mine," says Billy.
"That was so much fun," says David with enthusiasm.
"Who knew aunts and uncles could be so fun?" says Billy. He hands Cal his coat. Susan steps out into the mud room. "Uncle Jim doesn't play with us."
"No." David agrees. I take his and hang it on a third peg.
"That's because he acts like an adult," says Susan.
"Boots off guys," Cal says as he pulls his off. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Cal and I play with Goodall all of the time. Play is crucial for childhood development," adds Neri. "I've been reading up on it."
"And for adults as well," I say.
"I guess you have nannies for that," finishes Cal.
Susan corrects Cal, "The boys have a governess. Dan and I have jobs with long hours and my parents and brother have the church. Having four thousand congregants and a teleministry – well, they are busy and must act accordingly. Come on, boys. You need to get cleaned up." She snaps her finger. "Align those galoshes better." They do. "Come on. Grandma Chapman has worked hard making a nice meal for us." She leads them out.
"I think she means Rosalie," Cal comments.
Rosalie is Mom's housekeeper. Mom has paid her extra to cook the meal, bake the pies, and clean up afterward.
"Smug bitch," I mutter under my breath while I place my boots behind my nephews'. "I'm going up to wash."
As I leave, I hear Neri tell Cal, "I see why Piper's so reluctant to come home for the holidays."
"That's why I like it when we do our own thing, but Mom really wanted this."
Everyone is in the family room when I come back down. Dad is holding Goodall in his arms. Under their Grandpa Chapman's guidance, Billy and David are finally having their first good look at their baby cousin. Neri, Cal, and Susan are having an informal debate on the proper way to raise children. Team organic, all natural, Montessori-style, goddess worship paganism confounds and exasperates the conservative Christian Republican priviledged propriety of team Susan. Danny interjects occasionally as Mom mediates the discussion, but Danny is generally focused on the Redskins and Giants. A Giants fan since childhood, his in-laws have swayed him to root for the Redskins, which are favored by many Virginians. Even though I am an agnostic secular humanist and agree with Cal and Neri on many issues, I have no desire to enter the fray.
I see Rosalie working in the kitchen. I pass the perfectly coiffed table in the dining room to the left behind the stairs and take a seat at the bar. Rosalie is rinsing out a pot.
"Hello, mija," she says.
"¡Hola, Rosalie!," I reply.
She smiles and in Spanish I ask if I can help her with anything. She shakes her head and asks how I am doing. We chat quietly as she works. Rosalie's family is from Guatemala and immigrated to the U.S. over twenty years ago. Her husband works for a cable company. Her eldest daughter, who is a few years younger than me, is married with three children. She works as a nurse for a clinic in town. Rosalie has two more daughters. One teaches preschool and the other is a dental hygienist and engaged to be married. She has a son that she does not speak about. Her youngest is still in high school. It was Rosalie who inspired me to learn Spanish when I was in middle school. She wanted to improve her English and in turn she taught me Spanish. I continued in high school and in college. Tomorrow, she plans to go with her children and grandchildren to New York. They will take the Metro to Grand Central in Manhattan and go window shopping and have lunch. When she fills a serving dish with roasted Brussel sprouts, I take the bowl and ferry it into the adjacent dining room.
Rosalie removes the prime rib from the roasting pan and places it on the stove. She turns on two burners and whisks a slurry of flour and water into the pan to make the gravy. Mashed potatoes are piled high in another large serving dish. I take it over to the table.
As she works on the gravy and places some cooked peas and pearl onions into another serving dish, this one smaller than the one with the potatoes, our conversation moves past her children to the trip she is taking after the New Year to Guatemala to visit her parents, who are aging. They live with her older sister, who also has developed some health issues. With her children setting up their homes, she wants her parents and sister, who never married, to come to Connecticut and live with them.
"Will you have enough space?" I ask in Spanish.
"My sister is going to use the boys' room and my parents will have the girls' rooms. They will have their own room. They cannot share the same bed any more. Both have health needs and often rest at different times."
"What about Carlos?"
"We are turning the garage into a bedroom for Carlos. He is so excited."
"I bet." I laugh with her.
From the living room I hear Daniel and the kids raising their voices. Their new cousin has become old news and they have begun rough-housing, tackling one another like the football players they see on television.
I hear Susan, "Dan, calm them." Pause. "Football is so barbaric."
"I played in high school and college," says Dan. "Except for a broken collar bone my junior year, it didn't harm me at all."
"Dan went to UV on a football scholarship," Dad says proudly. "We only had to pay for his room and board and some incidentals."
Roasalie speaks softly, still in Spanish, "Can, I ask you … you don't have to answer if you don't want …"
"Rosalie, you can ask me anything."
"It might be embarrassing."
"Yes, I was in prison," I tell her, guessing the question. I thought she knew.
"Yes, yes. You went for drugs."
"Yes." I say. Rosalie is right. I am embarrassed by my admission.
"I never thought you were that kind of girl. Take drugs."
"Only a little," I admit. Some recreational, never anything hard, except once, but that's not why I went. I smuggled some money."
"Oh." She lowers the flames under the gravy and opens the oven, removing a couple of trays of freshly baked croissant rolls.
"For your girlfriend?"
"At the time."
She tips the tray into a basket.
She lowers her voice further. "I was wondering if you could speak to Miguel." Miguel is a couple of years older than Carlos. "His father threw him out last year for drinking and taking drugs. I have heard that he is helping his friends move, is that the right word, move?" I nod my head. "He is picking up drugs from some boss in the city or New Jersey, and bringing them and selling them around Connecticut."
"He's crossing state borders. That's federal. He'll end up in a federal prison if caught and convicted I tell her."
She nods.
I pick up the bowl of rolls and take them over to the table.
"Piper." Mom has walked over. "Why aren't you with the family?"
"I wanted to help. Visit with Rosalie."
"We're having a family gathering. You haven't seen Danny in years."
I set the rolls on the table. "He could have stayed outside and played with us and his boys, but he came in here instead. He's watching football." I can see Mom is flustered at my truth. "Besides, I haven't seen Rosalie either."
"Mrs. Chapman," Rosalie interrupts us. The roast and gravy are ready for the table.
"Oh," Mom turns away and walks toward the kitchen bar. "Yes. You can bring them to the table." Mom walks back into the family room. "Dinner's ready."
I go back to the kitchen and find a scrap of paper and pen in the drawer by the portable cradled house phone. I write my phone number down. "Este es el numero de mi celular," I say. "Me mudaré a Ohio justo después de Navidad, en poco más de una semana, pero puedes llamarme cuando quieras. Podemos hablar más, en privado. Si hay algo que pueda hacer."
Roasalie pours the gravy into two egg-shell white porcelain gravy boats. She places silver ladles in each.
"Antes de que te vayas, si pudieras hablar con él. Hágale saber acerca de lo que puede pasar, usted experimentó."
I have to think for a moment. "Voy a visitar a un amigo mío mañana. Todavía estoy trabajando para mi papá en Brooklyn y–"
"Puedo llevarlo a Brooklyn después del trabajo un día de la próxima semana. Reúnase en algún lugar."
"Piper," my Mom calls my name as the family goes into the dining room. "Danny, turn the television off."
"Mom this is an important game," he almost whines.
"Coming, Mom. Rosalie, Cuando sepas cuándo puedes conseguir que te acompañe, llámame." I hand her the slip of paper with my number. "Podemos ir desde allí y establecer una hora y un lugar para encontrarnos."
"Gracias, mija."
"Cualquier momento," I take and squeeze her hand. Mom comes around the counter as I pick up the two gravy boats.
"Go sit," Mom says.
I return to the table and set gravy boats at each end. I sit next to Cal, who is holding Goodall in his lap. I sit at the end adjacent to Danny, who occupies the end opposite our dad. This is the position of the eldest son, the good son. The spot also has the best view of the television, which is still on.
Mom catches Dad's eye. "Drum roll," he orders.
Everyone, except Goodall and Susan, beats the table with their hands. Mom walks in, proudly with the platter holding the huge roast.
"Wow!" the boys say in unison.
"Magnificent!" Dad beams. Mom sets the platter in front of his place setting.
"That looks wonderful," Danny and Susan agree. Danny's eyes flick back to the television.
"Yeah!" I say with less enthusiasm. I call into the kitchen, "¡Rosalie, la comida se ve deliciosa!"
Dad agrees, "Yes, marvelous, Rosalie."
Mom gives me a quick evil eye and then goes back to the kitchen. "Rosalie, go ahead and go."
"I thought you wanted me to stay to clean up?" she asks.
Mom replies, "Tomorrow. I'll pay you a bonus."
"No, we can clean up," I say in English.
"Maybe she would like a little extra income?"Mom gives Rosalie a nod.
"I'm sorry, but my family is going to Manhattan for our annual Christmas trip," Rosalie says. She gives me a smile. She would have acquiesced to Mom. With my offer she has her freedom.
"Oh," says Mom. "That sounds like fun."
"Don't worry. We'll clean up," I say.
"What about presents?" asks Billie. "Grandma said we'd open presents after dinner."
"Neri, Cal, your mom, and I will make quick work of it. You shouldn't have to wait too long," I assure Billy.
"I don't know where anything goes," says Susan.
"Mom can sit at the counter and supervise. It should be fun."
Rosalie unties her apron and wishes the family a Merry Christmas and returns to the kitchen.
"Pásalo genial y Feliz Navidad si no te veo antes."
Rosalie stops. "Gracias, mija," she says to me.
"Why do you keep speaking in Spanish?" Danny asks.
"Practicing," I say.
"This country speaks English."
"And other languages as well." I reach for the dish of rolls. "Don't you have any Spanish speakers as patients?"
"Piper, grace," Susan's word gives me pause. She takes Danny's and Billy's hands.
"Why yes," Mom takes Billy and David's hands. "Dad?"
"Oh? Certainly," he clears his throat. He pauses. We only do this when Susan and Danny visit. He starts, "Thank you, Lord," he remembers his lagging Episcapalian indoctrination and goes into a prayer thanking God for the food and having all of his children and grandchildren together for the first time after many years apart.
Gawd, this takes me back to Camp and Pennsatucky. I giggle inappropriately when I remember how I tried to pray with Penn so she would stop targeting me. Dear Jesus. Tucky thought I was being too familiar. Dear Mr. Christ, I tried. I just wanted her to go away. I know that I've done some things recently," I had continued, "that have been up to your standards," and to be honest, they hadn't. Janea Watson, a resident of the Ghetto, Alex and I had gotten the methhead to believe that she could cure people by laying her hands on people and praying. When I left a hardened wheelchair bound participant in the Scared Straight program in the suburb bathroom, I had sicked the hillbilly on her. As a result, Pennsatucky was sent to Psych. Eventually, I admitted to Caputo what I had done. I served my penance cleaning toilets at night for two weeks while everyone else slept. I did feel ashamed, and for some reason when Tucky returned to camp, she set about evangelizing me. To get her to go away, I told her that I would pray with her. It was one of the few times I prayed while at Litchfield. For the meth head my prayer was not enough. She decided that I needed baptizing as well. I almost went along with her demand, but just couldn't do it. That made me an even bigger target. That prayer, after when Sister Ingalls said she would have looped in the Virgin, to cover her basis, that memory makes me chuckle now.
Susan shoots me a glare.
"Amen," repeats everyone, except for me, when Dad ends grace.
I smile. "Sorry," I say. I reach for the butter dish, which sits in front of me.
Susan stares at me for a beat and then takes the bowl of rolls. She places one on her plate, and one on Billy's and her husband's. "Mom?" She passes the bowl over Billy's head to Mom. She takes hers and places one of David's plate. The boys are hungry from play and bite into the warm, butter laden crescent of flakiness.
Dad stands and slices the roast with the carving knife and fork that Rosalie had placed earlier on the table. Chatter is light as plates and serving dishes get passed. Hungry, I tuck in to my food. It is delicious. I have always loved Rosalie's cooking. Mom's is good, but Rosalie is excellent.
Most of the discussion revolves around Danny's and Susan's medical practices. Danny is a neurosurgeon. Susan is a cardiothoracic surgeon. Susan and Danny met at Johns Hopkins Medical School. By the end of their first year, they were engaged. It turned out that they had used the same methodology to determine their undergraduate and medical school options. They used the same in determining their specialties. They looked up which specialties had the highest incomes. Then they flipped a coin to decide which each would pursue. Danny won neurosurgeon, which had the highest income. Susan was ranked number two. In my opinion, it doesn't really matter as according to Danny, in this very conversation, they have made over a million dollars each this year alone.
"Wow," Cal mutters.
"Brother, if you could get your life together, you could be doing just as well."
Neri replies, "Before Goodall came along, I made a couple hundred grand."
"We also run a vintage clothing business export company," says Cal. "Our market is in Korea and they can't get enough. In the last three years Neri and I have been averaging over a hundred thousand."
"I'll be going back in the spring to my welding gig. I mean. Cal's going to be a stay at home Dad and keep up our other endeavors. Cal might not be a doctor, but we do well."
I am a bit gobsmacked. I never knew they were doing so well. I pay rent and Neri nickels and dimes me for every other expense. When I first moved she had wanted me to pay what turning the room into an AirBnB would have earned. Calvin talked her out of that.
Susan interrupts a break in the conversation. "So, Piper showed me her 'wedding ring'." Yes, she made air quotes with her hands. "No one said anything about you being married. When did that happen? I thought Larry broke up with you."
"He did and he is with Polly. They are expecting a baby."
"Polly, your best friend?" asks Danny.
"The same," I reply. I plop a forked Brussel sprout into my mouth.
"That must have been difficult." Danny sounds sympathetic.
The table focuses on me, except for Billy and David who are putting their peas into the gravy pond they created out of their mashed potatoes. I glance at the gravy pond I have created on my plate. Some of my peas and onions float in mine too. "It was at first, but now I'm really happy for them. They really love one another and Larry is a great father." I have not actually apologized. I need to do that. I was so mean, and the flaming bag of feces. I have never asked Neri where the feces came from. I glance at Neri sitting on the other side of Cal. I should ask her.
"So who did you marry?" asks Danny.
"Alex," I say.
"Isn't that the person you ran drugs with?" Danny asks incredulously.
"I never ran any drugs. Neither did Alex. She oversaw a network of mules for her boss," I correct.
"That's splitting hairs," says Dad. "She smuggled drugs and dragged you into it."
"I knew what I was doing. Alex didn't put a gun to my head. I wanted to be with her."
"Why?" asks Danny.
"I loved her. I've always loved her."
"Even when you were with Larry?"
"Yes. I called one night while Larry was sleeping. I was missing her," my shoulders shrug, "I left a message. We never spoke, but. … then ... in camp."
"Camp?"
"Do you like camping?" asks Billy. "I like camping."
"No, Billy," Susan speaks tartly. "Your Aunt Piper is a criminal. She went to prison, not camp. She did not go camping."
"Wow!" Billy is not afraid. He seems impressed. "Did you rob a bank?"
"No. I carried a suitcase of money from Colombia to Belgium … once." I take a bite of my potatoes. My gravy dam breaks. Gravy flows out into my Brussel sprouts.
"A large suitcase?"
"Pretty large, but the money was in the lining."
"And you got through customs," Danny takes a sip of wine.
I chuckle. "Yeah," not telling him how I naively had missed customs or how Alex thanked me that night.
"So, the ring?"
"Alex and I prison married the morning I got out."
"Prison married?"
"Nicky, our best friend, married us. Lorna witnessed." I show my left hand. "And yes, it is a keyring. CO Luschek donated it to the cause." I remove the ring I have been wearing on my right hand since Friday, yesterday. "This is Alex's."
"I haven't notice that one," says Cal.
"It came yesterday."
"Obviously, she doesn't consider you married any more," says Mom.
"No. She gave me my freedom. I don't want my freedom and Alex didn't send me the ring. Nicky did. She says there is a story, but she didn't want to tell me in the letter."
"Why not?"
"The COs go through our mail."
"Why would that be a problem?"
"It simply is," I reply.
"So that is why you are going to Litchfield?"
"Yes, and I miss Nicky. I want to see how everyone's doing? The family."
"What family?"
"Nicky, Lorna, Red, though I fucked up – "
"Piper!" Mom warns me, pointing at my nephews, who are now looking at me.
"Red – accidentally."
"Red," asks Cal.
"My prison mom. She taught me so many lessons."
"I thought Grandma is your mommy?" Billy is confused
"That's why I don't want her around Billy and David. She is a criminal. A homosexual. She's confusing the boys."
"Listen," I can't help myself. Snarky Piper has come to the surface. "I did something that broke the law. I confessed. I went to prison. I served my time," I teach. "I don't like to label myself and while the general public uses the word 'gay' interchangably with homosexual, officially the guys are gay. The gals are lesbians. I am bisexual" I look over at my nephews. "This means that I like boys and girls, but," I let my gaze float around the table until it lands on Cal and my parents, "I find that I tend to be drawn to women more than men. Now, as for Alex; she is a lesbian, hard core. Except to get out of a dangerous situation, she would never sleep with or go down on a guy." I look at Cal and Neri. "We had this conversation about who would give," I need to keep this clean. I agree this part of my conversation is not age appropriate for the young ears of my interested nephews. "You know," I say to Neri and Cal, motioning with my hands and shrug.
Cal's face goes wide with recognition. "Oh, the CO."
"Baxter," Neri comes up with his name. "Isn't he the one who killed the black inmate?"
"Poussey, her murder caused the riot. He smuggled out the panties."
"What?" Every other adult is stunned.
"You were smuggling in prison?"
"Just panties and I was using fabric Whispers was just going to throw away anyway."
Neri said. "Baxter was a nice kid."
"He was, so naive, just a big puppy," I say.
"Obviously, prison didn't reform you," Susan says sternly.
"I didn't need to be reformed," I say. "For a while, I lost myself."
"That was your gangsta phase?" asks Cal.
"Yes. Even Alex couldn't stand me. She broke up with me. Then sh–," I stop myself. My nephews. "Things happened." I pull up the sleeve on my right arm and display the scar of my shame. "This was a swastika. The Dominican gang gave it to me. Red," I feel tears welling up as I recount the story. I haven't told anyone this. "Red, with the help of Norma, her friend, and Alex, who held me so I wouldn't move, burned in the lines to turn it into a window." I trace the lines with a finger. "Alex didn't have to be there. I'd cheated on her. That's another story." I pull the sleeve up on my left arm.
"What's it say?"
"Trust no bitch." I pull the sleeve down.
"Oh, the Aussie who stole our money," Cal remembers.
"Yeah."
"And don't you have an infinity sign and fish?" asks Neri.
"The happy fish I got for Alex when we were together on Java when she got one that says Love is pain. The infinity symbol, I made that one myself." I point to my left side. "Surprisingly, it could have gotten infected. The Trust no bitch one as well. The swastika was when Red finally saw it. She was my cube mate at the time. I want to see how she's doing. We became estranged after the riot. Lorna, too. They were my friends. And some of the girls from the Ghetto, especially Tastee and Susanne, Crazy Eyes. That is her nickname. They're my friends." I am rambling. I twist Alex's ring and look up. I wipe my eyes.
"Are you going to try to see Alex, too?" asks Danny. His voice has softened.
"She's not at Litchfield any more. She was transferred to Ohio. That is why she gave me my freedom. She wants me to live my life."
"Which is very nice of her," says Mom.
"I would say good riddance and get right with Jesus," says Susan.
"That's just what Pennsatucky would say," my gaze snaps onto Susan.
"And who's that?" she asks.
"An uneducated homophobic hillbilly meth head, who broke Alex's glasses and tried to stab me with a shived cross while wearing her angel costume from the Christmas pageant. I used the defensive moves Taystee, Cindy, and Poussey taught me and nearly beat her to death." I let my gaze leave Susan and float around the table. I add with a touch of humor in my voice, "Luckily, Susanne was having one of her manic moments and knocked me out. I spent Christmas and the first three weeks of January in solitary for that. If Susanne had not come along, I probably would still be serving time. Luckily, Penn got new teeth and she changed. Much less evangelical and she even became good friends with Boo, the camp's reigning butch." I look at Susan. More Homo 101. "Butches have this masculine persona. They aren't transgendered, but they have many manly qualities. They are aggressors when it comes to sex. They are tops and like to be the one who goes down." Susan looks at her sons. I do, too. They have returned to their food.
"Are you butch?" Danny asks.
"God, no." I laugh. "Alex is." I close my eyes and breathe. I see Alex in my head.
"Piper?" Mom wakes me.
"Sorry. I miss her. I miss touching her. Getting out of prison was great. Prison was horrible, but for her, I would have stayed. We're Vauseman," I say quietly. "I love her so much. She is my life and because of that," I sit up straighter. I did not plan on doing this this way, but, "after Christmas, I'm leaving." I look at Cal and Neri. "Goodall will have her own room." Goodall has fallen asleep against Cal's chest. Her head rests against his left arm. I take her little hand for a moment. "Make it up the way you want or rent it out for an AirBnB."
"You're going after her?" Dad lets anger and disappointment slip through.
"I have to. I'm not leaving her. If you and Mom found yourself in the same situation, wouldn't you follow one another? Danny," I turn to him and Susan, "you didn't come back to the tri-state area, you followed Susan to Virginia."
I see Mom and Dad nodding their heads, especially Mom. Her expression is sad.
"You don't have to worry." I look at Mom and Dad. "I have a job that I will be starting the Monday after the New Year."
"Where?" Dad asks.
"Starbucks."
"How'd you get that job?" he asks.
"Online. I had a phone interview. They called Joanne at Dad's office for references. I have a one-bedroom apartment close to work. I've also been accepted as an L1 at Benjamin Harrison Law. I start the second week of January." I look at my parents.
"I guess you expect your Dad to pay for everything," says Susan
Cal casually looks at Susan, "Even though Danny had a scholarship to Stanford, Dad still paid for his room and board, supplies, and an allowance, plus airfare a couple times a year so he could come home." Cal looks at Danny as he continues, "then for Johns Hopkins he paid all your expenses, including tuition and your apartment. You never worked. And, Susan, what about your –"
"Enough," commands Mom. "We said when you were growing up that we would cover your college educational expenses. That included grad school. We provided for Danny as we promised. We paid for Smith for Piper. We would have paid for you Cal."
"I know," Cal says. "I just think it's awesome that Piper has gotten into law school. She has already gotten a job and found an apartment."
"I agree," Dad says with a nod. "I remember you speaking to me about law school a few weeks ago. I told you," he speaks to me, "that I would pay for school and books if you got in. I didn't think it would be this quick or … no, when you didn't go with Zelda to North Hampton."
"I'm married. I'm not giving up, just as Mom didn't give up." Dad blinks and gazes at Mom. "I'm not giving up on me and Alex. I am moving to Cleveland. I have a job. I'll be making enough to pay rent and such. I just need help with the first, last, and deposit and, I wish I could do it all on my own, but law school. If need be, I'll sign any promissory you want to pay it back once I'm out and making –"
Dad interrupts, "a question first."
"Sure." I nod.
"I don't remember you taking the LSAT exam."
"It wasn't required."
"Not required?"
"I read that law schools are starting to abandon the test. It is not a good measure of success. I was lucky and found one in Cleveland."
"This is the first I've heard you mention law school," says Mom.
"What will you do if Alex doesn't take you back?"
"I will not abandon her?" asks Mom.
"What kind of law?" asks Dad,
"Criminal," I say, "and civil rights."
"Figures," scoffs Susan.
"Most of the women I met at Litchfield, especially in camp, were not 'criminals'." I use air quotes, "They took the fall for their husbands and boyfriends. Many were addicts or came from the street. Many have mental disorders or lack socio-economic opportunities."
"They," Danny starts.
I interrupt, "You can't judge them. We come from the dominant, white – and yes, I said white – privilege. We are blind. I was blind. Earlier this evening, I said prison did not reform me. I did something stupid, once. Even Alex finally managed to get free of Kubra. She hadn't worked for him in years. She didn't need to be reformed either. Fuck! Sorry, sorry – no, for me prison was graduate school. It forced me to examine who I was. I underwent an evolution, hopefully for the best, and I know I'm not done. God," I snort, "Alex can probably give you a list of my faults. So can Red and Nicky. You know, they and all of the other women, they taught me so much. I want to keep learning, improving. I have so much to learn, and I don't mean law. I mean about myself, but I am working on it. I am a work in progress. I know what I want to be now. Who I want to be. I'm not there yet, but I am working real hard."