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.