Chapter 5
Eve takes the C to the Upper West Side, where she knocks on her parents’ door. There is no answer.
It’s raining—has been raining now for almost the entirety of Danny’s absence, which Eve tries not to read into. Two very small dogs in booties and plaid raincoats gambol past. Muscular dads with strollers jog through the crosswalk. On the sidewalk, dead brown flowers are slippery underfoot.
She knocks again, and she’s about to try her old spare key when the door opens and Phillip is standing there. He takes a step back. Eve takes a step back.
“Oh,” he says. “I thought you were—”
Eve glances at his hand. Wedding ring. They have not spoken in months.
“Hi,” Eve says. “Is Mom around?”
“Church,” Phillip says.
They both hesitate. Eve realizes she is blocking his path, so she steps aside.
“How’s the music?” Phillip says.
“It’s good, thanks.”
“Some people came up here, asking around. Julian said we should just ignore them. They’re saying you’re dead, but Julian explained.”
“Not dead,” Eve says. “It’s just a social media thing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Well,” Phillip says. He fidgets with his keys.
“Sounds like it’s been tough, princess.” He leans forward like he might kiss her cheek, but instead he just pats her arm once, locks the door, and hurries down the steps.
He pops open his umbrella, which is large and black, and disappears behind the shield of it.
Sounds like it’s been tough, princess—there are two versions of this story, and both have plenty of evidence:
Version One: Phillip is bad
He calls her princess to convey that she’s spoiled
He says it sounds like it’s been tough because he means to imply that things would be less tough if she’d just followed his plan for her life
He didn’t say more than that because he doesn’t want anything to do with her
Version Two: Phillip is good
He calls her princess to convey that she’s precious
He says it sounds like it’s been tough because he means to imply that he has sympathy for her
He didn’t say more than that because he does not want to force his daughter to have a relationship with him
Eve stays there on the steps until he has turned the corner, and then she walks down the steps and makes her way on the familiar path to their church.
There is no service happening right now, and it’s quiet when Eve pushes open the heavy front door and steps inside. She steps through the kaleidoscope of stained-glass light.
She sees Cecilia in the second pew. Eve’s boots echo with each step. Her umbrella drip, drip, drips onto the smooth stone floor.
When Eve reaches her mother, she slides into the pew. Cecilia turns, looks at the puddle quickly forming beneath Eve, and says, “Oh. How wet.”
“What are you doing?” Eve asks.
“Just sitting. I like to just sit here.”
“Am I interrupting?”
“No, of course not.”
Eve sits on her hands, which are starting to tighten with cold. She gazes at the vaulted roof and the grand piano, the altar and the heavy curtains.
Finally, she says, “I learned something, and it’s not really my business. But if I were you, I’d want to know.”
Cecilia holds up a hand. “I don’t need to.”
“Mom, I really think you do.”
“Honey,” Cecilia says. “I just want things to be nice. Would that be okay? If we just kept things nice?”
“But things aren’t nice,” Eve says. “I don’t want to feel like we’re constantly performing. That’s no way to live.”
“It’s the way I would like to live. It’s what makes me happy.”
“Are you happy, though?”
“I’m a very neutral person, that’s all. Are you happy?”
“I mean,” Eve says. “Not this second.”
But in general?
Eve thinks of what her life has been since she started dating Danny.
It has been lazy Saturday walks in McCarren Park and late-night pizza slices.
Inside jokes and not enough sleep. Feeling safe.
Feeling seen. It has been sticky notes on the bathroom mirror.
The best parts of the past two years have been when she has allowed herself to believe that she will be in love with Danny for the rest of her life.
“Yes,” Eve says. “Yeah. I’m happy.”
Cecilia takes Eve’s hand—just for a second. “What if you didn’t let other people’s choices ruin that quite so much?”