Food was complicated.

Granted most things were complicated when Lorna was involved, but food was especially so.

Growing up, whenever her parents thought Lorna or her siblings were being unnecessarily difficult, they would remind their children about how they had grown up dirt poor in Sicily. Where there was never enough food on the table to feed all the babies every Italian was predestined to have. But here in America, where Lorna's father was a foreman for a construction company up in the Bronx, they had plenty of food. Lorna's mother, before she was bedridden at least, was strict, never allowing them to leave the table until their plates were empty.

And Lorna was never skinny, not like Franny. Franny had always been the tall, thin, beautiful one with thick brown waves that spilled down past her shoulders. The one who all the boys in the neighborhood used to wait outside school for and give their golden chains to so that everyone knew she was theirs.

Now Lorna knew she was not fat. It was just that she was petite and the weight seemed to stubbornly stick to her stomach and thighs in a way it never did to Franny. Then, when she began to grow into her somewhat ample bosom, which was larger than Franny's and she was initially so excited about, her mother quickly dragged her to the mall and bought her a wardrobe of shapeless dresses and blouses that concealed her figure. Because vanity was a sin. Just like pre-marital sex and Daddy was not paying for another wedding. Not since Franny got knocked up last year and had to marry Jack down the block.

As Lorna stared in the mirror, at the ugly paisley dress that seemed to swallow her whole, and tugged on the hem so it was flush against her and she could see the outline of her protruding stomach, she began to cry because no one was going to love her looking like this.

That was when it had started.

By the time Lorna was 16, Franny, with her second baby on her hip, took Lorna to the local mall. She let her try on all the beautiful expensive clothes, like everything she had seen Baby wear the week before when she saw "Dirty Dancing". Then Franny bought her a couple outfits from the clearance section, including a gorgeous red taffeta dress and a matching lipstick for her to wear to the dance that night in the church basement.

And like a movie, that is the night she met her first love, Joey. Who always told her that she looked beautiful and so for the first time in years, Lorna did not even need to slip into the bathroom after her mother forced her to swallow down forkful after forkful of baked ziti.

Then, Joey broke up with her for that whore Lucia and the only thing that stopped her from slapping that slut in the face outside of school was knowing that once she made herself pretty again, Joey would come back to her.

It was not all the time because it was not like she had a problem or anything. But sometimes, when she was sad or lonely, it just felt good. It was like a ritual, to slip away from dinner and take her toothbrush from its hiding place under the sink and just sit next to the toilet until she felt blissfully empty. Then, once she had rinsed out her mouth and wiped away her tears, she would reapply her lipstick and sneak out the back door to sit in the back of a darkened theater and watch love stories unfold before her. All the while envisioning her own future love.

As she got older, Lorna developed other ways to feel better, like shoplifting and then online scams, and then, Christopher.

Lorna's first day of prison was scary, which she had expected. After they marched her off the van and into the small grey room with one empty bed and three glaring roommates, Lorna bit back her tears and held her head high, glaring back. Her brother Mikey had warned her that she needed to toughen up, though he had only spent a couple nights in the drunk tank in Brooklyn. Not years in a prison four hours away.

Lorna is smoothing her blanket down when a guard with a thick mustache and a badge that reads "Mendez" swaggers into the room. The other girls quiet down and avert their eyes as he begins whistling and nudging open desk drawers with his baton. When he seemingly does not find what he is looking for, he slams the drawer shut with a bang and sidles up to Lorna.

"Well, aren't you a pretty one," he whispers in her ear, pushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear with the baton. "What's your vice, little girl?" Lorna cringes, but is saved from responding by a throat clearing.

They both glance up to see a heavyset woman with thick blue eyeshadow standing in the doorway.

He smirks and leans down to exaggeratedly sniff Lorna's hair before turning to the door. "10 minutes to count, Inmates," he barks on his way out.

Lorna releases a shaky breath and plops down on her bunk.

"What's your name?" the woman asks in a thick Brooklyn accent that makes Lorna instantly homesick.

"Lorna."

The woman smiles kindly at her, moving into the room. "Last name, honey."

"Morello," she whispers.

"Oh, a fellow Italian," the woman laughs, shaking her head. "That's nice. Haven't gotten another one of those in awhile. I'm DeMarco. From Bensonhurst, though the family was originally in Sheepshead Bay before we got pushed out by the Russians, but don't tell Red I told ya that. She's still a bit touchy about it. What about you? Brooklyn too?"

Lorna nods, twisting her hands in the loose, bright orange fabric of her pants.

DeMarco smiles again and places a wrapped toothbrush and soap on the bed next to Lorna. "Don't worry, kid," she says softly. "The first night is always the longest." With a pat to the knee, she turns and disappears back into the din of the crowded hallway.

That night, sobs echo down the hallway as Lorna slips into the bathroom with the toothbrush hidden up her sleeve.

Christopher never comes to visit. Lorna is not surprised. He had been so mad the last time she had seen him, but she knew he loved her and that eventually he would see reason. Little setbacks like that could not keep down true love.

In the meantime, she just had to keep herself looking nice. It is hard, because her parents are not speaking to her and Franny can only spare so much for her commissary. But Lorna ties her hair up at night in toilet paper like her mother used to for her cousin's weddings and makes herself a lip balm from kool aid and Vaseline. Since there are people surrounding her at all times, it makes it difficult to sneak into the stalls with her toothbrush. Eventually she figures out that if she goes very late at night, once everyone is asleep, it is almost always empty, except for the one they call Crazy Eyes. But Crazy Eyes never seems to notice, usually muttering to herself as she drags the mop across the floor.

Things slowly start getting better. She is assigned to work in the kitchen, which is nice. It reminds her of home on Sundays after church, cooking lasagna with her mother and Franny while the boys watched football in the living room. Red has her prepping, cleaning and cutting the vegetables with Norma. Lorna likes Norma. She is the only one who does not roll her eyes when Lorna talks about Christopher.

After a few weeks, Red begins passing Lorna yogurts after her shifts and invites her to sit with her girls at mealtimes. It is nice to have friends, to not be so alone all the time, even if Nicky constantly mocks her every time she speaks.

"And I told her that I don't care if Judy King said violets are the flowers of the season, I am not having them at my wedding," Lorna says, emphasizing with a spoonful of oatmeal. "Adrianna from three blocks over told me that she had been pushing violets and carnations since she had accidentally ordered fifteen boxes of each because she can't see anymore, you know the glaucoma." Nicky drops her head on the table and Boo pretends to stab herself in they eye with a fork so Lorna focuses more on Gina and Norma. "But I told her I am only buying roses and lilacs for my wedding, because it's gonna be classy, and if you think you are gonna pass off those cheap weeds on me, you are barking up the wrong bush."

"Tree," Nicky mutters, peaking out from between her arms.

"What?" Lorna asks, ignoring Boo's snort.

"It's barking up the wrong tree, not bush," Nicky says, sitting up and pushing her wild mane off of her face.

Lorna shakes her head, thinking back, "I don't know, I've seen more dogs barking at bushes than trees."

Nicky stares at her, "Are you fucking kidding me, or are you really this much of a dingbat?"

"Are you always this rude?" Lorna shoots back, crossing her arms.

"Don't mind her," Gina whispers, nodding to Nicky's shaking hands. "She's having a bad week." Nicky glares and flips her off.

"Though I do have to agree," Boo chimes in, picking up her tray. "If anyone knows about bush, it would be Lezzie Borden here. And moi, of course. Though, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to better and more shapely ventures." She turns and follows a trail of orange clad newbies, honing in on one Lorna is pretty sure was named Mercy.

"Well," Lorna says, brightening, "I was also thinking sunflowers. I know, it's a little unusual, but Christopher always said I reminded him of a sunflower and they had so many in the store last time I went."

"What does it matter?" Nicky asks, also standing with her tray. "By the time you get out of here, the flowers will all be dead and Christopher will have moved on to another blossoming rosebud, trust me."

Lorna looks away angrily, tears gathering in her eyes, and only manages a small smile when Norma sympathetically pats her hand.

Christopher had changed his phone number. He had changed his number and not told her. How could she have fallen for someone who would pretend to love someone and then do that to them.

She had paced her bunk until lights out, ignoring her bunkmate's glares, and once everyone had fallen asleep, pulls the toothbrush from under her mattress and sneaks to the bathroom.

Hearing movement, she looks down, not in the mood to make nonsensical small talk with Crazy Eyes, and walks quickly towards the stalls.

"Well, well, well, looky what we have here."

Lorna locks eyes with a smirking Nicky, standing in a shower stall with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. She has to drag her eyes away from Nicky's lips, which causes Nicky's smile to broaden.

Lorna stands straighter, "You're not supposed to be smoking."

"And you're not supposed to be walking around after lights out," Nicky counters, dropping her cigarette and stamping it out. "I guess we're both being bad, huh?"

Sniffing, Lorna walks over to the sink and turns on the water. "I'm just here to brush my teeth."

"Really?" Nicky breathes, sidling up against her and wrapping an arm around her back. "I get that, just a bit of clean up after a midnight rendezvous with a hot, pink, moist…"

Lorna pushes her away with a glare, "I'm engaged."

Nicky rolls her eyes. "I know. We all know. Shit, I'm pretty sure Jimmy knows by this point and she thinks it's 1947 and that Boo is her husband, which granted, is hitting the dyke on the head, if you ask me, but we get it. You're desperately in love, rainbows and butterflies and all that bullshit."

"Why are you so mean to me?" Lorna asks, silently cursing herself as she feels her lower lip quivering and a tear dripping down her face.

Nicky sighs, her whole stance softening as she looks at Lorna. Really looks at her, studying her for so long that Lorna begins to fidget. "You're right. I'm sorry. But I get it ya know. Being away from the one thing you love, need, crave, whatever." Nicky wipes away the tear and Lorna inhales, breathing in her scent, tamping down on a shiver.

"And in here," she continues, sliding a finger down Lorna's arm, "you've got nothing but time to dwell on it until it consumes you. So why not help each other out? I keep your mind off him, and you keep mine off mine. A little tit," she murmurs, brushing her lips against Lorna's neck, "for tat. What to do you say?"

"I've never…" Lorna stutters as Nicky surges forward and slides her hand beneath Lorna's oversized sleep shirt.

"Don't worry," Nicky chuckles, guiding them back until Lorna's back hits the wall of the closest shower stall. "I'm an expert." Panting, Lorna rocks against her as the sweet friction begins to blossom into the tingling throb she always envisioned would be her wedding night with Christopher.

It crashes over her in a crescendo with a series of moans that leaves her weak-kneed and clinging to Nicky. Nicky leans back and laughs. "Look at you, kid, one orgasm and you fall apart. I shoulda known that hetero living was detrimental to your health." Lorna smiles, reaching out to wipe the red dyed lip balm off Nicky's cheek.

Nicky winds a hand in her shirt and pulls Lorna close again. "What do you say? Second verse same as the first?"

And it is not until hours later, once Lorna has snuck back into her bunk, sated and giggling, that she remembers she left her toothbrush on the sink.

Days move by slowly in prison, but they also get easier. Eventually, Red moves her out of the kitchen and onto van duty, greeting the newcomers and reporting back to Red any potential incoming problems. The day Red hands her a stack of toothbrushes, Lorna stiffens in panic that her secret had finally come out. Even though she had not done it in months, not since Nicky. Because Nicky can read her with a glance, knows everything about her, untangles her webs until Lorna is laid bare and has nothing to hide behind. But not this. This has always been just hers.

Red reaches back into her pocket and pulls out another stack of soaps. "Give them to ours when they come in. Help them settle in. Make it just that much more bearable." Lorna nods solemnly and places them in her jacket.

"That's a good girl," Red smiles and pats her cheek, because Nicky will always be the favorite, but Lorna was the doted upon.

They are fucking in the chapel when Lorna, on the cusp of orgasm, looks up and locks eyes with a crucifix left behind from this morning's mass. As she rocks back into the alter and stares into Jesus' eyes, Lorna realizes that without a doubt she is going to hell.

She was raised as a good Catholic girl and she had lost her way. She had fallen so far down her own rabbit hole of lies and desires that she no longer knew which way was up. Lorna closes her eyes as she comes, not wanting God's judgments, whether they be forgiveness or condemnation.

She may no longer be able to devote herself to God, but she could wholeheartedly devote her love to Christopher. He can be her savior.

So she breaks it off with Nicky and pretends it does not hurt.

After she steals the van.

After she sees her life in another woman's home.

After Christopher comes and blows up her world like she tried to blow up his.

Lorna sits alone in a Valentine's Day party and shovels food in her mouth. And even after her talk with Suzanne, even after she feels her first glimmer of hope in days, she hides away in the deserted bathroom while her friends dance the night away and Nicky screws her way through the dorms.

She does not even need her toothbrush.

Nicky gets sent to Max and Lorna has nothing.

It gets bad.

The lies get away from her. There are too many to keep up with and there is no one left to help her untangle them. To see just her.

But then Vinny sees. And it is just such a relief.

If prison has taught her anything, it is that life will try to take away anything good in your life and if you have to fight kicking and scratching to keep it, you do what you got to do.

So she gets married.

When Nicky comes back, Lorna kisses her.

Chastely, and on the cheek, but Nicky grabs her by the hips and says, "God I missed ya, Kid."

Lorna cries too hard to respond but it feels like everything is right again. She has Nicky and she has Vinny. She lays down that night, only feet away from Nicky, and sleeps uninterrupted for the first time in months.

"Why? Tired of sticking your toothbrush down your throat?"

Lorna freezes and glares as Boo flippantly tears down her world in the middle of the mess hall. She can feel Nicky's eyes on her as Boo walks away.

"I don't know what she is talking about," Lorna chokes out and changes the subject.

Nicky comes back and Lorna feels like she is the only one who sees she does not come back right.

So she does what she always does and tries to distract her. Not in the biblical way, obviously, but with mysteries and gossip and companionship. She offers everything she can give, but it is not enough and Nicky tries to take more.

Because Nicky is an addict and knowing her limits was never Nicky's strong suit.

But Lorna is an addict too and descends into her own chaos.

Vinny will not answer her calls.

Nicky detoxes.

The French black girl dies.

And while holding hands with their backs up against the wire fence that imprisons them, Lorna and Nicky are both as broken as they ever were.

Suzanne snuck off hours ago, muttering something about going to the library and needing more books. Lorna nods sadly, remembering that is where her friend worked, and covers for her, cleaning the floor of the Suburbs bathroom by herself. After she is done, Lorna calmly pours out the dirty water and packs up her mop before slipping into the stall of the deserted bathroom.

Lorna does not usually do this during the day, but that morning she had tucked her toothbrush in her sock. It was a comforting weight against her ankle as she joined the line that filed into the yard, eyes carefully averted from the closed door of the mess hall.

She quickly loses the remnants of her cold, burnt breakfast, willing to purge herself of the memories just as much. But the sensation of being uncomfortably full and so painfully empty remains and in her desperation, the toothbrush scratches the back of her throat. Tears stream down her face as her mouth fills with the coppery taste of blood. She is choking and sputtering, spitting out red tinted bile. Lorna tries to stand, but her legs feel like rubber and slip beneath her until she is curled up, sobbing on the floor.

Suddenly there are hands on her back, pulling her up and against a familiar chest. Cool fingers brush her hair off her sweaty forehead and the rough, itchy sleeve of a prison-issued sweatshirt wipes saliva and blood off her mouth.

"Shh, shh, Kid. It's alright. What have you done to yourself, huh?" Nicky murmurs, rocking her softly. Lorna weakly tries to pull away because no one was ever meant to see this. Nicky was never meant to see this. Nicky loved the curls, carefully applied eyeshadow, and contraband red lips. Nicky loved the giggles and high-pitched moans and cute little quirks. Nicky loved the fantasy, the escape from her own demons. Not this. No one could love this.

Nicky pushes Lorna's chin up, searching for her gaze. Lorna looks away, instead locking her eyes on her toothbrush lying inches away from her. Nicky sees. Nicky always sees.

Nicky kicks the toothbrush away, ignoring Lorna's sob as she desperately reaches out for it, and reels her back in.

"I need it," Lorna pleads, her voice cracking. "Please."

Glaring, Nicky tugs Lorna's chin up and forces Lorna to meet her eyes. "No," she bites out. "You do not. Because this ends now," she commands.

Lorna closes her eyes, but Nicky shakes her until she opens them. "I should have said something before. When Boo…" Nicky takes a breath and leans forward, pressing a trembling kiss against her forehead. "I was a shitty friend and I'm so sorry. But I got you now. This place fucking sucks enough without us killing ourselves on top of everything else. You and I, kiddo, we're gonna make it out of here alive. Together. I help you, you help me."

"Distract each other?" Lorna asks, heart sinking. "I can't… I can't do that."

Shaking her head, Nicky presses their foreheads together. "You were never just a distraction," she whispers. Lorna hiccups and presses her face into Nicky's neck, relaxing into the scent of the prison's industrial laundry detergent, the cheap mousse Nicky secretly buys from the commissary, and faint cigarette smoke that is so uniquely Nicky. That feels more like home than all the times Vinny wrapped her in his Axe scented embrace.

And when Nicky tells her, "It's going to be alright, Baby. It's all going to be alright now", Lorna believes her.