Put on a Happy Face

Happy, poppy music plays! A big “Welcome Class of 2009!” banner is shown! Amy is strolling along a clubs and organizations fair at A&M! Life is good and exciting and fresh and new! There are booths for snowboarders and booths for Jewish students! Oh, the recreational diversity! And...it...just keeps going! It's like an interminable opening credit sequence for a knock-off of any early '70s "independent young woman" sitcom. I'm expecting Amy to fling her backpack in the air any moment now. Oh, and the show can be called, like "A&MY" or something. Or maybe I've just spent 12 hours too many in front of a computer screen. The girl running the “F-Stop Photography Club” booth, also tiring of the happy!poppy!montage, calls out to Amy, asking if she’s interested in photography. Amy says she doesn’t know much about it, but is interested. Just as the two are introducing themselves – Photography Girl’s name is Maura, incidentally – Reid comes over and asks if there’s anything Amy doesn’t do. They greet each other with a hug, and Reid remarks on how Amy’s nursing her mother back to health, starting college, and “saving the world” (through...amateur photography?). Amy says that she likes to keep busy, especially since she was used to taking eight classes in high school and now only has three. Reid thinks that three college classes are equivalent to eight high school classes, and I’m wondering how freaking special Colorado A&M is, anyway, when even Rory Gilmore had to drop down to four classes in her second semester as a freshman at Yale, and myself and everyone I knew at our small private university took 14-16 credits first semester of freshmen year. Wait. Did I just use Gilmore Girls as a standard by which to judge another show's depiction of academia? Well, the second example is accurate, anyway. Reid looks over her schedule and observes that she’s taking Organic Chemistry, which really makes it more like ten high school classes. He tells her that if she needs any help, to just come by and see him; it will be good for him to brush up on the material, and it will make him feel smart, which he says he hasn’t felt since starting med school. He checks the time and says that he has an appointment with Ed, his new cadaver. He doesn’t elaborate, but I’m sincerely hoping it’s a med school related thing. Amy says that that’s what she’s looking for: “friends who don’t talk back.” Reid tells her she’s funny. Okay. As he walks away, Maura comments on how “hot” he is. Amy: “And gay. Hot and gay.” Maura remarks that "all the good ones are," and hands Amy a flyer, urging her to come to their meeting on Friday. And we fade out from the F-Stop flyer to...

One advertising “A Midsummer Night’s Bacchanal.” Bright, in line with Ephram to get their student ID pictures taken, reads the flyer aloud and mispronounces “bacchanal” in exactly the way you think he would. Ephram corrects him, then takes a moment to get his word nerd on and provide the term’s etymology, from “Bacchus, the Greek [sic; Roman, actually] god of wine, women, and song.” Marry me, Ephram. Bright asks if it’s a party, and Ephram says it is, and that they’re going, and that he wonders if they need fake IDs or if their student IDs will do. Bright stops him. “We?” Ephram cheerlessly says that he loves parties. Bright asks since when, and compares Ephram to a “black hole; all light goes into you and dies.” Ephram, still nerdy, responds that since it’s not certain that light is conscious, it can’t die. More to the point, he says that he’s going crazy without the piano or Amy; all he has is his literature homework, which consists of material that he already read in AP English. Bright reminds Ephram that he told him AP classes were a waste of time. Ephram sits to have his picture taken and says that “we’re in college now. It’s time to unleash the new Ephram Brown: party animal extraordinaire.” I so wish I could offer a screencap of this moment, because words cannot properly illustrate how delightful it is. But, just imagine: “Ephram Brown, party animal extraordinaire” *insert dour expression last found in a photograph of a consumptive clergyman, circa 1888*. Bright suddenly remembers that he can’t go. Ephram asks if he has plans, but Bright says no, he has a girlfriend. Ephram wonders what that has to do with anything, and Bright likens attending a party when you have a girlfriend to taking Ben and Jerry to Baskin-Robbins, only he calls the latter “31 flavors,” so I guess there was a copyright issue there. Ephram says that parties aren’t just designed to get chicks, a statement with which Bright heartily disagrees. Ephram suggests that Bright just bring Hannah along, because he's sure she'd love to go to a college party. Dude, have you met Hannah? Bright echoes my sentiments verbatim. Ephram asks if this means that "you're never going to go to another party as long as you live.” As long as he lives? That's quite a statement. Apparently Ephram is a closet shipper. Bright protests that he’s just trying to grow up, and then, in another moment that demands a screencap, faces the camera with an expression that makes him look rather like a precocious 1950s child star. Ephram apologizes and says that he’ll try to support Bright’s newfound maturity. Bright departs, and Ephram calls after him not to "worry about me. I'll be fine. I don’t need a wingman or anything.” But Ephram! You enjoy etymology and nitpicking other people’s physics-related similes! Why would you ever need a wingman? *is completely sincere*

Sam’s. Andy looks over the coffee selection, noticing “Vanilla Swiss Almond” and “Chocolate Macadamia Nut.” Nina acknowledges that it sounds more like an ice cream parlor than a coffee shop. Man, the concept of frappuccinos would blow Nina's mind. Andy says that business seems to be booming, and passive-aggressives that that must be why he never sees her anymore. Nina admits that she practically lives in the restaurant now. She walks off to ring up a customer’s order, and Andy follows her to the counter. He cheerily tells her that he’s been thinking; she and some of the other random people living in her house should come over for dinner sometime. He guesses that she’s in dire need of a home-cooked meal; Nina responds that the promise of Andy’s cooking is not exactly a selling point. Andy defensively says that he took an Italian cooking class over the summer (for that week or two he wasn't in Mexico, I suppose) and can now prepare a restaurant-quality bolognese sauce. He invites them over for Saturday. Jake comes up to Nina with some question about invoices, and notices Andy. Jake suddenly dons an enormous fake grin and heartily greets Andy with a big fakely jolly handshake. Andy, wearing a grin to rival Jake’s, congratulates him on the business. Jake says “Blondie” is the boss, and he just works there. Ha-huh-huh! Just trying to approximate, in written form, the fakely mirthful sounds emanating from the trio. Jake asks what’s happening on Saturday, and Nina relays Andy’s invitation. Jake says that he loves “the bolognese” and just needs to check his schedule. Andy: “Great!” Andy now appears positively feral, so broad is his grin. Jake: “Great.” Jake’s phony grin is marginally less frightening, though he's probably had a lot of practice, having spent several years interacting with Jennifer Love Hewitt on a regular basis. Nina: “Great!” Nina is smiling so tensely that she appears close to tears. Andy: “Great.” He turns and walks away, relaxing his jaw and basically looking as though he’d prefer to spend Saturday committing hara-kiri. Though, he is the one who invited everyone in the first place, so...shut up, Andy.

The Abbott Kitchen of Sexy Dessert Metaphors. Rose is enjoying a cup of coffee when Harold comes downstairs and greets her with a kiss on the head. Rose tells Harold that he’s looking dapper and that she likes his tie, and the way she says it she may as well just throw him down onto the counter, right then and there. Harold goes off on a tangent about his bold decision to go with a Windsor knot, but stops when he realizes that Rose is drinking coffee for the first time in months. Rose says that she just woke up with a taste for it. Harold thinks this is “wonderful” and “meaningful” news; Rose is just happy that she can actually smell the coffee. Harold goes on, calling this a “cellular metamorphosis.” Rose, not in the mood for a poetic discourse on cellular biology, asks what time he’ll be coming home. Harold says probably at 6, the usual time, and asks why she wants to know. Rose thinks they should celebrate all the good news. Amy’s staying late at school, and Rose was thinking of making pot roast and...cheesecake. At this, Harold looks at Rose, intrigued. “Real-ly?” Rose smiles back at him, and he notes that it’s been a long time since they had cheesecake. And it will be a long time before I can think of The Cheesecake Factory in quite the same way again. Harold asks if Rose is ready; she feels ready, she says. Dr. Chao’s advice was that while she waited the three weeks until her next PET scan, she shouldn’t deny herself anything. “Butter on my popcorn, cream in my coffee, and...cheesecake.” Harold decides that they “mustn’t obey the good doctor’s orders.” He says he’ll see her at six, and kisses her on the nose; when almost out the door, he turns back to give her a seductive look, and Rose gets all flustered and teenagery.

Amy and Hannah in the Kia Sorrento, on their way to the Bright/Reid/Ephram apartment. Hannah is reading some tabloid and seriously doubting the judgment of those who find Jack White hot, because she questions his hygiene routine. I am so with you there, sister. Jack White skeeves me out in a big way. Amy says that he’s “dirty-hot, but not, like, Reid-hot.” Hannah reminds Amy of Reid’s unavailability, and urges her to move on. Amy says she will, but right now it’s a perfect situation, because she can practice her flirting techniques without fear of rejection. Hannah notes that she’s already been rejected, but Amy points out that her whole gender has been rejected; she can’t take it personally. Amy suddenly spots Ephram’s car and Hannah suddenly remembers that there was something she meant to tell her good friend. Amy asks if Hannah knew Ephram was going to be there that day. Actually, Hannah knows that Ephram is going to be there everyday, and tells Amy as much, but covers herself slightly by adding that the moving-in was a last minute decision. Amy: “Ephram moved in with Bright and you meant to tell me? That’s like, ‘Paul Revere, get on your horse and ride’-type information!” Hannah apologizes, but says that she and Bright had “all that stuff to work out” and that she figured she’d tell Amy when she saw her, but she never sees her because Amy’s always at school and Hannah’s always “here,” by which she means either Everwood or Bright’s apartment. My word. Amy’s been left in the lurch because Hannah’s time and energy are completely consumed by her relationship with her boyfriend. And I feel terrible for Amy. I am living in a world gone mad. Hannah calls herself “a horrible human being.” Amy assures her that she’s not; she’s “a girlfriend now.” Amy says that Hannah has more important things on her mind, and she understands. Well, of course Amy does; she’s the Ecumenical Matriarch of the Everwoodian Orthodox Church of Girlfriendism. Unfortunately for her, the church outreach program was a rousing success. Amy is happy for Hannah, but Hannah wonders why, if she’s actually happy, she seems so sad. Amy denies being sad and says that she’s just tired, from the getting lost on campus and not knowing anyone else and such. She waves it off and says she’s just being a complainer; she’s really fine. Hannah gently tells Amy that she can always complain to her, and Amy thanks her. Amy starts to leave; Hannah tells her she’s welcome to come up to the apartment, but Amy says that Hannah should be with her boyfriend (well, and Ephram, and Reid, so...very romantic, yes). Amy adds that she has a lot of homework to do and will see Hannah later. Hannah looks after her for a moment, a little sad, before making her way to the apartment. Amy glances back a couple more times while walking back to her car.

Andy’s office. A young male patient (Ethan) talks about his history with antidepressants; he’s been on them for a year and started taking them about six months after his older brother’s death. Andy asks if the meds are no longer working, but Ethan says they work great; his grades are up and he has a girlfriend. The problem is that while he and his girlfriend would like to take things to the “next level,” he...can’t. He’s done some research on-line into options, and has decided that he’d like to get a prescription for Viagra [I think; ABC Fam bleeps out prescription drug names and it’s been two years since I saw this ep on the WB], but Andy says he can’t allow that, as it’s only been tested on men 19 and over and Ethan is 17. Furthermore, he’s a minor, meaning that for the six months until his birthday, Andy can’t give him a prescription without parental consent. Ethan says that his parents don’t need something else to stress over. He asks Andy if this means he has zero options, and Andy says that he actually has a few, just none that he likes. Andy hands him back the information he had printed out about Viagra, and tells him to think about it. “It” being...I have no idea, actually, because I’m pretty sure there’s at least one thing he’s been thinking about plenty without needing the advice of a doctor to do so.

The apartment. Hannah and Bright are on the couch, checking out restaurant menus online (using, incidentally, the same laptop that I use in writing and publishing these recaps, though in a different color). Hannah thinks “El Sombrero” sounds good, but Ephram, hanging out in the kitchen, tells her no Mexican, since “some of us have to live here.” Hannah laughs at her boyfriend’s potential gastrointestinal disturbances. Bright says that just leaves Chinese and Thai; Hannah votes for Thai, which she prefers to Chinese. Bright asks if there’s a difference. Reid suddenly walks into the frame and Wikipedias that Thailand has a large ethnic Chinese population, which is why its cuisine contains many Chinese flavors, but that many Vietnamese and Indian immigrants also live in Thailand, so both the food and culture become a melting pot. Hannah jokingly asks if he learned that in med school, but (in a response that was oddly cut from the syndicated airing) he replies that it was actually on Food Network. Bright: “Gay people. They just know so many things.” In case we forgot, in the last five minutes, that Reid is supposed to be gay. Ephram remarks that he never would have known that Hannah liked Thai food, which makes him wonder what else he doesn’t know about her. For example, does she like parties? Hannah: “I did the conga line with my mom on the cruise ship, does that count?” Bright tells Ephram to knock it off, which he takes as encouragement to keep going. Ephram replies that Bright didn’t want to go because he didn’t think Hannah would want to go, but they should really just let her decide for herself. Ephram hands her the flyer, which she reads out loud, with correct pronunciation. Hannah asks what it will involve, and Ephram says it’s just “people letting loose, having fun, going crazy.”

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Oh, sorry. My head must have hit the keyboard when I laughed myself unconscious at the thought of either Hannah or Ephram, let alone in combination, engaging in these activities. Bright, rather glumly, says he wouldn’t know anything about it, because he’s not going. Hannah thinks that it might be interesting, but Bright rips the flyer out of her hand and says that it won’t be. Hannah, not unreasonably, asks if he’s mad. He says that he’s not, but they’re not going, so they should just drop the subject. He gets up to leave, crumpling and throwing out the flyer on his way out of the room, and Hannah and Ephram stare after him.

Harold brushes his teeth to the sound of wacky Harold theme music. Rose peeks into the bathroom and observes that Harold is up early, and did he sleep well? Harold says that he did, and must have been more exhausted than he realized. He accuses Rose of lurking, but she replies that she just wanted to make sure he was okay. He says he is, but Rose continues that “these things” do happen sometimes, and he shouldn’t give it another thought. Oh. Oh. Maybe he should call Ethan. Rose mentions that Amy’s left for school already, so... Harold says that he has an 8:00 appointment, so has to get going. Rose, ever persistent, suggests that night, then, but Harold replies that as delighted as he is with her sudden amorousness, he is not her “personal gigolo” and “cannot produce passion like a prisoner scheduling a conjugal visit,” but needs spontaneity instead. He also has medical reservations, given her recent spinal surgery. Rose points out that the surgery was three months before, but Harold says that they won’t know its full results until the PET scan, and they don’t even know if the chemo worked. Rose gives up, saying “never mind, forget it.” Harold makes a sarcastic comment about her maturity. Rose argues that she doesn’t need Harold to explain her cancer to her when she already has an oncologist to do so; Harold rebuts that whether she likes it or not, the whole thing is complicated. Rose disagrees and says that if Harold doesn’t want to have sex, he should just say so. He does, and Rose says neither does she.

Jake and the Post Man. Incidentally, the Everwood post office, for some reason, has a rack of postcards representing every state in the union. Andy enters and greets Jake, who no longer has the energy or desire to use his super-duper extra fake grin. Jake, wanting to make a quick getaway, attempts to pay the shipping costs for whatever he’s mailing as quickly as possible, but is held up by issues with the cash machine. Andy decides to cut the tension by telling Jake to bring his appetite Saturday, as Andy has an old patient from New York who owns a butcher shop and just sent him a fresh batch of mortadella. Jake tells him to drop the act, since it’s just the two of them. Andy warily says okay, and Jake says that Nina told him about the kiss. Andy apologizes, but says he doesn’t know what else he can say; Jake says there’s actually nothing he could say. Jake continues that he can’t play this game with him anymore; they’ll keep up appearances around Nina, because it’s important to her, but they’re no longer friends. “I don’t like you, and I sure as hell don’t trust you.” Jake finally finishes his transaction and walks out, leaving Andy to stare pensively into space.

Andy’s office. Harold pops by to ask if Andy got his stamps; Andy did, but accidentally purchased the Dr. Seuss commemorative collection rather than the snowy egret design. Harold asks why Andy is still there, since his last appointment was at five. Andy says that he decided to stay late to review journal articles for his upcoming surgical certification. Harold doesn’t believe that Andy would need to review surgical procedures that he could do in his sleep, and asks if something happened with Nina. Andy says that he’s actually been thinking about Ethan Harcourt and wondering why he became a stickler for the rules on this case. Harold assures him he did the right thing. Andy starts reminiscing about his teenage sex life. This prompts Harold to rant that he’s sick to death of discussions about sex, and what’s the point of evolving higher lobes that allow us to appreciate art and philosophy if sex is all anyone cares about, and we may as well be chimpanzees. Andy asks if something happened that Harold doesn’t want to talk about. Harold admits that Andy’s “clinically depressed patient” is more passionate than he is. Andy says it’s natural, given everything he and Rose have been through, but Harold says that Rose isn’t having that problem. Andy asks if he should be writing Harold the prescription. Harold wishes it were that simple. Andy, more serious, asks if it’s a conscious decision. Harold thinks it is. He realizes that he’s been trying to detach from Rose, because that way it might be less painful if something happened to her. Andy says that it’s natural for him to try to protect himself. Harold doesn’t think that makes it any less stupid, a sentiment with which Andy agrees. He urges Harold to tell Rose about these feelings, but Harold doesn’t know how to tell Rose that he’s afraid she might die; she’s already spent the past four months hearing bad news and worst-case scenarios, which have been “more corrosive to her spirit than chemo.” He doesn’t want to add to that with his own fears and anxieties. Andy tells him that whatever he’s thinking, Rose is as well; he should be less worried about the conversation they’ll have than the ones he could be having with himself for the rest of his life, because those are the ones that will kill him. Andy sure knows his way around an inspirational speech!

Bright and Hannah walk along Everwood’s sidewalk. Whatever restaurant they went to was apparently better than Bright thought it would be, and he suggests that they return the next night to try the other half of the dessert menu. Hannah thinks they could just go to the party, instead. Bright says that they already talked about it, but Hannah says that actually, he just made a “weird decision” about it, but she thinks it sounds like fun. Bright insists that it’s not; it’s just “a bunch of drunk idiots slamming some lameass ‘90s cover band” and Hannah would be completely bored by it all. And we will see that he’s utterly wrong; there is no ‘90s cover band. Hannah tells him that he doesn’t have to lie to her, because she knows that he wants to go, just not with her. Bright asks who else he would want to go with. Hannah says it’s obvious; “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me because I’m still in high school, and I wear bad glasses, and I dress like Laura from Little House on the Prairie.” Bright assures her that it’s not her, it’s him. Hannah freaks that they’ve already gotten to “it’s not you, it’s me.” Bright sits her down on a conveniently located bench. He insists that it is him; “when I go to parties, I get all sloppy, and I act like a moron ‘cause I’m drinking, and I don’t want you to see me like that.” Actually, apart from the drinking thing, this doesn’t sound terribly different from a description of his usual behavior. Bright goes on: “Man, this relationship stuff is like the hardest video game in the world. Every time I level up, there’s a new robo-assassin waiting to take me out if I don’t know the secret code.” Possibly one of the greatest similes for the difficulties of a romantic relationship, ever. Hannah briefly wonders if she’s the robo-assassin. Bright says no, but does remind her of what she told him the week before. “I have to think before I speak so I don’t say something stupid. So now, when I don’t say what I’m thinking, I’m thinking that you’re thinking I’m thinking something that I’m not thinking!” Bright points to his head. Hannah is confused, which could be an indication that she’s spending too much time with Bright, who spent most of the last episode in that very state. Bright clarifies; he’s trying to follow the rules, but they seem to keep changing, which is making his brain hurt. Hannah assures him that there’s only one, constant code: he needs to be himself and not who he thinks she wants him to be. She asks if he wants to go to the party, and he admits to “generally” being “a fan of parties.” She asks if he has to drink at said party; he truthfully replies that he could say no, but probably will drink. He quickly assures her that she won’t have to. Hannah says she’ll be the designated driver and that if she feels uncomfortable, she’ll tell him and they’ll leave. Bright declares her the “coolest girl in the world” and Hannah agrees that he’s “very lucky.” And they kiss for the third time this season and the third time in public. Crazy exhibitionist kids.

Maura and the F-Stoppers sit around a student lounge. Amy arrives, all ready for an actual meeting, and greets Maura, who vaguely remembers her. Maura introduces her to one girl, Ellie, who holds up her cameraphone and asks Amy if she’s ever seen the “insanely hot” guy whose picture is contained therein. He will apparently be attending some underground party that's held each Friday night [which should actually be Saturday, given that this meeting is taking place on Friday and later Harold and Amy talk about Saturday night parties]. Maura gives Amy the time and place. Amy’s smile fades upon hearing that it begins at midnight. Ellie helpfully remembers that freshmen don’t even usually go to these parties, unless they have fake IDs, which Amy does not. Maura, deciding that Amy hasn’t been embarrassed enough at this point, observes that she brought her photography gear, which was unnecessary for a simple meet-and-greet. She asks if Amy received the informational email that she put on the “network.” Amy says that she doesn’t have access to it, since she lives at home. Now wait, wait. How primitive is A&M’s web set-up if Amy can’t access their email server and/or intranet from an off-campus location? Because there’s no way she wasn’t automatically assigned a university email address; even if she opts to use her regular address as her primary one, the university address will likely still be used for university announcements. And I think it has to be an issue of access, in any case, because I refuse to believe that a public university would deny a significant number of students – commuters, which would likely include plenty of upperclassmen who have their own apartments off-campus – membership in the university network. I just don’t buy it. Was I in the middle of recapping something? Footnotes would be handy sometimes. So, Ellie thinks it’s “harsh” that Amy lives at home. Amy grits that it’s not that bad, “once you get used to the ‘harsh’ thing.” Hee. Maura and Ellie stare at her for another moment before Ellie asks the other F-Stoppers if they know the name of Hot Cameraphone RA. Amy looks at the group sadly. Aw, Amy, it’s okay. People who live at home during college are awesome and cool and just generally brilliant. It’s a fact. Really. I’m totally not, um, over-identifying, or anything.

Andy’s office, where the doctor himself is poring over a book. Nina knocks on his open door; Andy welcomes her and explains that he’s doing some research on making pasta from scratch; would she prefer linguine or capellini? Nina tells him that they won’t be able to make it for dinner after all; Jake, she claims, woke up the day before with a high fever. And not that I’m advocating using one’s child in such a way, but I think she could have sold her excuse a little better if she’d used Sam instead of Jake as the patient. Andy, not buying it, tells Nina to “listen,” when a woman walks in and asks if he’s Dr. Brown. When he says yes, the woman asks what’s wrong with him, writing a prescription for a 17-year-old boy without even contacting his parents first. She helpfully adds that she’s referring to Ethan, and Andy denies ever having given him a prescription. Mrs. Harcourt wonders why, then, Ethan’s in the cardiac unit at the hospital, under observation after experiencing chest pain. Andy insists that neither he nor Harold wrote the prescription, but suggests that Ethan may have gone to another doctor. Nina takes offense at this, and though Andy correctly points out that he didn’t say it was Jake, Nina says that there are only three doctors in town. Andy says that someone other than Harold or himself gave Ethan the prescription, and Nina storms out.

The Bacchanal. Ephram is ready to PAR-TAY! and asks, in a reckless abandonment of proper grammar, “Where do you think the keg’s at?” Bright reminds him that he hates beer, but Ephram declares that “when in Rome...,” apparently having recalled, since that earlier scene, the true nationality of Bacchus. Much as I've done in the 9 months since recapping this episode. Ahem.[/end sheepish June 2008 editing] Ephram asks if Bright wants a beer, too, but Bright says no. Hannah reminds him of her offer to serve as designated driver, but he’s still hesitant. Hannah perkily comments on how much she likes the lights that are serving as the party’s only decor. Bright agrees, then decides to impress his girlfriend with his awesome knowledge of classical mythology: “It’s a bacchanal. It’s in honor of the Greek god B.A. Baracus, who’s the god of beer and kickin’ it and stuff.” Ha! Hannah is too busy checking out their surroundings to respond to Bright’s brilliance. They get to the room where the band (led by Inara George) is performing. Hannah asks if “this” is the partying, and Bright replies that that’s it, just “hanging out” and “talking to people.” Some guy we’ve never seen before comes up to Bright; the two exchange some kind of handshake and Bright introduces Hannah as his girlfriend. Hannah is clearly thrilled to have been acknowledged as such. The guy (Pete) invites Bright to his room, where there’s a flat-screen TV and they’re going to play something or other for shots! Bright looks like he’s just entered a state of religious ecstasy, but tells Pete that he and Hannah are going to hang out and listen to the band. Hannah, still on a high, tells him to go ahead; she’ll just stay downstairs. He kisses her, because they’re in public, and runs upstairs.

Abbott living room. Amy lies on the couch, watching television. Harold comes in and asks what she’s doing there on a Saturday night, as he would have thought there would be some “college mixers to attend.” Amy says there are two, but one requires a fake ID and the other is being attended by Bright, her best friend, and her ex-boyfriend. “But thank you for asking. And when you say ‘mixers,’ Dad, you sound, like, 90.” Harold says that he’s happy to see her anyway, and suggests that they watch a movie like they used to when she was younger. He adds that The Sound of Music is “always a tonic for the spirit.” Amy doesn’t think she can handle the von Trapps at the moment and suggests that he go “torture” Rose instead. Harold doesn’t actually know Rose’s whereabouts, except that she’s “out.” Amy: “Oh, that’s just great. My mother, who has a lower T-cell count than I do, has a better social life than I do. That’s just awesome.” Harold sarcastically asks who needs a frat party when they can have a pity party right there? He asks Amy to tell him what’s really bothering her. Amy unloads: Hannah’s in the “lovey-dovey stage” with Bright, meaning she doesn’t have time for Amy, which is a problem because Amy can’t make friends at school, because she lives off-campus. Her classes are “massive” and much harder than she expected from her “fallback school,” which Amy takes to mean she’s been kidding herself about transferring to Princeton. She concludes that all this is why she’s stuck at home, watching bad TV and unloading on Harold, who’s “physically obligated” to listen to her. She warns him that if he tells her she’s in the prime of her life, she’ll throw the remote at him. Amy works herself into such a lather that she gets up and marches right out the front door, ready to go anyplace that’s “out.”

Back to the Bacchanal. Bright is leading a bunch of people in some game where they drum their hands on the table and shout things and clap and do various things with their hands. I don’t know; I’ve been to fewer parties than Hannah. The objective is to mimic all the actions of the leader; a few people manage to do this until we reach Hannah, whose presence seems to indicate that she's decided to fully support her boyfriend. She screws up and is required to take a big swig from her cup. Pete, sitting next to her, remarks that she must be “crazy wasted” by now, but Hannah explains that she’s actually drinking soda. Ephram appears behind her and asks “You, too?” He adds that he wasn’t "doing the beer alone[?] thing either.” Bright gets up to greet Ephram with another weird handshake, while Hannah, still seated, looks increasingly discomfited. Bright invites him to join in their game of “Thumper;” Ephram's response is merely to comment that Bright must be “where all the beer went.” The band signs off for the night. Pete is upset about this, since they have an additional four kegs coming in. Bright says that he’ll take care of it, and Hannah looks at him, puzzled but not nearly as alarmed as she should be. She asks where he’s going, and he simply says he’ll “be right back.” Hannah and Ephram watch as Bright heads for the mic. Once there, he does a drum roll with his hands and calls for someone to give him a “beat.” Ephram is mildly bemused. Hannah is mildly horrified. Okay. This show has given us a lot of painful scenes, but I dare say that the one we're about to see ranks pretty bloody high on the list. Here goes. Bright steals the cap off of some guy’s head and puts it on his own, sideways. He asks if everyone’s having a good time and then launches into a call-and-response “rap”: “When I say ‘hey,’ you say ‘ho’! Hey!” “Ho!” Ephram and Hannah remain silent. They both manage to appear simultaneously mortified, amused, and impressed by Bright’s mind-control abilities over the rest of the crowd members, who are dutifully shouting “Ho!” for every “Hey.” Bright switches to “Pounda” “Beer!” Ephram holds up his cup and quietly says “Beer,” while Hannah smiles tightly. Ephram asks if she’s okay; she claims she’s fine, just tired. She also remarks that she “didn’t know parties lasted so long.” Ephram thinks that’s not a good sign. Hannah asks him what Bright is doing; Ephram says he’s fine, since “he hasn’t even taken off his clothes yet.” This upsets Hannah further, as she realizes that Bright’s only had two beers and probably isn’t even drunk yet. Bright proceeds to rap something about bouncing. Ephram invites Hannah to a midnight showing of Batman at the local movie theater, saying that they can make it if they leave immediately. Hannah says that she can’t leave Bright; Ephram, for his part, doesn’t want to leave Hannah in this position, but she reiterates that she’s fine. She does ask, though, if Bright is “always so...” “Much?” Ephram responds. “Yeah. Yeah, I think he is.” Hannah flashes another tight smile. “Good to know.” Noticing her displeasure with this answer, Ephram adds that he’s sure Bright would tone things down if she told him it bothered her. Hannah says she doesn’t want to ruin his fun, but was just curious. Bright has returned to the call-and-response portion of his rap, now with “Beer” “Yummy!” Ephram asks again if Hannah’s all right, which she falsely assures him she is; she tells him to enjoy the movie. He finally leaves, clearly reluctant to abandon Hannah to the gods of mildly inebriated white-boy rap and fully inebriated groupthink. Hannah’s expression grows increasingly weirded-out as we go to commercial.

Harold has taken Amy’s place on the couch. Rose comes in; Harold says that he’s been calling all over town about her, but Rose says she’s been at the one place he would never have guessed: Edna and Irv’s. Hey, funny! That’s the one place where they never guessed Amy would be way back in S2! Rose went there to look at their honeymoon photos, and shows Harold the souvenir they brought back for them – ouzo, which Edna calls “Greek moonshine.” So based on this and the grappa, booze is the hot Mediterranean souvenir. Harold thinks he might use it to power the snowblower come winter. More serious, Harold tells Rose that he had a conversation with Andy and suggests that he and Rose need to talk. Rose thinks this will require ice cream, and goes to the kitchen. Harold follows and Rose launches into a discourse on all the ice cream toppings she’s recently purchased. Harold is suspicious of her high spirits, given that they had just been fighting. Rose says that they were; Harold doesn’t remember apologizing, and Rose tells him she doesn’t want him to. Rose is glad they fought, because it marked the first time in four months that he treated her more like a wife than a patient. “It was the first time since all this horribleness began that I felt like us again.” They agree that they’ve missed “us.” Rose says she needs to feel the passion again, even if it just means arguing, because the distance between them was worse than the chemo. Rose remembers that Harold had wanted to talk about something, but he says it was “nothing at all,” and laughs it off. He suggests that they argue about what to watch on TV.

Ephram at the movies. He sees Amy and walks up (well, down, movie theater aisles being what they are) to her, promising that he’s not stalking her. Amy stares at him, and Ephram says he’ll just go, since she’s probably there with someone. She says she’s not; he asks if she wants to be alone, then, but she gives him the go-ahead to take the seat right across the aisle from hers. She warns him that she’s not very good company at the moment. Ephram asks if something happened, which she denies; he then jokingly asks if she’s going through the change. Heh. Ephram is weird. Amy thinks that might be nice, since it would probably mean she was in her 50s, with a husband, kids, a job, and “nothing major left to stress about.” Ephram doubts that last part would be true. Amy just thinks that it would be nice to not have to worry about thesis papers and parties, to be “finished with some of the big stuff.” Ephram points out that she finished high school, which was a “big one” for him, at least. Amy notes that he hated high school, but he says “not all of it.” The movie starts, and Ephram passes her his popcorn across the aisle.

Ethan’s hospital room. Andy stands in his doorway and observes that “sex really does kill.” Ethan explains how he got the pills; he purchased them via a spam email. Andy says he was probably given speed or veterinary medicine instead. Ethan would like to sue, but knows if he did so he would look like a moron for buying anything from the site; Andy doesn’t think he was stupid, but human, because he just wanted to exercise some control over his life. Ethan doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep the whole mess from his girlfriend Karen. Andy wonders why he would want to, and when Ethan points out how uncool it all is, Andy remarks that he thinks Ethan practically risking his life for her is “pretty cool.” Way to overstate the situation, Andy. We’re not dealing with Verdi here. Ethan says that it’s not really about being cool, because he’s never been that; he just doesn’t “want to lose the one good thing that ever happened” to him. He had liked Karen for years but was afraid to tell her how he felt, until his brother died, after which point possible rejection by a girl seemed pretty minor. Andy thinks that if Karen didn’t reject him then, she won’t reject him now. Andy offers two pieces of advice: first, “Never lie to the people you love,” and if Karen rejects him after hearing the truth, then she doesn’t deserve him. And second? “Never buy medicine off a porn site.”

Amy in the A&M library. Amy is looking very much like she just doesn’t care, dressed uncharacteristically in a sweatshirt and jeans, and wearing a basecall cap over her pigtail-braided hair. With her face buried in a gigantic book, she walks past a table at which Reid is studying. Reid notices her and says hey. He asks how things are going; she thinks that if these are really the best years of her life, she might kill herself. And...I thought that line was funny, watching it just now, but as I type it up I suddenly remember that, considering who she said it to, it’s almost a bit of throwaway dark foreshadowing. Reid invites her to sit down, which she does. She confesses that everything that used to come naturally to her now necessitates a lot more effort, and that the only thing that seems normal is hanging out at the movies with Ephram. Reid’s interest is piqued, and Amy continues that running into Ephram felt weird at first, but only because it felt so comfortable. Reid figures she wants to get back together with him, but Amy’s not sure; she does, though, appreciate how “easy” it is to be with him, and she could use something easy in her life. Reid says that college isn’t supposed to be easy after only a week, but Amy insists that she’s “generally a quick learner.” Reid tells her that he was the first in his family to go to college, but that it took a lot of hard work and the added humiliation of having to work in the dorm cafeteria, where every morning he had to serve all the kids he sat next to in class. He tells Amy that if she acts like she’s “kicking ass,” everyone else will come to believe it, and so will she. A young woman suddenly comes over to their table and greets Reid as “babe.” The two kiss. *gasp* Reid’s not gay?! How can this be?! I was so fooled! Reid introduces the woman as “Lexie” and, noticing the time, says that they’ll have to go right away, or miss the movie. Reid tells Amy to feel better, and he and Lexie walk off with their arms around each other. Amy watches in wonderment and mutters that her brother is a “dead man.”

Andy rings the doorbell at La Casa de Nina y de Muchos Otros. She answers and asks if everything’s okay; Andy says no, and asks if they can talk. Nina joins him on the porch. He wants to know if she meant it when she said that she wanted to be friends. She says of course, but Andy doesn’t feel like they’re friends; he says that he’s trying, but wonders if maybe he’s not trying hard enough. Nina argues that it’s a hard situation; she likes the idea of all of them getting together, but thinks it might be too soon for that, given that she’s had to spend the last two weeks keeping Jake from going over to the Brown house and decking Andy. Andy tells her to let “Tiny Tim” at him if that’s what he really wants. Nina asks if all men are 12 on the inside, and Andy quickly assures her they are. They laugh for a moment. Getting serious again, Andy says that fighting’s not the answer, but at least it would be more real than the situation has been. “I’m getting TMJ from all the phony smiles.” Hee! Andy insists that if they’re really going to be friends, they need to be straight with each other and deal with the awkwardness. Nina agrees, but worries about Jake. Andy understands that Jake is angry and is all right without Jake’s forgiveness; his concern is not with winning back Jake’s friendship, but Nina’s. Andy says he misses her, and invites her and Sam over for a meal, whenever she’s ready. Nina mulls over Andy’s invitation.

The apartment. Bright is checking the fridge for something to eat, but Ephram tells him not to bother, as all they have is ketchup and soy sauce. Which doesn’t even need to be refrigerated, actually, but perhaps the ketchup was lonely. Bright remarks that he’d be better off living with his parents, since the Abbott household is like a “free food warehouse.” Changing topics, he asks where Ephram disappeared to the night before. Ephram explains that he went to the movies, where he ran into Amy. Bright thinks it’s “typical” that Ephram went to the hottest party in town and still ended up with his ex. He surmises that Ephram’s attempts at remaking himself aren’t working out, but Ephram just says it’s a “work in progress.” He adds that Bright was “something else” at the party. Bright takes this as a compliment and thanks him, but Ephram is quick to reply that he didn’t mean it that way. “You were kind of an ass.” Hannah suddenly enters through the unlocked door, which I’m okay with because I can buy that Everwoodians don’t bother locking their doors, and she comes bearing hamburgers and ibuprofen. Bright relates what Ephram just said, and asks her if it’s true or false. Hannah and Ephram exchange a look, then Hannah declares that it’s “false. Definitely false. You were...funny.” Hannah! Bright says that the defense rests, and calls Ephram a player hater. Or possibly “playa hata.” Hard to say. He asks Hannah if she had a good time, since he was afraid that she found it lame. Hannah says it was “different,” provoking Ephram’s disgust, if his expression is anything to go by. Bright asks if that’s a “good different,” and she says yes, it was fun. Bright is happy. Ephram is not. Frankly, dude, neither am I. Backbone, Hannah! Bright and Hannah kiss, because there’s someone else there, but Ephram announces (disgustedly) that he’ll be in his crawl space. Bright declares that he and Hannah will be the “party couple of the century." He mentions that there’s a luau on Friday, and says that he’s thinking “coconut bikini.” Hannah’s lips say “what?,” but her eyes say “Please kill me now.” Bright says he’s kidding, but suggests she wear a grass skirt or something else festive. He observes that his burger needs more ketchup, and as he gets up to retrieve some from the refrigerator, starts rapping the thing about bouncing again. Hannah pops a few ibuprofen, dry. Bright's rap continues even over the closing screen showing the creator/producer credits.

Confession time: I was invested in a number of relationships on this show – familial, friendly, and romantic – but the one that I always felt really deserved a chance to be further explored (and would apparently have gotten that chance in S5, grrr) was Ephram/Hannah. Episodes like this one only make me more sad about the missed opportunities. Quite honestly, they are my AU OTP; a romantic connection on the show would have just been wrong, and a horrible thing to do to Amy and Bright, and I was invested enough already in pre-existing romances. But in some other version of Everwood, one that didn’t have all the established character relationships, they could have made a great little introverted, pretty well compatible couple. Just wanted to get that out there, so when I make any comments about how there so should have been an E/H scene in some ep or other ("Pro Choice," for sure), well, that's why. Recapper's bias.

Next time: Ephram becomes a piano teacher but demonstrates symptoms of PTSD when he himself tries to play, Sylvia Fine and her real-life husband seek out Andy's medical advice, and the people of Everwood betray a fairly sucky sense of loyalty where Rose is concerned.

The Next Step

We pick up right after the reception. Edna and Ephram chat a bit, and I love how the show keeps putting unexpected characters in scenes together. Edna is disappointed that he has no tattoo to show for his travels (not the kind of “putting unexpected characters together” that I meant, Edna); Ephram mentions that he did have a goatee for awhile, since the French have a thing for body hair. And let’s all just take a moment to give thanks that this show is set in Colorado. Harold, carrying his still-chirping centerpiece, and Amy walk just ahead of the two E’s. Ephram gets up the nerve to join them and addresses Harold first, who hopes that Ephram acquired a new language or two; he says that he learned the meaning of “cornucopia” on a “really weird day,” but that was about it. Random, but intriguing. Harold leaves Ephram and Amy alone, and after they awkwardly greet each other, Amy says that she didn’t know he was coming home. Neither did he; it just happened. They awkwardly discuss the state of Rose’s health, and it’s all very awkward. Amy wonders if he’s just stopping over in Everwood or is there to stay. Ephram’s thinking of staying, unless there’s a restraining order against him; Amy smiles at this bit of humor and says she’ll see him around. Andy catches up to his son and asks if he’s ready to go, which leads us directly to:

The three Browns in the kitchen. Delia leaves to go to bed, but not before playfully shoving Ephram and saying how glad she is he’s back. Andy tells Ephram that he always wanted to backpack through Europe, and asks if it was everything Ephram thought it would be. Ephram remarks that all he really wanted was to get out of Everwood. He says that it was hard, especially since he forgot how much Americans are hated there. Andy reminds him that “You’re supposed to say you’re Canadian.” Hee! Nice in-joking, Andy. Ephram says that fear and language barriers prevented him from talking to anyone at first, but eventually he sucked it up, and met cool people and did things he would never have done on his own. “Yes, I know, I’m one step away from saying I found the meaning of life in a Tuscan villa. Shoot me now.” Andy thinks it may have been just what Ephram needed. Before retiring for the night, Ephram remembers that he has a gift for Andy: grappa, which he assures his father he didn’t try for himself. Andy sincerely thanks Ephram, and gazes at the bottle and then off into the distance, deeply moved. Nothing says family unity like 140-proof liquor.

The grand opening and ribbon-cutting ceremony of Sam’s. Jake more or less calls the people of Everwood a bunch of slack-jawed hillbillies who feast on Slim Jims and Hostess Snowballs. Mercifully, Jake has come from a far-off land to bring culture to the primitive palates of Everwood, a mission which he will accomplish through this strange new establishment that will feature odd, foreign-sounding things like "pomegranate juice" and "fancy sandwiches." Jake thanks everyone for joining he and Nina on their “beautiful journey.” He also declares that those gathered are about to walk into a “culinary orgasm.” As the scandalized townspeople gasp, Nina quickly cuts the ribbon and ushers everyone into the restaurant. Ephram and Bright are among the crowd, and Bright tells Ephram that he can’t believe he came back just to see Edna and Irv renew their vows (and thank you for calling it that, Bright). “Dude, I almost didn’t go because of a Smurfs marathon.” They grab a table as Ephram explains that he ran out of cash and had no marketable skills, so he really had no choice. Bright wishes Ephram had contacted him sooner, before he got a roommate who’s “all gay and stuff.” Ephram asks if he has a problem with gay people, and Bright says no, but that he feels like he has to vacuum all the time. Ephram could still move in, though, since there’s a crawl space, which lacks doors but probably has enough room for a bed. Ephram declines the invitation and says he’d rather find something on his own, once he discusses the financial situation with Andy. Bright asks how things are going between them; Ephram says pretty well, and that they just needed some space. Bright changes topics, asking if he learned any good pick-up lines in France; he thought he might use one on his date with Hannah that night. Ephram assumes the date will involve pizza, but Bright says that he’s actually taking her to a real restaurant, where they have reservations and people who call him “Mr.” Ephram observes that he hasn’t seen Bright plan like this, ever. Bright admits that he’s growing. Why, upon being told by Nina that Sam's will not be offering Pigs-in-a-Blanket, he even accepts a Portobello Mushroom Something and enjoys it! Behold the civilizing power of the portobello!

Cute cut to Harold at the office, enjoying some cookies sent to Andy by one “Marian Williams.” Marian is a patient of Andy's whom Harold's never met or heard of. And...that's actually about all there is to this scene.

Bright and Hannah’s date. Bright is telling a story about his imaginary childhood best friend, Simon, when the waitress comes over. Noticing Bright, she gives him her best variation on the “Hello, Newman.” He greets her as “Candace,” which she corrects to “Meredith.” She continues to glare at Bright, who asks if they have any specials; she tells him they’re out, and drops the menus on the table before storming off. Hannah seems to find this just a tad jarring and asks what "that" was all about. Bright explains that “Candace” is a “freak show;” Hannah interrupts to correct him on the name, and Bright goes on to discuss Candith's anger issues, best exemplified by her screaming at a small child for talking during a movie. Hannah asks how long they dated. Bright tells her they went out only twice, and adds that it was “short even by my standards. I’m typically three dates and out.” Hannah stares at him aghast, while Bright peruses the menu and asks if she wants to split an appetizer. Bright is a moron.

Brown family dinner. Andy asks about Ephram’s plans. Ephram is thinking of taking a few classes at ECC, though he’s not sure yet what kind of degree he wants to pursue. Andy tells him to enjoy being a student and having a decent excuse not to enter the workforce. Noticing how well the conversation is going, Ephram announces his intentions to rent an apartment, since he obviously can’t live at home. Andy is amused that Ephram assumes he’ll pay for an apartment, and Ephram asks if he can’t afford that on top of school. Andy reminds Ephram that he has no idea what he wants to do with his life, and while he’s thrilled to support his academic pursuits, he doesn’t think Ephram’s adult enough to live on his own. Poor Delia tries to break up the argument by offering Ephram a serving of some green vegetable. Ephram ignores her generosity, annoyed that backpacking around Europe for three months still doesn’t make him adult enough to own his own fridge. Well, Ephram, let’s review: you ran away to Europe in order to escape from, rather than confront, your problems, and while I actually understood your actions, they didn’t necessarily show the highest level of mature decision-making. And while you may have supported yourself there, you only did so with the money you made by selling a gift from your father. And now you want to do all these "adult" things on Andy’s dime. I really, really hate to say it, Ephram, but I’m actually on Andy’s side here. Andy argues that if Ephram wants his own place, he has to find a way to pay for it on his own. Ephram snots that that’s what he’s used to doing, anyway. Yes, we just went over this: on money that indirectly came from your father. Ephram is a moron. The Brown men stalk off in opposite directions, leaving Poor Delia all alone to pick at her green vegetables.

Amy’s in her room, getting ready for her new waitressing job at Sam's, when Hannah stomps in and demands to know what “three dates and out” means. Amy doesn’t know what Hannah is talking about, or, for that matter, what anyone is talking about before 8 AM. Hannah clarifies that she’s referring to Bright. Amy can’t believe that he told her about that, and Hannah can’t believe that Amy never told her. Amy: "Did you really need me to tell you that my brother is an idiot? I mean, were you here for last year’s Sexual Harrassment Expo?” Hee! Though I’m still not sure why references to that make me laugh. Hannah mopes that tonight is their third date, so the relationship is over. Amy is actually the voice of reason (I know!), ascribing the “three and out” rule to “last year’s Bright,” and telling Hannah that she’s far better than any of the other girls Bright has dated. Hannah wonders if it’s possible for one person to change another, and Amy warns her not to expect any Beauty and the Beast-like transformations. In an amusing moment of Feminist!Amy foreshadowing, she briefly ponders the danger that film poses to the female psyche, though she did enjoy the teapot. Getting back on-topic, Amy explains that it's inevitable for two people who spend time together to influence each other. She starts to use herself and Ephram as an example, which prompts Hannah to ask if it was weird seeing him again. Amy says it was hard and she was sad, but now she’s all well and good, and if she can change, anyone can. Hannah points out that Amy’s change involved getting over Ephram, just as Bright is already over her. She flops back on Amy’s bed as Amy just shakes her head at her overdramatic friend.

Harold sends home a patient, advising him to check the date on the chili next time. He asks Louise what other boring ailments he’ll be dealing with that morning, and Louise tells him he’s free for the next two hours. She suggests he return to his “domino project,” but Harold says it’s at a very “sensitive juncture.” Noticing the quiet, he asks if Andy’s in his office, and Louise tells him he’s out until three; Harold checks the appointment book and sees that Andy’s blocked out 10:00 - 3:00 every Monday of that month. He marches into his office to consider the possible explanations, being careful to step over his impressive domino line-up in the process. Also impressive is the fact that he can do this without once looking down. He bites into a cookie, presumably another gift to Andy, and wonders again what a person might be doing for five hours each Monday.

Ephram and Delia at Sam’s. Delia is telling Ephram all about the Mexican vacation, and puts into the minds of the viewers the image of Andy in a Speedo. Thank you for that, Delia. Some customer named Wally complains to Nina about having to wait in line to be served, rather than being waited on at a table, and also complains about the new gourmet coffee. Nina tells him waiting in line is faster, and condescendingly asks if he’s actually tried the new coffee. He has, and didn’t like it; Nina replies that that’s because he’s an idiot. Oh, the burden of bringing civilization to the ungrateful masses. Ephram and Delia grab a table. Delia asks if he’s eating dinner at home that night, but Ephram says no and swiftly changes the subject, asking her to tell him about camp – which, she says, she already told him all about in her daily e-mails – or school, from which, she reminds him, she’s currently playing hooky. Ephram assures her that she won’t miss anything important and that he needs to see her sometime, given that he won’t be having dinner at home. Delia tries again, asking him if he doesn’t miss his own bed, but he says that he spent all summer sleeping on the ground anyway. Really? What, in parks, or something? Were there no youth hostels? This is all rather sad. Does explain how he stretched out that money, though. Ephram tells Delia not to worry about him. So she decides to be a noodge instead, calling Waitress!Amy over to join them. Delia starts things off, saying that she didn’t know Amy was working there, and Amy replies that it’s her first day. And I like that those two are still interacting, though there’s not much more of it to be had in the rest of the season. Ephram tells Amy that she looks very “official” in her uniform, and says that he can’t believe her father made her get a job, since his father’s on his case about it, too. Amy informs him that it was actually her idea, so she could have a little extra cash without having to borrow it from anyone. Amy leaves, probably pondering the dopiness of her ex, and Delia asks if she and Ephram aren’t friends anymore. Ephram says she’s just busy, and tells Delia to eat her sandwich.

Hannah is studying when she gets a call on her cellphone. Noticing it’s from Bright, she, quite literally, flails for a moment before regaining her composure and answering. Bright tells her that he’s got great plans for them that night: dinner at an Indian restaurant (which, he notes, has belly-dancers, which I find hilarious as a selling point here, because it was probably the main selling point for him), followed by a concert by a band she likes, some of the members of which wear glasses (Weezer?). He’s all happy about having been able to get tickets when the band’s only in town for one night, and then Hannah crushes his dreams. She says she can’t go, as she promised to do an extra-credit project for bio [in 12th grade? Not physics?], in which she has to stitch a rat. Ha! Hannah’s a very weird liar. Bright, disappointed, starts to ask what they should do instead; Hannah says they’ll just reschedule, and that she’ll talk to him later, and bye. After ending the call, she does another dramatic flop back onto her bed; in a nice moment of parallelism, Bright, who’s been sitting on the couch in his apartment, dramatically throws his head back. And gets a big eyeful of GratuitouslyShirtless!Reid, who walks past, brushing his teeth. Bright comments that “that was weird,” by which he means the phone call and not Reid (though it’s easy to get confused initially, watching the scene). He thinks that he’s just been blown off; Reid says that’s never happened to him, and Bright says that it’s never happened to him, either, so it couldn’t be that. He starts to call Hannah again when Reid suddenly picks up one of Bright’s shirts that’s laying on the chair and throws it at him. Bright comments on Reid’s fussiness. Because he's gay and all.

Andy pops by Nina’s office at Sam’s. He tells her that the place looks great, but he misses the stools. Nina resists the urge to play the world’s smallest violin, and just says that everyone has an opinion. Andy is about to leave, noting that she looks busy, but Nina asks him to stay so she has an excuse to avoid paperwork. She adds that at least as a waitress, she didn’t get papercuts on her fingers. Andy waxes philosophic about how we all think life will be better if we take a different path, but maybe we’re just kidding ourselves. Nina asks him to drop the metaphors and just talk about what he came there to talk about, because she’s too tired to process. He tells her what we already know: he and Ephram are fighting again, he came home, things were good, blah blah blah grappacakes, now it’s all fallen apart, blah blah blah onestepforwardtwostepsbackcakes. Nina thinks that Ephram’s coming home shows that he wants to be there, and mentions that he even brought Delia in earlier. This is news to Andy, who asks when. Nina replies “noonish,” which she quickly amends to “or later, probably later” when she notices Andy’s expression. Andy takes Ephram’s effrontery at pulling Delia out of school as an indication that he does want to fight with Andy, because of course everything that seemingly involves Delia is really about him, as we learned during the bedroom painting party of last season’s “Fallout.” Andy leaves, ready to do battle, but remembers to tell Nina that it was good to catch up with her. After Andy leaves, Nina mutters “damn,” knowing she’s really let Ephram in for it now.

Aw. Delia is offering to prepare a meal for Ephram. She says she can make cereal or olives, hee. Ephram gets up to leave when he hears the door slam. Andy enters the kitchen and demands to know why Ephram took Delia out of school. Ephram thinks Delia told, but Andy implicates Nina. Ephram sarcastically says that Andy’s always wanted them to spend more quality time together, which earns a “smartass” from Andy, and then continues that he’s not welcome at home anymore, so he had to find some other way to see Delia. Andy says that he’s welcome, reminding Ephram that he had offered to let him live at home, but Ephram was the one who walked out. Ephram blames Andy for creating “all of it” and not allowing him to move on. Andy says that now they’re back to Madison, and Delia asks what about Madison? Oops. Ephram wonders why Andy can’t admit that he owes this to him, and that if it weren’t for Andy he’d be at Juilliard now. Andy replies that he should be at Juilliard now. He says that Ephram came waltzing back in with his “European introspection,” but that he’s still “the same spoiled kid;” if he weren’t, he wouldn’t be doing things for the sole purpose of upsetting Andy, such as taking Delia out of school. Ephram: “Just so you know, not everything’s about you.” Thanks, Ephram! I don’t think Andy could hear me yelling the same thing at the TV set, so, much appreciated. Delia adds that she wanted to get out of school, so Andy tells her she’s grounded, and when she questions this, he asks if she wants to fight, too. Ephram wants to know if Andy’s solution to everything now is to “threaten us until we feel like a family.” It hasn’t been in the past? Ephram says that at least he wanted to change, and came back and gave things a try, which is more than Andy can say.

A new day dawns in the Bachelor Pad of General, but Not at All Surprising, Repulsiveness. Bright walks into the kitchen and takes a container of milk out of the refrigerator. He slams the door shut, and loudly tells someone – Ephram, on the couch – to get up. Ephram thanks Bright for letting him crash there, and promises that he won’t make it a regular thing, as the couch had a loose spring that’s “already taken six years off [his] life.” While Ephram’s talking, Bright is filling a large glass measuring cup with cereal and sniffing the milk to test its degree of spoilage. He tells Ephram that he should just live there, and Ephram asks if he’s talking about the closet again. Bright notes, while wiping a spoon on his shirt, that technically, it’s a loft, and that if Ephram doesn’t live there, it will just be turned into a study or something. (!!!) Bright says, around a mouthful of cereal, that they can fit a bed in there, and what else does he really need? He confirms that Ephram’s piano is gone and says good, then quickly apologizes. Ephram tells him that he makes a persuasive argument and says he will move in. I’m pretty sure that the thing that really sold him was the promise of catching this little breakfast performance each and every morning. Bright happily says they’re roommates, and also shows us how happy his partially-chewed cereal is. Ephram asks if he wants to catch a movie later, but Bright says he’s not sure; he was supposed to go out with Hannah, but she’s being weird, not returning his calls and then cancelling on him with a lame excuse. Just try that cereal thing on her, Bright, and she’ll be in your thrall forever. Ephram thinks it sounds like something Bright would do, which is what scares him: “Do you think she’s trying to phase me out?” Ephram tells him not to worry and asks what she said when he talked to her about it. Bright lamely asks if he can ask her about it, and Ephram says he’s supposed to; it’s called communication and it’s what relationships are based on. Bright is impressed by this revelation and tells Ephram that living with him [Ephram] will make him [Bright] ten times smarter. The only problem with this whole arrangement is the pronoun ambiguity it generates, because, honestly. I can only thank my lucky stars that Reid's at school or something.

Delia walks into the Brown kitchen where Andy is preparing breakfast, and, seeing him, says she’ll come back later. (Is this a weekend, or does she get up for school, like, two hours early?) He tells her not to do that, because the food will get cold and that would be tragic. Delia thought Andy was mad at her, but he says that he’s not, and that she’s not grounded, either. He apologizes for drawing her into his feud with Ephram, but she says that she’s already a part of it; she’s a sister and a daughter, she Chinatowns, and has a lot of responsibilities. She says that she feels sad for Ephram, because he doesn’t have a lot of friends, but thinks it’s cool that, for the first time, he actually wants to hang out with her. When he picked her up at school, “two of the really popular girls even thought he was hot. Isn’t that weird?” Andy: “.....uh.....” Hee! She says that “it’s not like it sucks hanging out with you, either,” to which he responds with a slightly dubious thanks. Delia suggests that if Ephram’s not coming over for dinner, she could have breakfast with him sometimes, or something. Andy says that she shouldn’t have to do this. Delia shrugs and says she doesn’t mind, but Andy says he does.

At Sam’s, Thurman takes a bottle from a beverage case and asks what “pomegranate juice” is. Nina tells him that it’s full of antioxidants; in his simple, uncultured way, he takes this to mean that it’s “medicinal,” and though Nina assures him it’s a drink, he asks if she can get him some apple juice instead. Nina flings two juice bottles to the floor and climbs on top of the counter, clinking a glass to get everyone’s attention. She announces that Mama Joy is dead; all that remains of the woman and her business is a publicity photo taken for the Pinecone. “So you can stop looking for the cheese grits, you can stop looking for the spinny stools and the sticky counters, and you can just give up on the shepherd’s pie, because we don’t do that kind of thing here anymore! Change is good, and if you just give it a try, you might even realize that sometimes, change is for the better.” While the masses stare at her blankly, with thoughts of uprising beginning to swirl through their minds, Thurman offers up a lone “right on,” deciding that he wants orange juice instead. Nina glances at him disdainfully. Ah, the upscale-coffee shop owner’s burden.

Harold sits in Andy’s office, legs crossed, flicking an eraser between his fingers. As Andy walks in, Harold greets him: “Hello, Dr. Brown. So pleasant of you to join us today.” Andy: “I’m sorry, Harold, am I late for my interrogation in a 1940s war movie?” Love. I still irrationally love that line, just as much as I did the first time I heard it. Harold replies that an interrogation is unnecessary, since he already knows what Andy’s been up to. Andy and I both think this should be good. Harold lists all the recent strange occurrences: hours taken off during the workday, “scrumptious” baked goods being sent to the office, Andy’s persistent good cheer even in the face of his “tempestuous” son’s return. Obviously, Andy is fathering a second family in Boulder. Andy: “Actually, they’re my third. My second one lives in Utah. [And again with the geographical in-joking! You just keep on keepin’ on with that, Andy.] Nice Mormon folk.” Harold is not amused. He knows Andy is up to something; if he doesn’t want to tell him what it is, fine. Andy confesses that he’s been performing surgeries at Colorado A&M, with a local surgeon serving as a proctor. In order to “get back into the game,” Andy needed to do five spinal and brain surgeries, under the proctor’s supervision, to prove that he was up-to-speed on the procedures. Andy first thought about getting back into surgery after performing Rose’s, but didn’t want to discuss it with Harold since he had so much to deal with then. He confirms that the aforementioned Marian Williams was one of his surgical patients.

Bright rings the doorbell at the House o’ Nina et al. Jake answers and wonders what Bright is doing there; Bright reminds him that he and Hannah are kind of involved. Jake looks confused, probably because he didn’t realize Hannah lived there, too, until, like, yesterday. He gradually remembers that she does live there, and that she is seeing Bright, and says that he guessed he thought he’d have a few more years before this moment. Now Bright is confused. “What, before I came to talk to Hannah?” Jake says that he means before “being the guy answering the door.” Bright is still confused, and just asks if Hannah’s there. Jake ushers him into the dining room, where Hannah’s studying, and informs her that Bright is there. Hannah: “Yeah, I got the visual.” Jake tells them he’ll be upstairs if anyone needs him, and wanders off, mumbling to himself about being “the guy.” Hannah remarks that Jake’s been talking to himself a lot since moving in. Bright asks what’s going on. Hannah asks if he wants a sandwich. Hannah’s very random in this episode. Bright’s not one to turn down an offer of free food, so they proceed into the kitchen. He says that he called her and asks if she got the message; she says she was going to call him back, but homework kept her busy. Bright replies that even if she did all the extra-credit work, which he assumes she did, she still wouldn’t be that busy. He asks again what’s up, and Hannah pauses in the sandwich-making process to remind him of “three dates and out.” Bright is confused, again, and she elaborates on its meaning; last night was going to be their third date. Bright is confused, again, but then catches on, saying that he can see how that might freak her out. “But, that doesn’t necessarily mean that’s how it’s gonna happen with us.” Oh, Bright. Sometimes words are not your friend. Hannah apparently agrees: “Necessarily?” Bright says that it’s not like he knows exactly what’s going to happen between them. *sigh* Hannah interjects that she doesn’t know, either. Bright continues, defending his telling her about the three dates policy as just his being honest about who he is as a person, and Hannah should be happy about that, blah blah blah honestyisthebestpolicycakes. Hannah wonders why she should be happy in the knowledge that Bright is going to dump her after three dates. “I’m not like some sacrificial virgin. I can’t just approach the altar with glee, pretending I’m giving my life to something greater.” Bright is confused, again. “Okay. I don’t know what you just said. All I heard was ‘virgin’...?” Heh. And, of course. Bright tells Hannah that if she avoids a third date because she’s afraid they’ll break up, they already are broken up, after only two dates. “You might as well be Candace.” Ha! Hannah: “Meredith!” Bright says that the point is, Hannah isn’t her. Waving a knife around, Hannah says fine, they should just do it. “Awesome!” Hee. Bright says great, date number 3, tomorrow night. Hannah: “Awesome!” Now she’s random and repetitive. I knew there was a reason I dug the girl. They angrily agree that they’re looking forward to it. Bright adds that it won’t be as great as the date he originally planned, which she says is fine. He sarcastically adds that he’s glad they communicated; is there anything else she’d like to share? Hannah thinks they’ve shared enough for now; “gotta save something, right?” She hands Bright the sandwich and he leaves, saying he’ll see her tomorrow. As he walks out, Hannah rolls her eyes at her dopey, hungry boyfriend.

Andy is seeing off a patient when Harold emerges from his office. Andy asks if he’d like to go to Sam’s for some fancy sandwiches. Apparently sandwiches are a thing with this episode. It’s like trying to spot the pineapple reference in each episode of Psych, but far more obvious and kind of weird on a show like this. Harold coldly replies that he’s not in the “lunching” mood, and returns to his office. Andy follows him, and notices the grand domino layout. He asks what’s going on with Harold, who says that he’s just trying to stay out of Andy’s way. “Since when?” Andy asks, carefully stepping over the dominoes, and Harold says since now; he doesn’t want to get too dependent on Andy, seeing as he has big fancy surgeries to perform and what-have-you. Harold asks if Andy really expects him to believe that he’d be content to distribute pills when he could be “rummaging around inside someone’s spinal cord.” Andy says yes; it’s why he moved to Everwood in the first place. Harold says that he moved there because he was in mourning and wanted a simpler life; now he’s “yearning for the big city and all the life-threatening diseases it holds.” Andy admits that he has missed surgery, but not because he’s bored; “it’s the one thing in my life that I do well.” He’s “lousy at love, a mediocre father,” and, according to Harold, “not even very funny.” Harold concedes that he has his moments. Andy says that he watched Ephram throw his gift away, and that he thought he might be doing the same thing, maybe out of fear of falling back into his jerky New York surgeon ways. He’s decided that he needs to find a balance, or else he won’t know if he’s changed or has just been hiding. Andy has a sudden epiphany and leaps up from the desk, careful to avoid the dominoes as he exits. Unfortunately, he slams the door, causing...a white tube thing [yes, I am an idiot who can’t identify random objects] to roll off the desk and strike one of the dominoes. It’s all very spectacular. Harold angrily mourns the ruination of “23 hours of artistry.”

Ephram is in his room at Casa Brown, going through his CD collection, when Andy appears in the doorway. Ephram tells him he’s moving in with Bright, and Andy replies that that makes sense. Which is kind of a weird reply to an announcement, but at least it doesn’t involve shouting, so whatever. Andy says he understands; he thinks Ephram wants to see if he can make things better, to apply anything he learned “out there” to make things better “here.” Okay. I know Ephram had this whole life-changing experience sleeping on the ground and attempting to communicate in other languages and being spat upon by the locals, or whatever, but with all this talk about “out there” and learning big lessons, I feel like he just came off of a two-year stint in the Peace Corps. He was in freaking France. Andy says that they’ll just see what happens to them after the move. Ephram asks if he’s seriously okay with that, and Andy says the only way they can figure this out is if something shifts. And if this conversation is not making a lot of sense, well, it flows marginally better on-screen. Ephram asks if Andy doesn’t think his moving in with Bright will shift them further apart. Andy says, “Not if we enforce a dinner policy.” Ephram is turned off by “enforce” and “policy.” Andy explains that he can’t trap Ephram at home, but he also can’t give him money just because he thinks he’s owed it. So Andy, apparently having attempted to fill the void left by Ephram’s absence with Gilmore Girls reruns, makes him an offer: $50 for every dinner at home. Ephram thinks it sounds vaguely illegal. Andy tells him to think of it as both of them getting what they need, and Delia getting what she needs without having to know the whole story. Ephram jokes that they'll need a book to keep track of the things they're not telling her. Andy writes his first check and tells him he’ll see him tonight. Ephram thanks him, not for the money, but for talking to him; his plan was basically to avoid dealing with anything that had happened. Andy thinks that in ignoring something, “pretty soon all we can remember is what it was we were trying to forget.” He again tells Ephram that he’ll see him later.

Bright and Hannah at Everwood’s eternal carnival. Is it still a carnival if it never, ever moves on? That might actually be creepier than an ordinary old carnival. Bright apologizes for hitting Hannah with a mallet, but says that Whack-a-Mole is crazy. They walk along, perfectly miserable, as Hannah tells him that it’s been really nice dating him. He protests, but she says she’s just saving him the trouble of breaking up with her. Bright denies that he’s going to break up with her, and Hannah says maybe not now, but by the end of the night. Bright: “Hannah! Please stop guessing what I’m going to do before I do it. It makes it hard to actually...do stuff.” He adds that that doesn’t mean he is going to break up with her, because he’s not. Hannah wonders why not, since they’re having a horrible time. Bright does agree with that. He says that he feels like the whole thing is his fault, but he’s not sure why, since all he did was tell the truth. Hannah insists that he hasn’t earned that yet, in this relationship. Bright is confused, again. They sit on a bench so that Hannah can unwittingly set in motion the ultimate collapse of their relationship. She starts off by saying that she loved hearing everything about him when they were friends, but it’s different now that they’re dating. She tells Bright that he needs to develop a censor; Bright thinks it’s a little late for that. “How are you supposed to un-know the stuff you know?” Hannah says she can’t, but there’s new stuff that Bright just shouldn’t tell her. Oh, Hannah. Bright thinks this means that Hannah wants him to play games with her. She says that’s not what she means, and refers back to the early days of their friendship. “We didn’t jump in and say all the really intense stuff right away,” such as about her father, because they were building something new and didn’t know if they could trust each other. Their dating relationship is new and different from the one they had before, so they need to start from the beginning. She doesn’t think they can say the really honest stuff yet because they haven’t gotten to that point yet; they need to earn it. Hannah! I could write a dissertation here on why this is just a bad idea all around, but I’ll refrain for space purposes. Suffice it to say, she’s proposing that they throw away the thing that makes them them. Poor Bright doesn’t know what he is or isn’t supposed to say. “Like, right now, there’s something pretty big in there, but I’m not sure if I should tell you, because it has to do with the whole ‘three dates and out’ thing.” Hannah doesn’t think anything could make the night worse than it already is, so he may as well go ahead. Bright: “Okay, here goes. I never wanted a fourth date before. Until now. I do. I want more. I want eighty more.” He leans in for a kiss, and they commence their second, completely warranted PDA in as many episodes.

Amy’s closing up Sam’s when Ephram comes in. She tells him they’re closing, but he ignores this. He says he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing, and asks if he should have e-mailed her while he was gone. So apparently he divided his time between “the ground” and “le café d'Internet.” He thought that she wanted space, but now he’s not sure that’s the right thing. He wonders if he should apologize, and Amy says that he didn’t do anything wrong. Ephram knows that something’s off, and “history shows that when something’s off, it’s usually my fault.” Well, not really in Season 2, unless you were responsible for Colin’s death or plying Eyebrows with the drugs and such. Ephram asks what he can do, and Amy says there’s nothing; she knows she should have said something sooner but hoped that there was nothing left to say. It took her a long time to get to this point, she admits; she spent the summer months basically going through a revised version of the grieving process. Oh, and also, in August she wrote him letters that she never sent. Just to keep this in mind for a few episodes down the line. Ephram asks if this means she’s over him now. Amy says no; she’s over “it. I can’t keep crying over you, Ephram.” Ephram doesn’t want her to, and then...asks if she met someone else. Interesting topical swerve there, Eph. Amy sincerely denies this, which is actually a pretty honest answer given that everyone still thinks Reid’s all gay and stuff. Amy says that she just doesn’t want Ephram to worry about the whole thing. Ephram asks why they can’t just go back to being friends. Amy, quite rightly, says that they were never friends, not really. “I mean, do you remember a time when there wasn’t something hanging over us? Something I wanted to say, but didn’t, something you wanted to say, but couldn’t. I can’t do it anymore.” Ephram asks what now; do they just not speak? Amy says that they’ll see each other around, just as they’re doing now. Amy remarks that he just had to come back, didn’t he. Ephram says that he never meant to mess things up so much, and Amy says she knows. She adds that they can still talk; they just can’t go back.

Musical montage time, set to Deb Talan’s “Forgiven.” Andy’s putting away food after dinner when he opens the refrigerator and sees Ephram’s check sitting on the shelf. Nina, still in her office, hangs up a framed copy of the original Mama Joy article from the Pinecone. Bright plucks a fake flower from a big bunch of...well, fake flowers, and offers it to Hannah in the way a cheesy romantic lead would do; she laughs at his goofiness and at the fact that he may have just committed theft and/or vandalism. It’s all very cute. Ephram sits in his car and plays creepy stalker, staring at Amy as she continues clean-up at Sam’s, except that it actually doesn’t come off as creepy at all, but kind of romantic and sad, and I say this very much as a non-shipper. He drives past the restaurant and she glances up before returning to her work.

Next time: Amy becomes a social outcast at college, Bright makes a big drunken fool of himself, and more fun with Andy, Jake, and Nina!

A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Part 2

Amy is in her room, talking on the phone with someone whom we can rightly assume is Hannah. She tells her that she doesn’t mind picking her up from the airport, but she doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want Bright to do it instead. She notes that Hannah’s becoming even crazier than she is, hee. Bright suddenly appears at Amy’s door and excitedly asks if that’s Hannah on the phone, at which moment Amy hangs up. While the siblings have a brief moment of bonding over shared use of hair product, Bright asks if Hannah didn’t want to talk to him. Amy points out that Hannah didn’t even know he was there, as he’s not the only one in the room, “Narcissus.” Bright: “I thought we agreed you weren’t gonna insult me in Spanish anymore.” He asks when Hannah is coming home (and incidentally, I find him referring to Everwood as her home awfully interesting in light of later developments, but that’s neither here nor there, until we’re actually, well, there), and Amy says in two days; she’ll pick her up at the airport and Bright can call her after that. Bright is rather disconcerted to hear that Hannah asked Amy to pick her up. Amy would like to move on to more important topics, such as her “new boyfriend, Reid!” Bright is more interested in finding out why Hannah doesn’t want him to pick her up. I’m getting tired of typing that phrase. Can we move on, please? Amy urges him to focus on Reid. Bright mentions that he called about the apartment, and Amy says that he has to pick Reid, he’d be a perfect roommate. Bright accuses her of wanting to stalk him outside the hospital. Amy insists that she’s not “stalking him, [she’s] admiring him; those are two very different verbs.” Hey! Someone’s a Spike fan! Bright strikes up a bargain: he’ll consider Reid as a roommate if Amy tells him what flight Hannah’s arriving on. “And, like, what time. And, like, other things I might not know about the airport, like, how to get there.” Which is cute, but a bit inconsistent, as he picked her up from the airport all the way back in “Fallout,” and offered to drive her there in “Where the Heart Is.” Unless there’s a new airport or something. Amy: “I don’t take kindly to manipulation, brother man.” Heh. And the Pot makes another call to the Kettle. But, she continues, she knows that Hannah would probably rather see Bright than her, but is afraid to say as much lest she appear needy. Amy continues her tour of paraphrased dialogue from iconic television shows of the last two decades: “I know that you know that that’s completely ridiculous, and I know that she’d rather see you than me...” Bright asks how much longer this will take, so Amy gets to the point: “Friday. 3:00. Parking lot C.” Bright grins and does some excited little gesture with his hands, and, when Amy asks if this means Reid is going to be his new roommate, he answers that, oh, yeah, he’ll look very carefully at his application. Ha. Amy kind of set herself up for that one. Rose comes in and happily hugs Bright, saying what a nice surprise it is to see him. Amy, feeling just a bit like the unfavorite child, reminds Rose that they have to leave if they don’t want to be late for her last round of chemo. Rose suggests that Bright just take her instead! On Amy’s behalf, ouch. Rose talks about how much they have to catch up on, while Amy interjects that she was already planning to take Rose to her appointment. Bright suddenly remembers that he has to meet with his landlord, but no worries; he’ll just reschedule. Amy weakly says that’s not necessary; she’s already there, “schedule free.” Rose, the Bright spell finally broken, snippily replies that they should just get going already, then, since she’s late enough as it is. Dude. For all the issues I had with Harold’s playing favorites in season 2, this scene certainly makes it clear that Rose can be just as bad. And Amy pathetically agrees: “She hates me.” Bright: “Not any more than the rest of us.” Mean, given the timing and all, but...still, good one. More seriously, he assures her that she’s being paranoid; Rose is fine. After Amy leaves, Bright takes a moment to check out a framed picture of Amy and Hannah and smiles slyly. Hopefully not at the thought of his sister.

That night, Andy leaves his office and notices Nina cleaning tables in her restaurant. He takes this opportunity to barge into the building uninvited and announce that they need to talk. Nina, it’s worth noting, does not appear to be at all hungover, though I’d love to see Edna right now. Andy gets the ball rolling by telling her how upset he is with her. Nina scoffs at this, and he indignantly asks if she doesn’t think he has a right to be. She, actually, thinks that he’s “a piece of work,” seeing as he professed his love, kissed her, took off, avoided her, and acted as though nothing happened. Andy lamely acknowledges his actions and apologizes, but basically claims that Nina’s failure to call was just as bad as anything he did, because it meant he was waiting. Nina: “You were waiting? That’s it? That’s all you got? I gotta admit, that’s pretty pathetic, even for you.” Round 1 to Nina! Andy won’t give up, though, deciding that he was wrong to expect her to keep a promise; he should have assumed she’d take the coward’s way out. This begins a nice little round of “Who left town first?,” which ends in a draw as Andy points out that Nina actually did leave town first, but she reminds him that she didn’t have much of a choice. Andy, feeling magnanimous, declares that they both did some questionable things; why, all he’s trying to do is apologize and she’s just being so unreasonable! Ah, women. Nina apologizes for the not calling, but says she couldn’t tell him over the phone. Andy already knows that she’s referring to having chosen Jake, and adds that he figured it out when a week passed without her calling. What he can’t figure out, however, is why? Nina gently says that there were a lot of reasons; Andy cites one as being the extravagance of Jake’s romantic gesture. Nina, who should be getting ready to slap Andy very hard in about a minute, testily asks if he really thinks that Jake bought her off. Andy: [shrugging spastically] “I don’t know, Nina, no! I mean---yes! Yes! I mean, I think I’m the better man, and I don’t understand why–“ Nina cuts off this charming display, agreeing that no, he doesn’t understand, and never has; that’s the problem. The spontaneous kissage was not romantic, but selfish, given the circumstances. Andy admits that though his timing may have been off, he was at least being honest, unlike Nina, who never told him about her feelings. Nina points out that there was never an opportunity; he was always with someone else. She argues that she’s not one to impose her issues on anyone unless they’re in a position to handle them, which Andy never has been. Andy protests that she should have given him a chance, but Nina tells him he had plenty, and storms off.

Bright is showing Reid around the grand apartment. Reid, to his credit, acknowledges its abnormal size, mentioning that one studio he saw was about the size of the bathroom but still went for $1200 a month. Bright tells Reid that he’s already talked to twenty people about the apartment. Reid is a bit daunted, but not so much so that he doesn’t get positively giddy over the closet space. (That sound you hear is the first “Reid is gay” anvil crashing to the floor.) Bright warns him against already making plans on where to put his shoe rack, as he doesn’t see things working out. Reid thinks he could probably fit five shoe racks in the closet, easy, but Bright clarifies: Reid is “all types of intellectualized,” being in med school and all, while Bright is only a couple of years younger but can “barely tie [his] own shoes” and is “thrilled” to be enrolled in junior college. Reid probably “wakes up with the morning paper, and coffee, and donuts, although donuts are perfectly fine...” Reid tells him not to worry about it. He takes a moment to psychoanalyze Bright, remarking that after seeing twenty applicants, it’s pretty clear he’s not looking for just any roommate. Bright admits that he’s right; he’s actually waiting for his best friend to “get his crap together and come home from wherever the hell he is.” I’ll help, Bright: EPHRAM! COME BAAAAACK! And if he’s home by episode’s end, you can thank me. Reid thinks it’s odd that Bright doesn’t know Ephram’s whereabouts but is reserving the room for him. No one actually asked you, Reid. Bright says that it sounds worse out loud. Reid thinks that it sounds like every complicated relationship he’s ever had. (That sound you hear is the second “Reid is gay” anvil landing on the first one.) Reid notices a framed picture of Bright and Colin, which actually appears to have been taken during Amy's "Last of Summer" fantasy sequence, and asks if he’s the guy; when Bright says no, Reid comments, in an awfully sentimental way, that he looks just like Doug, his old partner. (That sound you hear is the third “Reid is gay” anvil bouncing off the first two and bonking the collective audience on the head before clattering to the floor.) Reid explains that they lived together until Doug had to move back to Boston, while Bright makes goofily awkward faces in an effort to reassert his heterosexuality. He says that Doug’s moving away must have sucked, and takes back the picture of Colin, stressing that they were just friends. Reid has appointments to get to, but he leaves Bright with this parting thought: he has a plasma TV. He also wishes Bright good luck with his friend, because he knows how hard it is to make new best friends after a certain point. Bright agrees, and Reid’s housing situation is suddenly looking a whole lot brighter. Oh. Sorry for that. No pun intended, really.

The Laboratory of Mad Doctor Abbott. Hilariously, spooky sci-fi music plays over the first part of this scene, all ooo-ooo-EEEE-oooo. A begoggled Harold adds dry ice to his lavish floral arrangement, for reasons still unclear to this viewer, at least. He commands Louise to turn on the large fan that’s been placed right in front of the arrangement. Whatever Harold is hoping to accomplish here starts off well enough, but the air gusts begin to overwhelm his delicate centerpiece; when Louise is unable to stop the fan, per Harold’s increasingly frantic orders, the arrangement is knocked backwards, sending flower petals and fake birds everywhere. Harold utters six immortal words: “You bring nothing but misery, woman.” As Harold stoops to collect centerpiece detritus, Andy stomps in and tells Harold that he talked to Nina; he also asks if there’s a parakeet on the floor. Hee. Harold wants to know how the talk went, and Andy only answers after making himself comfortable on the couch: “Highlights are that I’m selfish, I’m egomaniacal, and I wouldn’t deserve her even if she wanted me, which, by the way, she doesn’t.” Yes, but tell us something we haven’t known for a while now. Andy says that he actually had a great speech prepared, in which he would have expressed support and understanding for Nina’s decision and promised to always be there for her, instead of, y’know, calling her a coward, which, he exclaims to Harold, he didn’t mean to do. Andy bemoans the fact that he’s a 52-year-old man lying on a couch, crying about a woman. Harold, looking every inch the therapist as he sits in a chair facing Andy and jots something down in his notepad, declares that while Andy and Nina may have hit a “wee bump in the road,” it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Andy replies that Nina doesn’t love him, so there’s nothing to fix. Harold asks if she actually said that, and argues that her other words were said in anger, which is reasonable and will pass. He asks again if she denied loving Andy, which Andy admits she didn’t; she only said that she had “reasons” for choosing Jake. Harold dismisses Nina’s reasons as probably bad or temporary, and it occurs to me that, while Harold’s being a very good friend to Andy, it’s a good thing he’s not particularly close with Nina or else he’d kind of suck right now. Andy frustratedly asks if he’s supposed to challenge Jake to a duel. He refuses to humiliate himself again when Nina’s made herself perfectly clear. Harold suggests that Nina may not know what she wants, but that if Andy’s unwilling to feel humiliated for the time it takes her to figure things out, he probably doesn’t deserve her. Andy appears thoroughly chastened, actually much more so than he did in any of his scenes with Nina. But, after all, Harold is his true love.

Amy types away on her computer; she’s got at least a document and a game of solitaire open, and I reminisce about the days when I used to do the same thing, a whole three minutes ago. Rose brings in a basket of laundry that Amy had left in the dryer, and Amy is quick to tell her that she didn’t have to do that. Rose asks Amy why she keeps doing “this;” Amy accuses Rose of being the one acting weird. Rose explains that she wants to know why Amy’s living at home for the year instead of on-campus and why, for that matter, she’s going to A&M instead of Princeton. Amy insists that she’s needed at home, as much as Rose doesn’t seem to want the help. She tells Rose that she can stay mad at her, even though she doesn’t think she deserves it and even though she knows Rose isn’t really mad. Rose says that, actually, she is mad at Amy. Amy: “You mean you are? Seriously?” Rose accuses Amy of “mothering and patronizing” her (hmm. Is that an etymological oxymoron?), charges which Amy denies. Rose says that she feels like a job that Amy wants to do well in order to make Harold proud, but that Amy is really disconnected from her and everything she’s going through. Amy is sorry...that Rose feels that way. Rose confesses that she hates that Amy gave up Princeton for her, and that she does need Amy but hates knowing that she does. “Parents shouldn’t need their children this much—it’s unnatural.” Amy assures her mother that she wants to stay at home and is happy in her decision. Rose figures that Amy will resent her for it someday. Amy wonders why Rose never told her any of this before, and Rose says that Amy can be hard to talk to; Amy admits that she feels the same way about Rose, but points out that they haven’t had much practice. Rose tells Amy that she’ll ask Harold to take her to her next few appointments, since Amy’s classes are starting soon and she needs time to be a college student. Amy puts her foot down at this; she’d like to keep taking Rose to her appointments, because while they haven’t talked much in the past, there’s no reason they can’t start now. Rose is visibly touched, and kisses Amy on the forehead.

The Airport of Burgeoning Love and Temporary Public Humiliation. Bright gets a call on his cellphone, which turns out to be from Hannah, who demands to know what he’s doing there. When he starts looking around, she orders him to stay where he is. As Hannah bemoans Amy’s betrayal, Bright totally ignores her request and continues to look around, asking where she is. Hannah agrees to tell him only if he promises not to approach her until she says he can. She points him in the direction of a large pillar, from behind which she waves one arm. Bright, naturally, heads toward her, and when Hannah calls him out for breaking his promise, he replies that he didn’t think she was still looking. Ah, the days when Bright violating Hannah’s trust was cute and not devastating. Hannah wonders why Bright is even there, and she adds that it’s very awkward. Bright: “Why? Do you have another dude with you?” Hannah replies indignantly that no, she does not, and finally gives up, stepping out from behind the pillar. Heavens to Betsy, I don’t know where to begin with this, except to say that Sarah Drew is one heck of a good sport. Hannah looks about as ridiculous as a white Midwestern girl could possibly look after a Jamaican family cruise, complete with cornrows and an impressively orange complexion. Bright: “Whoaaa...” Heh. Hannah tells him not to speak, as there’s nothing he could say that would make the moment anything other than “utterly horrifying and fodder for [her] future therapy sessions.” She continues: “There are a lot of reasons why I didn’t want you picking me up today. The fact that my hair actually produces sound at the moment wasn’t even the biggest one.” Bright is intrigued, and deeply impressed when she demonstrates her hair’s newfound abilities. And this is just one more reason that Bright is awesome. Hannah resumes her explanation, going on at length about how, while their kiss was amazing and she thought about it all summer, she knows he may have decided that it didn't really mean anything. "I just wouldn’t want us to not be able to be friends because of a stupid kiss, not that I thought it was stupid, but, you know, again, if you did, that’s...fine." And for the second time this episode, I see entirely too much of myself in a female character's speech patterns. Bright is silent, and Hannah nervously gives him the go-ahead to talk. Bright says okay, and Hannah asks again why he’s there. Bright simply says that he missed her, and if one remembers Amy's relationship advice to him in “A Mountain Town,” he’s just said quite a lot indeed. They kiss, and Bright asks Hannah to be his date to a “wedding” next weekend. The couple heads over to baggage claim, and Bright actually brings out the postcard and asks her what the deal is with the scribble. Hannah replies that she was just trying to get the pen to work. Bright says that that’s what he figured. Heh. I bet we're missing an earlier scene in which he agrees to take Reid on as a roommate as long as Reid agrees to analyze the postcard using the latest lab equipment.

Nina et al’s. Jake sits in front of the bedroom mirror applying night cream (of course he does) while Nina walks in, saying that tomorrow, she is not waking up until “never” [sic]. Jake reminds her that they have a meeting at nine with the Vitamin Water people about carrying their product in the restaurant. Nina declares that water is bad and vitamins are evil, because she’s on a mission to combat any instance of product placement that she encounters. The two get cuddly, and Jake asks if she’s had any new ideas for a name. Nina jokes that they could always just use a new name each week, as their “thing,” or maybe the townspeople could choose a name. Jake says that he had another idea. As he retrieves something from under the bed, he tells Nina not to feel married to the suggestion, as it’s “just a mock-up.” He finally reveals a sign saying “Sam’s.” Nina is moved, and Jake goes on; he says that while the restaurant may have begun as a business investment, it was really an investment in them and their new life, of which Sam is one of the biggest parts. Jake adds that it’s only fitting, too, since the restaurant will be his someday. Nina loves both the name and Jake. Jake says that he loves her, too, but Nina insists that she loves him, “really, truly, in a big way.” Jake observes that this seems to surprise her, but she says no; while she always knew what a great guy he was, she didn’t know how much he meant to her, and she can’t bear the thought of not being with him. He says he feels the same way. Nina decides to finally come clean with Jake. Though I prefer to think that he already knows something’s up, because otherwise, he truly is that oblivious, which is just all kinds of sad.

The following evening, Bright and Amy are on their way to pick up Hannah, who, at this point, seems to live in an alternate dimension version of Nina’s house that somehow exists simultaneously with the one that Jake just moved into. Thanks to the between-episodes intervention of a mystical healer whom Ephram brings back with him from Europe, this situation will be rectified by the next episode, with both dimensions collapsing into one. So, in any case, Bright exposits to Amy that he’s only driving her because her car [would this be the Kia Sorrento? Sorry, Nina] is in the shop, and that she shouldn’t get used to being the third wheel on his dates with Hannah. Amy argues that “Grandma’s wedding doesn’t count as a date, loser,” but Bright asserts that tuxedo = date. Amy calls him an idiot, but remembers that he is good for something, and asks about Reid. Bright casually says that he’ll be moving in that weekend, and Amy asks if he’s messing with her, which he assures her he is not. He adds that he can see why Amy likes him, to which Amy responds with smiles and nods, but that it’s “too bad he’s gay.” Amy is stunned, and Bright reiterates that, “Yep, Reid’s a big homosexual.” Bright leaves Amy to mull this over, while he walks up to meet Hannah. Hannah's hair has been restored to normalcy and she's wearing an orange dress that I kind of covet, though not as much as I coveted the pastry slutbag prom dress. Sorry for the sudden hyperfocus on costuming, but for someone with such an argyle-laden wardrobe, Hannah’s really got excellent taste in formalwear. While Bright gives her a “Wow,” Amy pops her head out the window to ask exactly how gay Reid is. Unfortunately for Bright, Hannah spots Amy and the two launch into a high-pitched discussion of how gorgeous the other looks and how good it is to see each other again. I would say that it’s all very stereotypical and not at all how young women actually act, except that it’s, um, not terribly inaccurate. Bright looks on, clearly cursing cruel fate for leading him into the arms of his little sister’s best friend.

Brown kitchen. Andy calls Delia to hurry up, or they’ll miss the appetizers. Nina saunters in – and she really does, too, which seems rather inappropriate given the situation, but, there you go – adding that she knows the crab cakes are excellent because she chose the caterers. Andy says that she looks beautiful. She asks if it’s too late to apologize; Andy tells her it’s not necessary, but she says she wants to anyway. She was angry, and Andy admits that she had every right to be, but she says that the anger covered up a bigger issue; getting the meanness out of the way clarified things. She tells Andy that she loves Jake. Andy, to his credit, says that he’s happy for her; she’s happy for her, too. She loves Jake more than she even realized, which is how she came to realize that Andy’s not really in love with her; he only thinks he is. The year before, she thought she felt the same way about him, but it was only because “sometimes, when you get to that empty place, and there’s someone who understands you, it’s easy to confuse that feeling for love.” Andy lamely says she might be right, though his expression indicates that his feelings run deeper than that. Nina wants to be friends again, as does Andy. Hugs all around!

The "wed–I can’t do this anymore. The vow renewal. Irv begins, saying that if he were to sit down to write his life story, this would be the best chapter, and Edna his inspiration. Edna tells Irv that he took her broken heart and fixed it, then carried it away with him. She promises it will always be his, until “forever runs out.” Irv asks if he can kiss her now. The minister/priest says not yet, but Irv, ever the rebel, says “To hell with that” and goes in for the kiss anyway, while all applaud.

Reception. Harold plays with one of the birds in his ginormous centerpiece. Bright looks for a place to set down his plate, and Harold shoos him away, telling him to hold his chicken in his lap. (Again, not dirty. But hee, nonetheless.) Andy finds Nina sitting alone, as Jake’s gone out to the car to get her wrap, and asks her to dance, as a friend; she, as we already know, accepts. A mopey-looking Amy hangs out with the appetizers and booze, prompting Rose to ask if she’s okay. She reminds Amy of their agreement to talk more and says that she might be able to help. Amy: “I have a crush on a gay guy.” Rose: “More champagne?” Heh. Now we pick up with the earlier scene, with Andy and Nina, Bright (who apparently found a place to put his chicken) and Hannah, and a wide assembly of never-before-seen couples dancing, while Jake watches. Jake walks up to Andy and Nina and asks if he can cut in, and Andy, quite cheerfully, lets him. Poor Delia sits alone at a table, yawning, and Andy asks if she’s ready to go home. She sadly says yes, and as they start to leave, she glances up and spots, amidst the dancing couples – EPHRAM! Ephram! You’re home! All is right with the Everworld! Delia greets him as excitedly as I just did, while Andy looks on with pride in his son for coming through for his sister. Amy notices him, too, and isn’t quite sure what to do now. Ephram, still being hugged by Delia, smiles at all.

Next time: Andy is interrogated in a 1940s war movie and pretends to be Emily Gilmore, Bright is a little dumb but mostly wonderful, and Ephram and Amy share a scene that actually almost makes me support their pairing.