BOWERS HOUSE -- JOANNA WING
Joanna sits herself down and has a little review of her own: Julian hates her, which is tough because she still has a total crush on him. Especially now that she knows he's at worst a standard-issue douchebag party boy (who punches pregnant ladies). Will hates her for reasons that are fucking unfathomable. She calls up her mom at Alzheimer's Camp and the mom's just like, "I can't talk to you right now, I'm having too much fun without you."
So she has herself a cry. Me, I would be embarrassed about the Julian thing mostly, because I hate to be a bad guest. And I would say readying a corkscrew weapon while grilling your date in an unbelievably blatant way about his sister's date qualifies. But also, I mean, there is a lot to hate about Julian, but the whole thing where he's just desperate for approval and for the go-ahead to be a grown man, that gets to me a little bit. Those spoiled boys can wait a lifetime for that one, and they just never get started, and it's so sad to see them at, like, 40 with their family money and nothing of their own to be proud of and just... wondering what happened.
How everybody else ended up with these lives, seemingly just in the course of the narrative, and they're still the same exact person they always were. I mean, don't pet the polar bear, it's not attractive in the fucking slightest, but I do feel a lot of sympathy for those guys. They make good friends, if you don't expect much, and they often end up very romantic, which can be a nice quality in (other) people. I do wonder what one would look like if he somehow got fixed. Never met one who did. But you keep hoping.
I would not cry about Will, except maybe out of shame for having sex with him. I might cry about the mom, and that seems pretty tough at the end of the day. What I know I would be crying about -- what every person in this house probably cries about from time to time -- is feeling so alone in that house. Edward hates her, Sofia hates everybody, Mia's competitive, Julian's butthurt, Robert is a compromised and gaping maw of grief and need and Calpurnia probably thinks she's nuts. Who's left? Nobody. Just poor little maid's daughter Joanna, on the stairs, all alone. Not one thing, not the other, not belonging but not the enemy, neither rich nor poor, neither family nor not-family, just like her entire life. Just like that last night with Vivian, when she said all those awful things and Joanna realized she'd been alone all along.