Chapter 3
On the other side of the country, another home: Manhattan, New York. An Upper West Side brownstone, the surfaces smelling of sterile lemon furniture polish.
A different son to different parents: Julian.
Julian stares into his phone. Eve is playing guitar on the couch and pretending there is not something monumental happening in the space between Julian’s eyes and his phone screen, and something else monumental in the space between Julian and their father.
Eve plucks out hollow, lonely little notes that cannot sustain themselves against the force of so much damask wallpaper.
Phillip looks at the phone over Julian’s shoulder.
“I guess there’s that,” Phillip says.
“It’s an acceptance,” Julian says.
“Congratulations!” Eve strums something cheerful. They both look at her like, Don’t do that.
It’s an acceptance—Julian’s first. No one in this family has gone to this college before because for the past century, everyone in this family has gone to Harvard.
“Cheer up,” Phillip says.
Julian turns, cautiously hopeful.
“Eve can still go to Harvard.”
Julian looks at Eve with betrayal, like she was the one who said it. Eve doesn’t want to go to Harvard. She doesn’t want to work at her dad’s company. Eve wants music, and Eve wants love. In that order.
“Well, thank god for second chances,” Julian says.
“It was a joke,” Phillip says. “We’re very proud of you.”
“Because it feels like you’re saying, you know, good thing Eve is around because Julian is a failure.”
Their dad says, “Some people love the first pancake.”