Across the Lines

Well, this is new: Andy and Jake are walking down the sidewalk, chatting. Jake is telling Andy all about a new patient he has, who came in requesting body hair implants. Mercifully, we’ll never have to see the guy. Andy questions if this even qualifies as plastic surgery, which Jake asserts it does not. “Nip/Tuck is making a complete mockery of my profession.” Hee! Andy: “And yet, you continue to watch.” Aw, it was only a matter of time before these two worked things out and started having lively, friendly, fun-to-watch-and-recap conversations. Jake laughs, and asks what else he’s supposed to do with his time, since he’s cut back on his office hours. Andy mentions that he and Harold get together a couple of times a month to discuss cases, and invites Jake to join their “round table,” citing his [apparently Harold-urged] helpfulness with Ruth from the last episode. Jake asks if he really means it, prompting Andy to confess that it’s “less of a round table and more of a Scrabble-and-pastries kind of a thing, with a little medicine thrown in.” Jake declares his love for both Scrabble and pastries. Andy is glad of it, as he needs another player to challenge Harold when he uses made-up words. (LYING again, Harold? Tut.) Jake is very much in, and Andy cheerfully tells him that he has to supply the pastry. It’s all good, when suddenly a car swerves down the road and rams into a telephone pole. Andy and Jake rush to the scene of the accident; Jake gets into the passenger’s side of the car, while Andy stands outside the driver’s side window. Jake asks Andy if he smells “that” – presumably alcohol – which Andy does. Jake asks the driver for his name, which is ‘Ed Carnahan.’ Ed has a nasty-looking head wound, which Jake tells him they’ll treat. Andy observes that Ed’s pulse is “weak and thready,” and begins to repeat Ed’s name as he drifts out of consciousness. Jake orders a bystander to call 911, which Random Bystander hurries off to do. Jake tells Ed to “hang in there” while we head to the credits.

Reid storms into the apartment, reading a piece of paper and fuming that “this is such crap!” Ephram, reclining on the couch with a book, asks if his gym membership was cancelled again. Heh. Then: “Sorry, I just–I can’t help it. The sarcasm just slips out of me.” Marry me, Ephram. Reid is not feeling the love, however, as he informs Ephram that he can’t deal with it right now. Reid then gets scary, as he hurls the paper across the room and yells that he feels like “BREAKING something!” Whoa. Ephram sits up and offers his own “whoa,” along with the remark that he’s “never seen the Angry!Reid action figure before” and didn’t even know they made one. Fortunately for Ephram's sake, Reid basically ignores him and explains that according to that piece of paper, he’s been put on academic probation and is close to losing his scholarship. Ephram agrees that the situation “sucks,” and wonders if there’s any chance it’s a mistake. Reid doesn’t think so, as his “GPA’s on life support” and he’s been behind in his classes from the beginning. He rants that the workload is such that it seems like everyone should be failing. Ephram suggests that he talk to someone. Reid points out that he’s already talking to Ephram, but Ephram clarifies that he means someone actually qualified to help Reid. “I mean, I find community college challenging, and I think we both agree that Bright’s advice is limited to cheeseburgers and porn.” Hee. Reid’s unamused, and pointedly asks if Ephram thinks he needs a shrink. Ephram says it might help, but Reid freaks that his “brother’s the one with all the head doctors. I am going to become a head doctor. Big difference.” Ephram backs down from this a little, and asks if he has a guidance counselor. Reid does, but doubts ‘Dr. Franco’ will be much help. Ephram cuts him off before he can complete this thought, though, and encouragingly says that Reid and Franco can get together and chat about med school and Reid can learn new study skills. Reid looks at the letter again, and slowly decides that it might be a good idea, since Dr. Franco’s probably dealt with other students in the same boat. “I mean, I can’t be the only one in my class having a tough time.” Here’s the point when I actually start to find Reid rather compelling, as he keeps trying to convince himself that his academic problems are normal and fairly common, while also growing increasingly desperate about the situation. So: it took fourteen episodes, but you’re finally relevant, Reid! Yay! He smiles, and thanks Ephram before leaving.

Back to the accident. The paramedics are loading Ed into the ambulance, while Jake and Andy are filling them in on his concussion and broken ribs. Jake adds that his blood pressure’s low, which could indicate internal bleeding, and tells them to check his spleen; Andy recommends a CAT scan. EMT guy is like “I’m not actually a moron, fellows!” The scene cuts to Jake and Andy entering Jake’s office. Andy comments on how much that was to deal with before morning coffee; Jake thinks it’s a better adrenaline-booster than coffee. Andy chalks this up to “youth,” then, his cellphone in hand, says that he’d better call the police about the accident. Jake proposes that they wait a bit before informing them, until after they hear Ed’s story. Andy thinks Ed’s story is already pretty clear: “Guy gets drunk, guy crashes car.” Jake admits that he wants to talk to Ed first, and hastily assures Andy that it has nothing to do with Jake’s own substance abuse problems, no sirree! Andy asks if he and Ed are friends, which Jake replies that they are not, nor had they ever met prior to the accident. Jake does, however, “feel for him.” He notes that Ed may not survive surgery, and asks if it’s necessary for them to bring his family even more pain by getting the police involved. Andy, however, thinks the police will discover it eventually anyway. Jake reiterates that they should hold off on calling for the time being. Andy relents and says they can wait until after the surgery. Jake responds with a somewhat-short “Fine. Great.”

Sam’s. Amy’s very busy doing her waitress thing, when Hannah bursts in, all peppy, and tells Amy to guess what’s finally there! Amy, who doesn’t have a whole lot of time for this, lamely guesses summer vacation. Hannah, however, is referring to In Her Shoes, and adds that she doesn’t know why movies take so long to arrive in Everwood. A cranky customer asks them if they know why it takes so long to get a table. Hannah seems chastened, and helps Amy clear off the nearest table. As they walk away, Hannah continues that she thought she and Amy could go see it, if Amy’s free and doesn’t currently hate Cameron Diaz, with whom Amy runs “hot and cold.” Amy’s seeming reluctance, though, has nothing to do with Ms. Diaz and everything to do with the fact that she already saw the movie. Amy apologizes, explaining that ‘Kate’ and the already-seen Beth invited her after class one day; since Amy wasn’t sure where she and Hannah stood, she went. Hannah is sad. Noting this, Amy says she’ll just see it again. Hannah tells her not to worry, but Amy calls herself a “jerk.” Hannah insists that she’s not, and concedes that Amy is right about their recent lack of communication. Amy remarks that it seems like they’ve been “fighting over all this weird stuff,” and assures Hannah that she and Amy can disagree. Hannah asks if they really can, and Amy declares that she can vote Republican as much as she wants. Hannah reminds Amy that she can’t vote yet. Amy: “See? Even better.” Aw, it was only a matter of time before these two worked things out and started having lively, friendly, fun-to-watch-and-recap conversations about politics. So much harmony in the relationships in this episode! Nothing can happen to destroy all this lightheartedness. Amy asks what Hannah’s plans are for the next day; they were to involve Bright, but Hannah has no problem canceling, since she already sees him every day as it is. Amy says that she and Hannah can just hang out together, then: “No politics, no rallies. Just food and girl talk.” Hannah claps her hands giddily and exclaims that she loves “girl and food talk!” Hee. Amy gives her a look, and Hannah corrects herself. They say goodbye just before Amy departs to go waitress some more. Hannah remains where she is, all blissful about the reunion.

Harold enters the Abbott Den of Iniquities. He sighs to himself about the “sweet symphony of silence,” but then breathes deeply and notices an unexpected and illegal scent. He also hears Rose and some guy laughing. He peeks into the living room and suspiciously asks “Rose?” Rose and the guy are sitting on the couch; the guy is holding up a joint. As Harold steps into the room rather trepidatiously, Rose effusively declares that he’s home! Harold asks, unnecessarily, if someone’s been smoking marijuana in their living room. The guy chuckles that they probably should have done it outside, though Rose starts to protest. Harold asks the guy who he is [thank you, Harold!]. He stands to shake Harold’s hand, and identifies himself as ‘Bill Schmicker.’ Rose adds that Bill is a member of her cancer support group. Harold wonders where the rest of the group is, or if, after a few weeks, it’s come to consist solely of Rose and Bill. Rose explains that the others left about half-an-hour earlier, and goes on about how great the meeting was and how comfortable all the members are with each other. Clearly. Bill agrees. Harold repeats my “clearly” [I swear I didn’t even catch him saying that until after I typed it myself. Which is...mildly weird, as it’s the second time this episode I’ve had a reaction identical to that of one of the characters], then says, a little perturbedly, that he was under the impression that the purpose of the support group was for cancer victims to discuss their feelings. “Apparently, it’s about getting high!” You can’t tell by reading it, but as delivered by Tom Amandes, that line rocks. Rose laughs, and Bill does too, as he announces that he should probably go. Harold hopes that Bill won’t be driving himself home, in his condition. Bill: “No, I can drive with cancer.” *insert stoned-sounding laughter from he and Rose, something like, “hehhhhh-hee-hee-hee-bwah-hah-hee-hee-hee-heh-snort”* Harold rolls his eyes. Bill explains that he lives nearby and walked to the Abbott home. Harold is silent, but gives him a delightful little nod and smirk, signifying his great pleasure that Bill can theoretically just drop by and get high whenever he darn well pleases. Bill and Rose stare at Harold for a moment, mildly confused, until Bill remembers what he was doing and gives Rose a big goodbye hug, which lasts about ten seconds and also involves Bill thanking her a lot and also kissing her on the cheek. Harold points out the baggie of joints on the coffee table. Bill’s all “Duuuuuude! Don’t wanna forget those heh-heh-heh-heh!” He also compliments Harold’s typically argyle sweater. He finally says good night, and Rose goofily waves goodbye. Harold offers a crisp “Good night.” After he leaves, Harold turns to Rose and asks if any other members might be “lurking behind the curtains, committing felonious acts?” Rose confidently asserts that Bill was the last, but suddenly recalls that “Mary Pringle went to the bathroom a while ago, and I don’t recall seeing her leave, so you may want to knock.” I don’t think Rose is actually joking. Harold wonders if that’s all she has to say. Rose is about to say more, but the munchies suddenly interrupt her train of thought: “Would you like some pie? I am starving.” Harold’s only response is to stare at his wasted wife.

Office of Dr. Franco, according to the nameplate on the wall beside his door. Dr. Franco is very confident he can cure all that ails Reid, since he’s already seen two other “panicky students.” He ascribes Reid’s “blanking” to anxiety and advises hypnotism. Reid, however, doubts anxiety is the issue, mentioning how overwhelming it is to learn all the material. Dr. Franco agrees that the workload is intense, and asks how many hours a day Reid studies. Reid looks a little stunned, but Dr. Franco recommends, just a wee bit patronizingly, that Reid double his study time. Reid, however, for all his problems, does know that there are 24 hours in a day, and that doubling his daily study time will take him into Day 2. Dr. Franco laughs, but Reid, very seriously, explains that he averages about 14 hours. Yowza. Dr. Franco looks at him a moment, then realizes that Reid is serious. Reid is understandably worried now, and groans that he “knew it was bad.” Dr. Franco takes a new path, and suggests that “sometimes we’re blocked because our destiny isn’t what we think it is. It’s the universe’s way of nudging us into another direction.” Does the university know that it hired a counselor who essentially advises people on the basis of astrology? Dr. Franco encouragingly concludes that “not everyone is cut out for med school.” Reid asks if this means that Dr. Franco doesn’t think he can be a doctor. Dr. Franco dodges the question by saying that there are other careers Reid could pursue if his main goal is to help his brother and others like him. Reid angrily stands, and denies that there are any other paths: “I want to help people this way, not through some bogus social work crap.” So, for those of you keeping track, Reid has now insulted: people who see mental health professionals, and social workers. Dr. Franco also stands, and backs down a little, commenting that he doesn’t know Reid well and isn’t telling him to quit. He urges him to make it through the first year and to take care of himself, because it will all get better. Reid “thanks” him for the “help” [sarcastic quotes seem apropos here] and leaves, looking defeated.

Morning in the Abbott house. Rose comes down the stairs and greets Harold, already sitting at the kitchen table, good morning. Harold remarks that her “downward spiral into degeneracy has yet to make it into the Pinecone.” Rose wonders if he has to be so dramatic. I wonder if Rose has met Harold. As she pours herself some coffee, Harold notes that, since Rose has probably lost her short-term memory, she’s likely forgotten that he’s still waiting for an explanation of what transpired. Rose calls it “nothing,” which Harold disputes, as he found her in their house, using an illegal substance with a strange man. Rose pauses a moment before replying, somewhat icily, that Bill is being hit hard by chemo, and that his oncologist recommended marijuana to increase his appetite. Harold, however, wonders how Rose’s also smoking pot was of any help; “last I checked, you don’t share a stomach.” Rose exclaims that Bill was scared, as he had never done it before, and adds that she herself only “took one hit.” Harold is just a little appalled that she’s using pot lingo. “I suppose next we’ll be listening to Pink Floyd over dinner!” Hee. Better rent The Wizard of Oz while you’re at it. Rose protests, but Harold offers the possibility of Amy or Bright having walked in. Rose asserts that she was just helping a friend, which is what people in a support group are supposed to do. Harold, however, rebuts that he didn’t see a group, but Bill: “And what, pray tell, makes Bill your personal responsibility? Is there no one else in this group that he can get stoned with?” Harold says these two italicized words in the tone of someone pointing out what the cat just regurgitated. Rose realizes that Harold is jealous; rather than actually responding to these charges, Harold tells her not to change the subject, which means he’s totally jealous. Rose apologizes for her “snafu,” and leaves to take a shower. Harold encourages her to “shower away,” and returns to the newspaper, looking mildly amused.

Ed’s hospital room. He awakens at the sound of someone – Jake – flipping through a clipboard. He observes that Jake is the doctor who rescued him. Jake replies that he’s “one of them,” and asks how Ed feels. Ed would rather hear a doctor’s opinion of how he actually is. Jake leans over to check on Ed’s head injury, but Ed remarks that Jake’s presence is hardly necessary, as Ed is in a hospital and all. Jake says that he wanted to be “thorough,” and also wanted to ask Ed a question: has he ever considered getting professional help? Ed responds that he used to go to daily AA meetings in Denver, but that it never worked for him. Gee, what a peculiar coincidence that both he and Jake have found twelve-step programs unhelpful! What could it all mean? Ed continues that he guesses he might just be “built this way;” and concludes that alcohol seems like the easiest way to dull his pain, and he doesn’t know how to “stop it.” Jake wonders if this last part is referring to the drinking, or the pain. Ed thinks it’s both. After a moment, Jake tentatively suggests that Ed may have wanted, “deep down inside,” to crash his car. Ed takes this in, and finally replies that he was trying to hit rock bottom, to get to a point where there was nowhere to go but up. Jake remarks that he appears to have hit that point. Ed starts to choke up a bit, and backstories that his wife had given him multiple ultimatums, and has now left him. Jake asks, intensely, if Ed really wants to recover. He says that as long as Ed promises that he will, in whatever way works best for him, Jake will keep the police from getting involved. This seems just a wee bit shady. Ed promises, and Jake cautions that he’ll be checking up on Ed to make sure he keeps his word; if not, Jake will contact the police. Ed wonders why Jake cares so much, given that he doesn’t know Ed. Jake says that, actually, he kind of does, and explains that someone gave him a second chance when he needed it. Ed says nothing, but looks appreciative. Jake, in turn, looks determined.

Amy and Hannah’s Day of Girl and Food Talk is taking place at a Moroccan restaurant, and also includes Amy’s new friends Beth and Kate. Interestingly, food talk is actually occurring, as Amy comments on how great the place is, and Beth explains that she’s “obsessed” with discovering new restaurants on-line, and wonders how people ate before the internet. Kate laughs that her sentence made no sense. Hannah looks uncomfortable, particularly when Beth picks up a carafe of some kind of liquor and prepares to pour Hannah a glass. Beth assures her that the restaurant doesn’t card, but Hannah explains that she doesn’t drink. Amy gives Hannah a slightly disdainful sidelong glance. Shut up, Amy’s eyes. Beth says, awkwardly, that it’s “cool,” but glances at Amy as if to ask where Amy found this loser. A belly dancer starts making her way over, and Beth raves over how “amazing” she is, oversharing that she taught Beth some scarf dance that she ended up using on her boyfriend. She adds, for good measure, that it’s “better than a pole-dancing class.” Hannah looks pretty much how you’d expect her to look at this point. Kate declares that Beth would never take a pole-dancing class, but Beth says it’s good exercise, and suddenly switches the subject back to belly-dancing and asks who’s going to join her in dancing. Kate will, but Amy, a bit reluctantly, says she’ll sit it out. Hannah encourages her to join them, saying she’ll just “watch the couscous,” but Amy insists that it’s okay. She asks if Hannah is having fun. Hannah lies that it’s “great!” Amy hopes it’s okay that her other friends came along, and I really don’t understand how Amy can not realize what a mistake it was to bring them along when the whole point of this thing was for she and Hannah to mend their friendship. But, anyway, Amy continues that she really wanted Hannah and the others to meet, so they could all hang out together and become BFFs! Hannah’s like “Yeah, great, good.” Amy says that they’ll be going to an Italian bakery for dessert, but Hannah begs off, claiming that she has after-dinner movie plans with Bright. Amy actually realizes what’s really going on here, but just says “okay” and returns to her food. Hannah glances up at the dancing Beth and Kate, and looks uncomfortable again for a moment, until she decides to fall back on what’s basically become her motto: “Have you talked to Ephram lately?” Which, incidentally, would make an awesome series of PSAs: “Do you ever feel like no one understands you? Have sarcasm and jadedness been missing from your life? Do you find it difficult to enjoy piano music? You’re not alone. There is help. [insert slow-motion scenes of Ephram with random people] Have you talked to Ephram lately?” Uh, so anyway, Amy smiles tightly, and shakes her head no, but this is a lie unless Hannah already knows about last week’s mall-based meeting. Hannah is glum.

Reid is studying to some music that underscores the stress he’s quite obviously feeling, since it talks about “tidal waves” and being “cast away.” He flips through a textbook and stares at the blank page of his notebook, until finally getting up, grabbing his coat, and stalking out of the apartment.

Nina is preparing dinner, which is pretty much how she spends 90% of her screentime these days. Jake enters and asks what she’s making; she explains that it’s a “complicated” new macaroni and cheese recipe, which requires her to start with a roux. Jake has no clue what she’s talking about. Nina begins chopping vegetables, while Jake brings up his visit to Ed and how bad he feels for him. Nina urges him not to feel too bad, as Ed’s had problems for years. Jake, however, thinks he could get better if there were a local place for him to get help. Nina asks if he means an Everwood branch of AA, and sardonically chuckles that it’ll happen “right after they cure cancer.” Jake insists that it could happen, but Nina, who knows the place a lot better than he does, notes that Everwood is a “sweep-it-under-the-rug kind of town.” Jake doesn’t think this makes it right, though, since all that stuff is still happening. I suddenly kind of wish that he had dropped by the Abbott household for some reason or other during Rose and Bill’s excellent adventure. He concludes that it would be best to bring it all out into the open, so those who need help could get it. Nina attributes all the secrecy to “small-town mentality,” and uses Linda’s HIV, and the resulting outcry when it was revealed, as an example. She adds that “AIDS is a legitimate illness,” which is so very much the wrong thing to say in this case, as Jake rebuts that addiction is, as well. Nina replies, a little too brightly, that she knows that, and returns to her macaroni. Jake launches right into his plans: his friend, who runs the Carbondale rehab center, will help him set up a program in Everwood. He explains that it will only draw upon the best elements of the NA and AA programs, offering peer support for recovering addicts. Nina haltingly asks if he really wants to start a support group in Everwood. Jake nods in confirmation, and Nina asks if he would be participating in or running it. Jake replies that he’d be doing both, actually, since it wouldn’t be right for him to ask others to share without being willing to share himself. Nina allows that it’s a “big” and “good” idea, but wonders if it would be good for Jake. Jake insists that he’ll be fine; “don’t forget, I’m from Los Angeles. We love airing our dirty laundry out in public. That’s why there’s so much smog.” Nina laughs a little, but still looks concerned. Jake continues that Everwood needs some “shaking up,” and that at worst, no one will go to the meetings. Nina thinks that the actual worst case scenario would be lots of people showing up and discovering that Jake is a recovering addict, leading to the demise of his practice. Jake deems this a risk worth taking.

Harold strolls through the office and tells Louise to call some patient about an appointment; upon reaching Louise’s desk, he notices that she’s sitting on a large exercise ball. Louise explains that it’s part of her effort to “strengthen her core” and improve her posture. Louise must lead a very interesting life that we never get to see. Bill suddenly enters the building, all, “Hey, Harold!” Harold greets him as “Mr. Schmicker,” and now sounds as though he’s addressing a suspected Nazi. He remarks that he wasn’t aware Bill was one of Andy’s patients, and Bill replies that he only sees him for routine matters, as his oncologist is in Denver. He adds, confidingly, that he hates long drives. Bill is cracking me up, people. He’s so chipper and all in love with Harold after having met him for five awkward minutes. It must be all the pot. Harold chuckles. Bill suddenly looks apologetic, and says that Rose told him, “at lunch,” that Harold was upset, and apologizes for any discomfort he might have caused. Harold dismisses this, but then wonders when Bill and Rose had lunch together. The previous day, apparently, the mention of which reminds Bill to offer a hearty congratulations on the adoption. He even pats Harold on the arm and calls the whole thing “amazing.” Harold agrees that it is, then glances away, annoyed. Bill continues that, though he really doesn’t know anything about the subject, he thinks “Rose’s concerns are pretty natural.” Any concern on Rose’s part is news to Harold, who raises his eyebrows a bit, but nods when Bill assures him that “they’ll pass” and that Harold shouldn’t worry. Harold replies with a “No, no, no no. I’m sure you’re right!” Hee. He thanks Bill for being a good friend to Rose. Bill aims a finger-gun at him and says, “Two-way street!” This guy is slaying me and I have no idea why. He’s just oddly hilarious. (Maybe now I know why: a quick visit to IMDB informs me that the actor is a descendant of Aaron Burr, who was the subject of my North American History prof’s funniest lecture ever. And, it also says that Jon Lindstrom used to be married to Eileen Davidson, who was brilliantly nuts on Days of Our Lives back when I watched in the mid-'90s. So maybe there's something there.) Harold smirks. Bill concludes that it was good to see him and Louise, and leaves. Louise gushes over what a “sweet, sweet man” he is. Harold scoffs at this, and declares that “if he were any more transparent, he’d be a drinking glass!” Louise is confused, and Harold asks if she’s blind. “Bill Schmicker is hot for my wife!” Louise is very surprised.

Bright stomps into the Abbott kitchen. Amy, who’s putting away groceries, greets him with a rather haughty-sounding “Hello,” which Bright mimics perfectly just before calling her a “traitor.” He’s distracted from any further condemnation by a bag of chips, which Amy grabs from him. She breezily asserts that she has no idea what he’s talking about, nor does she care. Bright replies that “it was bad enough when you were just self-righteous, but you’ve gone to a whole new level. You are becoming, like, this Phi Beta fembot, with your obnoxious friends, your new cause, like, every other week. [in an excellent falsetto] ‘Save the tuna! Kill the men!’” Amy smiles, but wonders if there’s a point to any of this. Bright’s point is that it’s now affecting Hannah. Amy finds it “unbelievable” that Hannah told him about the dinner. Bright replies that “of course” she told him, because she was upset and had been looking forward to spending time with Amy. “And you ambush her with Mary-Kate and Ashley!” Amy corrects him on the names, and says she just wanted them all to meet so they could hang out together in the future, which didn’t work out. Amy asides that it’s a shame, since Kate and Beth “are very cool girls.” Bright interjects that Hannah is cooler. Amy says they’re “different,” and that Hannah should have told Amy that she was miserable instead of complaining to Bright about it. Bright thinks that Hannah just didn’t want to sound rude, but Amy asserts that it’s not that, but that Hannah didn’t want to “ruffle any feathers,” and that she does exactly the same thing when it comes to Bright and keggers. Well, that only took eleven episodes to come out. Bright, surprised, asks what Amy’s talking about. Amy says that Hannah hates the parties, but keeps going to them and complaining afterwards to Amy. Bright, looking a bit hurt, remarks that he thought Hannah liked them. Amy wonders why she would, since “watching you get drunk and prance around like an idiot is annoying.” I actually have to agree with Amy on this one, because that rap scene in “Put On a Happy Face” is cringeworthy. Amy concludes that her actual point is that Hannah needs to learn to speak her mind, because she "spends half her life pretending like things are okay when they’re obviously not,” though, Amy snots, maybe Bright prefers it that way. Bright tells her to “can it,” since if he’d known Hannah hated parties he wouldn’t have kept taking her. Amy replies that he knows now. Bright seems to consider this small consolation for learning that his girlfriend's been lying to him for most of the season.

Andy marches down the sidewalk and catches up to Jake, who’s just pulled up to his office. He demands a word with Jake, who asks if he can at least get out of his car first. Andy allows this, and then announces that he’s just returned from a visit to Ed, who thanked him for leaving the police out. Looks like Jake forgot to make “don’t tell anyone else about the shadiness” one of his conditions with Ed. Jake says he was going to tell Andy later, but Andy thinks it’s too late for that, and reminds Jake that they’re supposed to be working together. Jake lamely replies that they are, since Andy already knew about Jake’s feelings; Andy, however, reminds Jake that they had already agreed to go to the police after Ed’s surgery. Jake calls his decision a “judgment call,” and over-identifies with Ed again, insisting that putting him in jail would be a waste of time and taxpayers’ money. Jake urges Andy to trust him, since Ed wants so much to get sober and made a promise to Jake. Andy, like Nina, is afflicted with Saying the Wrong Thing Syndrome: “Come on, Jake, you know as well as I do that a promise from somebody in the throes of addiction is meaningless!” Jake fiercely asks “excuse me?” Andy assures Jake that he’s not referring to him, but suggests that that’s part of the problem, as Ed’s case has nothing to do with Jake’s life. Jake says he knows this, prompting Andy to wonder why he’s making a crusade of it. He adds that Jake’s only hurting Ed more by trying to protect him. Jake thinks Ed “deserves a chance” because he has a family. Andy finally tries playing on Jake’s desire to belong, insisting that he can’t go off on his own when they’re supposed to be working together. Jake claims that he can when Andy is wrong, and heads into his office. Andy stands alone as – it’s snowing! Hey! Neat.

The Abbott Family Dinner: Putting the ‘Fun’ in ‘Dysfunction’! Rose carries in a basket of rolls, which she hands to Hannah. Rose then sits with the others at the table, and, noticing Harold picking at his food, asks why he isn’t eating, as she made one of his favorites: honey-mustard chicken. Harold’s only answer is this: “So what’s Bill’s favorite dish? Chicken pot pie?” Heeee. Bright asks who Bill is. Harold calls him Rose’s “boyfriend.” Amy gives both Harold and Rose equally weirded-out looks. Rose sighs a “for heaven’s sake...” while Harold asks if Rose is aware that Bill is “desperately in love with” her. Hannah appears to be thinking, “These people are weird, but this is already so much more entertaining than any dinner I ever had with my actual family.” Bright looks at Rose mischievously and reiterates that she has a boyfriend. Harold: “Bill. Bill Schmicker. Sounds like something you’d lance.” He continues that they’ll be running off together soon, “probably to Jamaica.” Hannah and Bright now appear to be thinking that Harold’s marbles fell out at some point during his ride home from work. Harold concludes that it’s fine, since he can just raise their adopted child on his own. Amy expresses her utter confusion. Rose tensely replies that Bill is not in love with her, but that Harold just doesn’t understand the concept of a support group. Harold thinks that he understands that “it’s all about the support...group,” and asks Rose to further “enlighten” him. Now Hannah and Bright just look uncomfortable. Rose decides she’d rather not, and stands, announcing that she’s lost her appetite. That just leaves the other four to continue the wacky, tension-filled antics! Amy gives Harold a pointed “Dad.” Harold urges them to eat: “The chicken’s divine.” Never has an adjective sounded so much like a threat of bodily harm. So they all dig in, and after a few moments, Harold asks what the “terminally ineffectual youth have planned for this evening.” Amy replies that she and Beth are planning to go see a classic Japanese film. Bright thinks that sounds like fun, which he amends to “awful,” prompting Amy’s disdain. Hannah says that she and Bright are going to a party at ‘Dirk’s’ place. Bright, however, adds that they don’t have to go if she doesn’t want to. Amy glances at him, while Hannah asks why she wouldn’t want to go. Bright, clueless, says that he thought she might not be interested. Amy clears her throat and subtly waves her fork in Bright’s direction, trying to get him to shut up, but her cover is blown when Hannah actually looks at her. Hannah suspiciously asks what’s going on. Doofy Bright explains that Amy was “nice enough” to inform him of Hannah’s party-hatred. Amy rolls her eyes up into her head, Hannah freaks, and good old oblivious Bright is all “no big deal.” Hannah can’t believe Amy told him. Amy asks if it isn’t true. Hannah asserts that her relationship with Bright is none of Amy’s business, though Amy reminds her that she’s been telling Amy all about it for a year, which kind of makes her a part of it. Hannah sarcastically apologizes for putting such a burden on her. Amy insists that it’s not a burden, but suggests that Hannah talk about things that involve Amy, too, such as the awful time she had with Amy’s friends. Hannah gets huffy again, and gapes at Bright. Amy continues that he didn’t have to tell her anything, since she already knew. Hannah’s surprised that she did, and Amy goes on that Hannah just needs to say what she’s thinking so they can avoid “all this drama.” Bright is nodding in agreement, as Hannah turns to him and asks if he feels the same way. Catching her expression, he shakes his head “nooo,” but then grants that he kind of does. This is all too much for Hannah, who glares again at Amy and asks if she really wants to know what she’s feeling: “Okay. I hate couscous. Your friends are ridiculous, and the way you act around them is totally false. And that Beth girl is a total bitch!” Gasp! Harold, who’s been staying out of this, looks up from his food, both startled and amused, which prompts Hannah to quickly apologize. Amy marvels that Hannah’s “actually expressing a real feeling and it was negative. We should throw a party!” Bright: “She doesn’t like parties.” *snerk* Hannah hisses his name. Bright starts stuttering out an apology while Hannah angrily rises from the table, thanks them for dinner, and stomps off to parts elsewhere. Bright continues to apologize and also stands, throwing his napkin on the table and telling Amy “nice move,” before following his girlfriend. Amy blames Bright for starting it. Now it’s down to just Harold and Amy. Harold apparently heard nothing other than the word “bitch,” as he mournfully repeats his “something you’d lance” line, and wonders why Rose wasn’t amused. “Perhaps it was my delivery.” Oh, Harold, know this: it is never your delivery. Amy pleads with him to “let it go.” You know, I’m beginning to think the tragedy isn’t just that Everwood was cancelled, but that no one at least tried to spin-off The Abbotts + Hannah Dinner Hour, because that? Would truly have been a thing of great and terrible beauty.

The next day. Nina barges into the Brown home, where Andy is currently eating breakfast. He offers her pancakes, but she’s more interested in discussing Jake’s apparent insanity. Andy assures her that Jake is not “crazy,” but “stupid.” Nina asks if he knows already, then, and when Andy confirms that he and Jake just fought over the matter, it’s clear that Nina and Andy are referring to two completely different things. Fortunately, it doesn’t go on for too long; after Nina expresses her amazement that this must mean Jake’s really serious about his plan, Andy wonders what she’s talking about, which Nina then wonders about Andy. Nina goes first, explaining Jake’s plan to start a local support group. She frets about all the gossip this will generate, and reminds Andy of all the talk about him in his first days in town. Andy sighs “Ah, memories.” Heh. Nina suggests that Andy tell Jake about how difficult that was, as Jake apparently sees Andy as some sort of role model and trusts him. Andy scoffs that Jake “has a funny way of showing it,” but refuses to tell Nina any more about that little matter. He does say, however, that it’s not his place to get involved in the dispute and that, what’s more, he actually thinks Jake’s idea is a good one; “the town will be up in arms for twenty minutes, and then they’ll move on.” Nina worries about what will happen if they don’t, particularly if the stress hurts Jake’s recovery process. Andy is sure he’ll be fine, and adds that their financial situation is secure, given the success of Sam’s. Nina, though, is not worried about money. Her actual concern is the very real possibility of the whole town knowing her problems: “Everything that happened with Carl was embarrassing enough, and now it’ll be ‘Nina: that poor lady who married a gay guy and now she’s shacked up with a druggie!’” Nina realizes how self-absorbed she sounds, and mutters that she’s a “horrible person.” Andy doesn’t respond to this, but only remarks that people will probably talk, but Nina doesn’t have to listen, unless she actually agrees with them, deep down. Nina absorbs this, then turns her attention to pancakes and syrup.

Jake walks down the hall to Ed’s room. He looks in and sees police standing around Ed’s bed, writing up a report. Betrayal!

The cancer support group has just concluded a meeting at the house of Wacky Bill. He’s shaking hands with everyone and tries to push a bundt cake onto one woman, who refuses the offer. Rose thanks him for hosting, though he notes that he didn’t go to much trouble, and that Rose has already hosted twice. Rose prepares to leave, but Bill expresses his hope that Rose will stay a little while longer and smoke with him. He claims that it “helped so much the other night,” but Rose, fortunately, is not a moron, and replies that she thinks he has the hang of it. Bill grows increasingly oily [my love burned bright and flamed out fast, it seems], as he quietly, and intensely, tells Rose that her support has meant so much, and he doesn’t know where he’d be without her, and blah blah blah inappropriatecakes. Rose becomes a little bit moronic, for a second, as she assures Bill he’d be “just fine,” but pulls him in for a hug. Bill interprets this in very much the wrong way; he thanks her, and they pull apart, but he then dives in for a kiss, full on the lips. Rose shoves him away and demands to know what he’s doing. He groans, and she continues that she’s happily married. Bill “just thought” something-or-other, though Rose doesn’t give him a chance to explain what, as she admonishes him and pronounces his full name in very Haroldesque tones. She slams the door shut, leaving Bill to get high by his lonesome.

Amy’s in her bedroom, at her computer. Hannah hesitantly knocks on the open door, and Amy invites her in, adding that “Beth isn’t hiding in the closet.” That was...kind of funny, okay. Hannah, sounding quite remorseful indeed, apologizes for everything she said at dinner. Amy says this is unnecessary, but Hannah continues to be very sorry for losing her temper. Amy is actually glad that Hannah did, declaring that she and Hannah aren’t real best friends if they can’t be honest with each other. Hannah, though, remarks that she hates fighting with Amy and that it seems like it’s all they’ve been doing lately. Amy urges her on with a “try me.” Hannah needs some clarification. Amy wants to demonstrate how honest they can be without fighting, and asks for Hannah’s real opinion of Beth. Hannah thinks for a moment, and begins by conceding that she’s not a “[barely-audible whisper] bitch,” but that she does tend to monopolize the conversation and brag. Amy, for her part, grants that Beth comes across that way at first, but is much better once you get to know her; she adds that it’s okay if Hannah doesn’t like her, though. Everything’s good again! Friendships last forever! Amy asks if Hannah has anything else to say. Uh-oh. Hannah broaches the subject a bit tentatively, referring to it as something she and Amy “definitely disagree on,” but finally, after several seconds of silence, comes out with it: “I don’t think it’s very nice, what you’re doing to Ephram.” Well, this certainly won't make things worse. Amy asks what it is that Hannah thinks she’s doing to him. Hannah, as it happens, finally has a few new things to say on the subject. She thinks that Amy’s “stringing him along,” given that she told Ephram to wait for her, but doesn’t appear to have any plans of getting back together with him, “and every time I’m over there, I just feel so bad...” Turns out straight honesty isn’t really what Amy wanted after all, as she turns back to the computer and announces that there are some things they don’t need to discuss. Hannah reiterates Amy’s call for honesty, but Amy argues that Hannah is not being honest, but just has an agenda to reunite Ephram and Amy. Hannah vehemently denies this, asserting that what she wants is for Amy to be fair to him: “If you’re not going to get back together, then tell him! Let him move on with his life.” Amy rebuts that she’s not stopping him from doing so, though Hannah kind of thinks she is. Amy, forcefully but politely, insists that she doesn’t want to have this fight, and tells Hannah to drop it. Hannah, however, is rather enjoying her newfound backbone, and laughs bitterly that Amy can interfere in Hannah and Bright’s relationship, but Hannah can’t say anything about Amy and Ephram. Amy argues that the difference there is that she and Ephram aren’t together. Hannah, though, disputes this, claiming instead that “the difference is you want to run our friendship the same way you run your relationship with Ephram: all on your terms. And honestly? I’m just not into it anymore.” If you’ll just permit me a moment of totally, unrepentantly biased recappage: I’m so proud! Okay, done. Hannah storms out. Amy rests her chin in her hand and ponders what in heaven’s name just happened there.

This is a very fast-moving day, as it’s suddenly nighttime, and Harold is de-icing the walkway. Rose comes out to bring him a mug of an unidentified hot beverage, for which Harold thanks her. Rose is quiet for a moment, then informs him that he was right. Harold is not at all surprised, though he also has to ask to what she’s referring. She sighs about the dishonorable intentions of Bill Schmicker, confessing that he “tried” [though I think he did a little more than that] to kiss her. Harold is outraged, and asks where the car keys are; “cancer or no, I am going over there to give that lothario a what-for!” I cannot even begin to imagine how much fun it must have been to write Harold’s dialogue. Rose hastily assures him that there’s no need to defend her, since she already took care of the matter. She berates herself for being “stupid,” even though she was trying to be a good friend. Harold insists that she’s not stupid, but a “beautiful, magnificent, vibrant woman” whom any man would fall for, “though I suspected Bill Schmicker right from the get-go.” Rose thanks him, and confesses that, after so many years together, she rather enjoyed seeing him jealous, much as he tried to deny it. Harold admits that he was jealous, but not because he actually thought she and Bill would have an affair; “I am confident that you will always be mine, drug habit and all.” Hee. He continues that what bothered him was the idea that Rose would rather share her feelings with a relative stranger than with Harold. Rose replies that that’s the point of the group, but Harold explains that he’s not referring to that, but to the fact that she expressed her fears about the adoption to Bill and not to Harold. Rose guesses that she never told him because of his own concerns about it; she worried that if she seemed hesitant, Harold would back out. Harold reminds her that their marriage doesn’t work that way; sometimes Rose is the “beacon of strength,” other times Harold is the “buoy that keeps [them] afloat,” but they’re always in it together. He asks, gently, why she’s worried. Rose confesses that she’s afraid her cancer will hurt their chances. Oh, Rose, don’t worry; Harold’s already anticipated that little issue! She asks if it hasn’t crossed Harold’s mind. Harold simply says that “it has,” wisely leaving out any mention of the LIE. Rose wonders if he really thinks the adoption agency will give a child to someone who’s less than a year out of treatment. Harold actually prefaces his response with “honestly,” and declares that “any child would be blessed to have” Rose for a mother, and that he thinks the agency will recognize that and everything will be just fine. Rose is happy, and rests her head against his shoulder. Which is just as well, as that way she can’t see the intense apprehension that’s just crossed Harold’s face.

College classroom, where Reid is taking a test. After checking to make sure the professor isn’t watching, he pulls a tiny index card from his sleeve and starts to copy down answers. Welcome to the Liar’s Club, Reid! You're not the first new member this season, and you certainly won’t be the last.

Andy’s in the office, looking through some files, when Jake comes in and states that Andy called the cops. Andy confirms that he did, and Jake asks why, declaring that he was going to save Ed, but now Andy’s ruined his whole life. Andy, however, informs him that Ed will only be spending 72 hours in jail, and that he could still get help by, say, joining Jake’s support group. Jake wonders, for a moment, how Andy knows about it, but then remembers Nina’s tendency to run to Andy about everything. Andy interjects a “Listen,” but Jake announces that he’s not changing his mind and nothing Andy says will change that. Much to Jake’s surprise, Andy expresses his strong support of the idea. This confuses Jake greatly: “What is this? Some kind of Andy Brown neurosurgeon mind game?” Heh. Andy: “Yes. I’m going to be bring you down by agreeing with you. It’s evil but effective.” Hee! But he then says that he really does support the idea, and told Nina so. Jake is pleased to hear it, and Andy reminds him that the doctors have to “look out for each other.” Happy to have an ally, Jake asks for Andy’s opinion on him asking to use town hall for the meetings. Andy deems it a “waste of time.” Jake figured as much, but notes that his office isn’t big enough; Andy replies that his is, and smiles. After a few beats, Jake observes that “Everwood isn’t going to like this.” Andy agrees, but suggests that it was about time someone shook things up. They laugh, and Jake turns to leave, but Andy stops him to ask if he’ll still be supplying the pastries for the doctor get-together. Jake promises that he will, and takes a few more steps before turning again and thanking Andy. He finally leaves, and it’s nice that at least one friendship survived the episode.

Next time: Ephram comes to a decision about his future with the piano; Nina comes to a decision about her future with Jake; and Bright does a whole lot of damage to his future with Hannah.

An Ounce of Prevention

Hey, it’s two people and a place we didn’t see last week: Bright and Hannah in the apartment, playing cards and listening to Belle and Sebastian's "For the Price of a Cup of Tea." Wherever they were during the last episode, they must have spent the entire time together, as Bright’s habit of drumming his fingers against his cards is driving Hannah up the wall. He says he’s thinking; she snappishly asks if he has to “think with [his] fingers.” After a good deal of thinking, Bright finally selects a card to discard, which Hannah immediately picks up. He calls her a “jacks whore.” I missed him so. She protests that it’s only the third one she’s taken. “Learn the game, buddy.” Ephram comes down from his crawl space, and Hannah asks if the music was too loud. Ephram says that no, actually, he’s up and late for something. Bright warns Hannah not to put down any sevens. “I am all over the sevens, chica.” Hannah looks bored, though I’d rather watch five hours of this than an episode that focused exclusively on Jake and Nina discussing his recovery. Ephram asks if anyone’s seen his sheet music, as he has two new students. Reid suddenly appears. Bright suggests that Ephram check the coffee table, and adds that, if said sheet music is there, Bright may have left a sandwich on top of it. Reid, sounding panicked, asks if anyone has hair gel. In an indication of the newfound harmony in their relationship, Ephram says he has some. Reid is very thankful and literally runs to the crawl space. Ephram discovers his sheet music precisely where Bright suggested it might be, and it is, indeed, directly underneath a sandwich, because apparently when they sprang for that new set of bowls, they couldn’t afford plates or napkins. Meanwhile, Bright reminds Hannah that he told her not to play the seven, which Hannah sing-songs is exactly why she played it. Because the apartment isn’t crowded enough yet, Amy enters, calling out to Reid that she’s been honking the car horn for the last ten minutes. Ephram retrieves his sheet music – not even touching the sandwich itself in the process, heh – which is now covered in what appears to be grape jelly. Reid, from the crawl space, informs Amy that he’s “having some hair issues,” which he demonstrates by running his hands through and pulling at his hair in a way that looks kind of painful. Amy: “It’s a good thing we didn’t date for real, because I cannot be with a man who spends more time on his hair than I do.” She notices Hannah, and asks what she’s doing there on a school day. Hannah explains that it’s a teacher’s day, and adds that Bright’s taken the day off from school to hang out with her. She seems less than thrilled about this. Bright, however, says that’s the “great thing about college: no one to mark your absence, no readmit slip.” Heh, he would've received a lot of calls from professors if he'd attended my old, tiny university. Amy: “There is no way you’re gonna graduate in less than seven years.” Hannah asks Amy when her last class ends, and suggests that they all do something together. Amy looks tense. Hannah goes on to ask Ephram (of course) what his plans are, and says that maybe they could all make pizza again. Ephram can’t, as he has to pick up Kyle, while Amy has several sections and lectures and lunch, oh my! She also mentions that Bill O’Reilly is speaking at A&M, and invites anyone interested to a demonstration. Hannah actually finds it necessary to ask “what kind of demonstration,” though maybe she’s just wondering on what other points she and Amy might disagree. Amy says it’s a protest, because he’s “a total warmonger.” Hannah and Bright decline the invitation. Reid is now playing with his hair while using the toaster as a mirror, and Amy wonders if he’d rather have good hair or save lives. Apparently the former, since he goes on to complain about the front part of his hair while continuing to hold the toaster before him. While all this is happening, Ephram takes two Pop-Tarts from said toaster. Reid finally sets down his impromptu mirror and leaves with Amy. Ephram follows soon after and, on his way out, tells Bright that they’re out of milk and that he might want to pick some up [time for a trip to the Abbott house, I guess!]. Bright and Hannah are alone again. Hannah comments on how busy everyone else seems to be. Bright, with his mouth full of food of some sort, thinks that they’re busy, too. Hannah refutes this, calling what they’re doing “the art of time wasting.” Bright: “At least you admit that it’s an art.” It’s not really the time for quips, judging from Hannah’s look of exasperation. Bright asks what’s wrong. Hannah, being Hannah, replies that it’s “nothing,” and adds that it’s his turn. She stares at him for a moment as he continues chewing enthusiastically, and then looks away despairingly. It’s okay; Bright’s eating habits have that effect on many.

A preppy-looking teenage girl is sitting in Andy’s office, showing him a very well-organized binder which includes her complete medical history, a report from a genetic counselor, and a consent form. She also mentions that she just turned 18, which is why she can have as much say in all this as she has here. Andy is very impressed, though adds, “I don’t know many high school seniors who consider a blood test much of a birthday present.” His patient replies that she just wants “peace of mind.” Andy gives her a name, addressing her as 'Ellie,' and tells her that screening for the breast cancer gene is a big deal for anyone, let alone a teenager. Ellie replies that she knows this, but has already talked to lots of people and researched all the risks and benefits, and is “confident” about her decision. Andy then asks why she wants to have the screening. Ellie has a few decent reasons: her mother died from breast cancer when Ellie was ten; her older sister was diagnosed with it at the age of 28, and had to go through chemo and a double mastectomy; and there’s even a history of it on her father’s side. Andy decides that he “understand[s] the ‘why’ now.” He asks if she’s discussed it with her father. Ellie cryptically replies that her father “hasn’t been the same” since her mother’s death, and that her sister Ruthie was essentially the one who raised her. “She is so amazing. Like, the definition of a survivor.” Ellie hopes that, if she does develop cancer, she copes with as much “grace and strength” as her sister did. Andy asks if she knows about it, which Ellie confirms that she does; she also says that ‘Mitchell’ was supposed to come to the appointment with her, but practice for some sport interfered. Off Andy’s question, she clarifies that Mitchell is her “very supportive” boyfriend, and has been since sophomore year, and that they even both plan to attend UNC the following year. Ellie notes that the scholarship application process was actually what “cemented things” for her. “It’s all about organization and planning, and it made me realize how unprepared my mother and sister were for cancer.” Andy considers this, as Ellie concludes that she doesn’t want the same thing to happen to her. “If I have the gene, I want to know now, so I can be ready. Mitchell says the best defense is a good offense.” Andy smiles, while Ellie points in the direction of the exam room and asks if she’s supposed to go there. Andy confirms this. While he gets the nurse, Ellie sits on the exam table and rolls up her sleeves, still completely prepared for anything and everything.

Ephram is trudging through snow to get to Kyle’s school. SNOW! So much of it! So pretty! Sorry, I currently live in a snow-free climate. Gosh, this show made some gorgeous use of filming almost on location. Anyway, Ephram enters the building and spots Kyle talking to a girl who’s flirtatiously playing with her hair. Ephram smiles a little, then looks a bit concerned as he notices Kyle’s discomfort at being touched by Twirly-Hair Girl. Kyle sees Ephram and makes a quick getaway. As they begin their walk to Ephram’s car, Kyle orders him not to look, but Ephram ignores this and asks if the girl just invited Kyle to the upcoming school dance. Kyle bars him from talking, too, but this doesn’t stop Ephram from observing that “the hair-pulling thing was a little OCD, but she’s pretty cute.” He asks who she is, and Kyle says she’s “Kelly Morgan: Drama Club, girls’ lacrosse, and locker stalker.” Ephram thinks it’s “nice” that she was inviting Kyle, but Kyle says he won’t be saying yes, as “dances are lame.” Ephram doesn’t think this is the case if you’re going with someone like Kelly, but Kyle insists that he’s not interested in her and doesn’t want to go, as “it’s a total waste of time.” Ephram goes for either the empathy or reverse psychology angle – hard to say which – as he remarks that “I sometimes think dances were created just to make people like you and me miserable, plus they’ll probably have some lame DJ...” Kyle concludes that “I’ll end up standing around talking to people I hate anyway.” He declares that he can’t wait to finish high school so he never has to deal with another prom. Ephram: “Ah, just so you know, New Year’s Eve is pretty much prom for adults. It never really goes away.” Heh. Kyle thinks this is just wonderful, and Ephram continues that a person should never have to go to any of these events that require a date, unless there’s someone one is “dying to ask.” Kyle, for his part, is “dying for [Ephram] to drop it.” Ephram is puzzled by Kyle’s genuine anger regarding this subject, and merely gets in the car.

Exterior shot of what appears to be a burger place called ‘Ab’s.’ Inside, Bright and Hannah are playing cards, again. They might consider looking into board games. Bright is yawning. Hannah watches him and asks, somewhat tensely, if he’s bored. He denies this, claiming that he didn’t get much sleep as “Reid was up ‘til 3 in the morning doing crunches.” Aerobic!Reid is so much more amusing than MedStudent!Reid. Hannah suddenly announces that the previous week marked their seven-month anniversary. Bright worries that this means he was supposed to get her something. Hannah says he wasn't, and that she was thinking more about the number. “Seven. As in, the seven-year itch?” Bright smirks knowingly at first, but they soon both shake their heads and he admits he has no idea what she means. “Sounds like a long time to be scratching" [foreshadowing!]. Hannah says that she thinks they’re in a rut. “Like we’ve reached this plateau, we’ve been through all of the bumps and hard stuff in our relationship. And now the only thing left to do is to break up or get married.” Bright, fully awake now, gives her an “Oh, dude!” Hee. Hannah hastens to assure him that she’s not saying one of those things will happen that day, but that she’s worried, and notes that they’re there “doing the same thing [they] always do.” Bright insists, kind of sadly, that they “like playing cards.” Hannah concedes this, but wonders when was the last time they “did something new and exciting.” Bright protests that they do things all the time, like go to the movies, watch TV, and play cards. Hannah makes a face that indicates Bright's just proven her point, while he continues that he doesn’t know she wants him to do. “It’s not like I can afford to buy a jet and fly us to Paris.” Hannah wonders what would be new, but affordable. Bright suggests deer-hunting. Whoo! Hannah looks at him like he’s crazy, which he basically is, and says she’ll try to come up with something better than that. Bright, who has just taken a big bite of hamburger, sarcastically says (in a truly repulsive way, because I never, ever want to see that much partially-chewed hamburger again, and not just because I’m a vegetarian), “Good luck.” They seal their agreement with a frankly adorable fist-bump, in which Hannah apparently participates a little too enthusiastically, as Bright seems to be in pain afterwards.

Reid’s playing Mad Scientist in the apartment kitchen. Ephram enters, and, upon noticing Reid’s experimentation, remarks that he’ll pass on dinner. Reid explains that he’s reviewing basic lab procedure, and shows us, in a close-up, onion DNA. Everwood: entertainment and education! Ephram doesn’t care, however, and says as much. Reid remembers that someone left Ephram a message; the someone, unsurprisingly, is Kyle, saying that he wants to move his next lesson up by a half-hour. Ephram muses on what a “funny kid” he is. “He’s scared of his own shadow, but you get the feeling that if you said the wrong thing, he’d gut you like a fish.” Reid asks Ephram if he thinks he’ll get into Juilliard; Ephram doesn’t know, but does mention that all Kyle does is practice. Reid asks if that isn’t what Ephram was like, but Ephram says it was only because he had no other option. “I was a dork by necessity.” Reid thinks this is “true of all dorks,” but Ephram has his doubts now, after having witnessed Kyle’s dismissal of Kelly. Reid finds this a little strange, and asks if she was “cute.” Ephram confirms that she was, and that he himself would have “killed to have a girl like that” into him when he was Kyle’s age. Ephram concludes that Kyle must just not be interested in girls yet. Oh, Ephram. Reid finds this strange, too, given Kyle’s age and the accompanying raging hormones. But Ephram insists it’s true, because Kyle’s never talked about girls in the whole time they’ve known each other. Realization dawns upon Reid, who suggests that Kyle might not have crushes on girls. Ephram asks, skeptically, if Reid really thinks Kyle’s gay. Reid thinks it’s possible. Ephram vehemently denies this, as Kyle’s “too young to be gay.” Reid brings up the possibility of sexuality being encoded in one’s DNA, as well as the fact that “kids are figuring themselves out a lot younger these days.” Ephram is increasingly defensive, and retorts that Kyle’s never even kissed a girl, and, given that, how does he know he wouldn’t like it? Reid: “Why? Did you have to kiss a guy to figure out you were straight?” Ephram is silent, and Reid quickly adds that it was “just a thought” and he could be wrong. Ephram says emphatically that he is. As he gets up from the counter to head to his crawl space, he turns and declares that he’s not homophobic. “When you were gay? No big deal.” Hee! Reid wonders when he was gay. Ephram doesn’t tell him, but only continues that Kyle is “young, he’s socially inept, and–and he just doesn’t know how to handle himself in the dating scene yet.” Ephram decides that he needs to help Kyle through all this, since he doesn’t have anyone else, and that “pretty soon people like [Reid] are going to be spreading rumors saying that he’s gay just because he’s shy.” Reid seems mildly frightened by this point, but only replies that “you obviously know him a lot better than I do.” Ephram retorts that he does, and stomps off to his room. Reid shakes his head a bit.

Andy’s office. Ellie, accompanied this time by her sister, has just learned that she does, indeed, have the gene. Though Andy apologizes for having to deliver bad news, Ellie says it’s okay, and asks for a copy of the report, because “it’s important to keep good records.” Ruth looks at Andy a little pleadingly. Andy explains that carrying the gene doesn’t necessarily mean she will develop breast cancer, but that her chances of developing it are greater. Ellie, of course, has done all the research, and says that she has a 40-85% chance of becoming ill before age 40, and is also at greater risk for developing ovarian cancer. Ruth mutters that she shouldn’t have let Ellie take the test, and that she doesn’t want her to go through the same thing she did. Ellie doesn’t want that, either, which is why she was tested in the first place, since this way she can take preventative measures. Andy offers a few suggestions, such as diet and exercise, as well as a monthly self-examination. Ellie asks about tamoxifen, inspiring Ruth to give Andy another desperate look. Andy explains that it would never be prescribed to someone Ellie’s age. Ruth seems to appreciate this answer, and looks at Ellie again, who wonders if “that’s it? Seems like a lot of waiting around for something bad to happen.” Though, you’d think she might have realized this before having the test done. Ellie asks if Andy’s sure there are no other options, and, given all the research she had done prior to this, I sort of wonder if she was waiting for him to make the suggestion that he does. It’s a doozy: a preventative mastectomy, which will lower her chances of developing cancer to about ten percent. Ruth interjects a sharp, “I’m sorry?”, but Andy continues that by removing the breasts and underlying tissue, the cancer will have no place to grow. He further adds that it’s “radical,” but Ellie likes the sound of “ten percent,” and wonders how soon she can have the surgery. Ruth tries to slow her down, but Ellie insists that she wants something “aggressive” and doesn’t need breasts, “especially if they’re going to kill me!” Andy reminds her that death isn’t a sure thing, and Ruth agrees with this, but chastises Andy for getting them to the point of discussing radical surgery. She tells Ellie that she “won’t let [her] do that,” before thanking Andy and standing, expecting Ellie to follow. Ellie, however, remains seated, and forcefully says that she’s the patient and it’s her body, and she has the right to hear about this option. Ruth: “Well, I don’t have to hear about it.” She leaves. Andy seems to be lost in thought, but is roused from his reverie when Ellie asks how soon she can meet with an oncologist.

Andy and Harold are at Sam’s, going through patient files. Harold waxes rhapsodic about Blue Cross. Andy suddenly remembers to mention that he received a call from one Madeleine Barry, saying that Andy had been listed as a reference for the adoption process. Harold is ecstatic that she’s already contacted Andy. Andy is amused by Harold, observing that he’s “just bursting with baby glee.” Harold picks up Andy’s file on Ellie and asks if she’s a new patient. Andy explains that she came in for blood tests, and Harold notes the reference to the breast cancer gene, calling it a “shame” and asking how Ellie’s handling it. Andy casually replies that she’s considering a mastectomy. Harold finds this “rather extreme. Most girls her age are thinking about movie star break-ups and senior prom, not elective surgery.” Andy says that she’s different from most girls, given her high levels of maturity and intelligence. Except that when he says it, it doesn’t sound horribly sexist like it did when I just paraphrased it. Sorry about that. Harold thinks that Andy should advise her against the surgery, particularly given that she’s not sick. Andy argues that the surgery could prevent her from the strong likelihood of becoming sick. Harold, however, proposes another possibility: “she could remain perfectly healthy and be permanently scarred in the process.” Although, were that the case, she would probably attribute her health to the surgery, so would that even be an issue, really? I get what he means here, but it’s not as though she’d ever know what would have happened otherwise. Andy insists that all he did was present Ellie with all the options, and that it’s not his place to tell her what or what not to do. Harold wonders when he adopted this policy. “One minute you’re traipsing across town in the snow, convincing an 80-year-old man to have a brain operation. Now you’ve got an 18-year-old girl in front of you, who is making a rash decision based on fear. You won’t advise her against it? Makes no sense.” Especially not after the lesson Andy received from Cute Rabbi in the last episode! Andy merely orders Harold to move on to the next patient.

Ephram’s very heterosexual student is practicing on the piano in the Brown living room. Ephram is staring at the back of Kyle’s head, which Kyle can obviously sense, as he turns around and asks why Ephram is doing so. Ephram announces that he gave Kyle some bad advice, and declares that he should go to the dance, after all. Kyle asks why. Ephram, playing wise mentor figure again, says that it will be better than he thinks it will, and that if he doesn’t go he’ll build it up into something awful. Kyle assures him that he’s not afraid of dancing, but simply rejects it. Ephram: “Okay, well, are you sure you’re rejecting it, or you’re not afraid of it just rejecting you?” Uh. Kyle stares for a moment, and Ephram admits it was a “bad analogy.” He simplifies things, saying that he had fun at the few he went to in high school, and that Kyle would probably enjoy it, too. Kyle doesn’t consider Ephram’s experience particularly relevant, and wonders why Ephram suddenly cares so much. Ephram, who’s starting to sound like he’s working for the dance organization committee, says it could be a “life-changing experience,” and that if Kyle goes with Kelly, he could suddenly be popular and life would never be hard again! Kyle thinks it’s cooler to have turned her down. Ephram gets a little more serious in tone now, asking if there’s something Kyle’s not telling him. Kyle makes his big announcement: he hates hip-hop music. Ephram: “Okay, so, uh, don’t dance. Most people don’t. Just go and smoke cloves and stand in the corner. And talk to Kelly.” Kyle adds that his mother works then, so wouldn’t be available for transportation. Which is, of course, totally the wrong excuse to use with the person who’s been playing chauffeur for however many weeks by this point. Kyle further adds that Kelly probably has a date already. Ephram declares that “there’s only one way to find out,” and tosses Kyle the phone, and dude, lay off the kid already! Seriously. Kyle gapes at Ephram, who stares back at him, looking dead serious.

Harold and Rose are exuberantly working on adoption forms, of which there are very, very many. Harold refers to the massive folders as “daunting,” but Rose has worked out a system, and hands him a pile of green folders that contain the international forms. Harold suggests that it might cost less to hand-deliver the forms to Kenya themselves. Rose argues that a few hours of paperwork is preferable to ten months of pregnancy. Harold: “For you, maybe.” Heh. Rose hands him a stack of red folders, which have been designated for the medical histories, and asks him to fill them out since he has the records. Harold grimly says he’ll handle it, since Rose has already done so much. Rose admits that the process isn’t much fun, but will be worth it when they have a baby. Harold, however, is not thinking about all the paperwork ahead of him, but about Ellie, though he’s not sure why. Rose thinks that her case is sad, though she admires Ellie’s decision, and calls her “a very brave girl.” Harold is surprised that Rose agrees with her. Yeah, Harold, get into this argument with the woman who just survived cancer. Good call. Rose tells Harold to put himself in Ellie’s place, as she’s already seen her mother die and her sister endure surgery and countless treatments. “Now she’s going to sit around waiting for the same thing to happen to her?” Harold argues that it’s not “preordained. Because there are odds against her, that also means there are odds in her favor.” Rose, however, points out that those odds “are never the ones that come to mind when you’re the potential statistic.” Harold considers this, while Rose suddenly announces that she’s going to the store, and leaves. Harold reads over the top medical form and carefully examines the first question: “Does the patient have any history of cancer or heart disease?” Harold thinks for a second before writing, in big, bold letters, “No.” More LIES! He’s full of them lately! Oh, Harold. No good will come of this. Well, for the characters, I mean. In terms of the show itself, this sort of thing is fantastic. He sighs and closes the folder, probably contemplating how many episodes he has before everything goes horribly, inevitably wrong as a result of this.

Hannah and Bright are having a luau on the roof of the snow-covered apartment building, because Hannah has lost her freaking mind. Bright expresses his sarcastic pleasure that Hannah made mahi-mahi in the middle of winter, and suggests that they maybe eat dessert inside. Hannah insists that they can’t eat inside, since that’s “where the rut lives.” Bright counters that “outside is where hypothermia lives.” Hannah, who, it should be noted, is appropriately attired for the festivities: “I think I’d look a little stupid walking around the apartment with a pineapple on my head!” Pineapple! Okay, I resisted saying anything before, but between this and the fist-bump...the creators of Psych totally must've been Bright and Hannah fans. Bright says something that is true, but also completely wrong, if he knows what’s good for him: “Really? I’d think you’d feel a little stupid walking around with a pineapple on your head no matter where you were!” Hannah gives him a “thanks,” and Bright replies that he’s just kidding. He asks if she’s really not cold. She insists that she’s quite warm, actually, and suggests that he stand with her in front of the hibachi. He does so, and hugs her in a desperate attempt to generate warmth; in the process, he observes that her heart is racing. She pushes him aside in order to take off her coat and start fanning herself. Bright notes that she’s looking flushed, “or, actually...make that splotchy?” Hannah is indeed splotchy, and is horrified to hear it, especially when he says it’s on her face, too. She admits that she had been feeling “gross” for a while, “but we were having so much fun...” Bright: “Yeah, wouldn’t want to tear us away from this.” Hannah says that she’s feeling “a little dizzy” and demonstrates this by collapsing a bit. Bright catches her and asks if he should call Harold. Hannah is firm in her declaration that he should not, and says she just needs to sit, though once she does so, she suddenly looks ill and covers her mouth. Bright: “You know what, I’m going to go ahead and call this one, because you look like you’re about to explode all over the hibachi.” He tells her they’re going inside, but Hannah, now scratching like mad, yells that they “do NOT have to go inside right now!” She then notices that Bright – who has also been scratching – is looking splotchy himself. Bright deems this “awesome.” Hannah looks sick again, and Bright finally manages to get her moving.

Doctors’ office. Andy is preparing to leave for the night, when Ruth appears, and tells him that she hopes he’s proud of himself, because Ellie and her boyfriend fought and broke up after she scheduled the mastectomy, leaving her to spend the day crying in her room. Andy asserts that it was his obligation as a doctor to inform Ellie of all her options. Ruth, however, “doesn’t give a crap about [Andy’s] obligation,” as doctors never seem to consider the long-term implications for their patients. “They swoop in, deliver their words of wisdom, and leave us to deal with the fallout.” Andy admits that she’s right, and that he erred in not advising Ellie against the procedure. Ruth wonders, then, why he even raised it as a possibility in the first place. Evidently, just about every Brown-related storyline this season can be traced back to Babygate: “Because the last time a young woman came to me for help, I screwed things up by trying to control the situation. I withheld information, and tried to manipulate the outcome to get what I wanted.” He tried to do the exact opposite this time, by telling Ellie everything and not “inserting [him]self into the process.” Ruth asks, however, if he isn’t paid to do just that. Andy concedes that he is, but didn’t feel qualified to do so in this case, so intimidated was he by Ellie’s mad maturity and organizational skillz. Ruth: “Welcome to my life. I’ve been scared of her since she was in seventh grade.” Andy’s a little surprised to hear this, given how much Ellie seems to idolize Ruth. Ruth rolls her eyes at this, sardonically referring to herself as “the great cancer survivor,” whose scars Ellie views as a “badge of honor,” though Ruth herself sees them as an ever-present nightmare. “I actually thought about getting implants last year, but I knew Ellie thought it would be a betrayal to the cause. Luckily, I couldn’t afford them, so I didn’t have to disappoint her with my breast treason.” Andy guesses that it must be difficult to be put on a pedestal like that. Ruth’s main concern, though, is that she doesn’t want Ellie to have her life, to have to experience all the physical pain and social discomfort she’s had to endure. “I want her to be a kid, just a little while longer. To go to college, maybe get married someday. To be able to nurse her baby, if she has one. But you can’t stop cancer, can you?” Andy agrees that you can’t. “Not any more than you can stop Ellie.” They both smile a little, though uneasily.

The luau disease fun has moved inside, and Harold’s joined the party. He notes that Hannah’s heart rate is still elevated, and examines the splotches on her arm, observing that they’re not raised, which may eliminate hives as a possibility. Hannah complains about the itching, so Bright offers a can of powder. Harold dismisses this treatment as “it’s not a diaper rash,” and takes a thermometer from Bright’s mouth. He takes note of his 101 degree temperature and starts walking around the living room, puzzled by what it all means. “Of course, three college-aged boys, in close quarters...could be any number of environmental irritants in here. This entire apartment is a biohazard.” He reaches the kitchen, and asks how long ago they ate. Hannah says it’s been an hour, but insists that it can’t be the food, as she’s a very good cook. While Harold holds up a piece of fish for inspection, Bright sarcastically suggests that maybe mahi-mahi isn’t supposed to be prepared “in the winter, on a roof. I don’t know.” Hannah indignantly replies that she was trying to save their relationship. Bright: “By getting us both sick! There’s a new plateau: dying! Huh, we can either break up, get married, or die? What do you think?” Hannah: “I think you should shut your pie-hole, Bright Abbott, or I’m gonna come over there and shut it for you.” This is a thing of beauty. Harold sits on the couch next to Hannah and peers at the laptop on the coffee table. Bright challenges “Splotchy” to “bring it on.” Hannah declares that he doesn’t care about their relationship, and would be content to just go on making her do all the work while he plays cards. Bright asks if she means “drag on. You mean draaag on, with me being normal and you creating problems that don’t exist–” Hannah interrupts him with an “Oh, whatever!” Bright starts making the universal “talking” hand gesture and continues that she talks, “and you talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. And you yammer! And yammer, yammer, yammer...” I just...I can’t even...I’m just not sure how many other characters and/or actors could make this much petty bickering so oddly charming. It’s a special kind of skill. Hannah exclaims that this is “very, very productive, Bright. So glad we’re having this conversation. I’m really glad that you’re such a mature human being!” while he continues to yell about her yammering. Harold finally shushes them and reads off a list of symptoms: “Flushing. Palpitations. Hives.” He pats Hannah’s leg and repeats that they are hives. He asks if they’re experiencing a burning sensation in the mouth, which both confirm they are. Harold’s getting very excited, and asks if there’s also cramping, which there is. Harold triumphantly declares that they have “an extremely rare food borne illness called scombroid.” Hannah raises an eyebrow at this. Harold manages to define it a little more disgustingly than the link does, describing it as being caused by “bacteria that grow in the rotted dark meat flesh—” He cruelly holds up the fish-laden fork to Hannah “—of improperly-stored fish.” Hannah makes a mad dash for the bathroom. Harold: “Yes. Yes, yes, yes! That would be the short-term nausea! And you can also expect diarrhea, sweetheart!” Harold turns back to the computer and marvels over how “thrilling” this all is for him. “Reminds me of my ER rotation – the immediacy, the improvisation.” Bright gives him a crazed look and throws his hands out in exasperation, presumably wondering if there’s a point to any of this. Which there is, and that point is to increase the awesomeness of the scene. Work with us here, Bright. Harold cheerfully continues that the symptoms should clear up in about 8-10 hours, “thanks to my timely diagnosis!” Bright asks if this really means he’ll be sick all night. Harold confirms this, and notes that they should call Nina, since Hannah can’t really go anywhere. He suddenly emits a very serious-sounding “Oh,” which is followed by: “I wonder if JAMA would find this interesting? Perhaps a few photographs.” He picks up a camera that's lying next to the computer, forces Bright to hold up the fork, directs him to “look ill,” and finally takes a picture of patient and bacteria-riddled fish. Now Bright’s sick, and makes his own trip to the bathroom. Harold surmises that his “work there is done.” He puts the camera in his bag and declares “To the pharmacy, Batman!” And off he goes...with his arms outstretched, in some mildly bizarre but very Haroldian attempt to resemble Batman, I guess. A more delightful capper to the scene, I can’t imagine.

Ephram pulls into the PCH parking lot, ready to pick up Kyle, who’s waiting outside the building. Kyle complains that he called Ephram an hour before; Ephram explains that he was at the movies, and adds that he wasn’t expecting to have to pick up Kyle until 11. He asks what happened and where Kelly is. Kyle dismissively replies that she’s inside, and insists that they just go. Ephram considers it more than a little inappropriate to leave without the date he brought, but Kyle declares that any of her “obnoxious friends” are perfectly capable of providing her a ride home. They reach the car, and Ephram again asks what happened. Kyle snits that fine, he’ll just walk home instead, and he marches off, with Ephram, still demanding to know what happened, in pursuit. Kyle lashes out at Ephram for making him go to the dance in the first place, and adds that it was even worse than he thought it would be. Ephram wants to know why. “Did she ditch you? Was she mean to you?” For Kyle, what actually transpired was far worse than that: “She got all drunk and wouldn’t stop grabbing at me. And then all her friends started laughing.” Ephram makes this a story about underage drinking, saying he relates to the difficulty of being the “only sober person at the party.” Kyle, though, would just really like Ephram to stop with the empathy already, because he doesn’t “get” Kyle. Ephram asks what it is that he doesn’t get. Kyle refuses to answer, and pleads for Ephram to take him home. Ephram finally relents, but realizes that there’s really no way around the issue now.

Ephram’s hanging out in the mall. Amy runs up to him, saying that she came as fast as she could and hopes everything’s okay. Ephram apologizes for dragging her away from her friends, but Amy doesn’t seem to mind too much, and asks what happened, noting that Ephram looks “awful.” He doesn’t, actually, because Gregory Smith and Emily Vancamp both look kind of fantastic in this scene. Nice work, hair and makeup people. But anyway, Ephram insists that he is “awful. I’m an awful person on the inside.” Amy assures him that he’s not, and asks again what’s going on. He admits that he thinks Kyle is gay. Amy’s not sure what the issue is, but adds that he seems “a little young.” Ephram agrees, and explains that he initially assumed Kyle was just “shy,” so he made him go to the dance. Amy guesses that he didn’t have much fun. Ephram thinks it’s “more like ‘emotionally scarred for life,’ thanks to me.” Amy is “sure [Ephram] didn’t force him,” but Ephram’s expression disabuses her of this notion. Amy asks, then, why Ephram was so interested in Kyle’s going. Ephram, a little defensively, replies that he doesn’t know, but guesses that he thought Kyle attending the dance would “make him more straight.” Ephram realizes how it sounds, and questions why he felt that way. “I’m from New York. I voted for Kerry.” Amy assures him that he’s not homophobic, but Ephram wonders if he maybe is. Amy suggests, as an alternative, that Ephram knew being gay would just make Kyle’s life more difficult, especially at County. Ephram ponders this, noting that “high school’s gonna be ten times harder” for him. Amy thinks it’s just hard to be different, in general, and that Ephram probably just wanted to “prevent him from going through anything harder than he had to.” Ephram agrees with this, adding that it’s “not fair” for Kyle to have one more thing that sets him apart. Amy says that it may not be fair, but there’s nothing Ephram can do about it. “You can’t prevent him from experiencing heartache or pain. He is who he is, and the more you try to turn him into something he’s not...” Ephram knows this, but wishes Kyle could talk about it, at least. Amy asks if he hasn’t come out, which Ephram confirms he hasn’t, and probably not even to himself. Ephram admits that he doesn’t know what to do. Amy urges him to “make it better,” to show Kyle that he’s there for him. “That’s the great thing about you, Ephram. You’re a good listener.” Ephram wonders how he’s supposed to listen if Kyle doesn’t want to talk. Amy rather unhelpfully tells him that he’ll “figure it out,” as he always does. Ephram stares back at her.

Andy walks through the pretty, pretty snow to a house and knocks on the door. Ruth answers and asks why he’s there. Andy informs her that he spoke with Jake, who agreed to waive his fee for a reconstructive surgery. Ruth wonders how he managed that; Andy explains that Harold is Jake’s landlord. Ruth thanks him, and asks if he’d like to talk with Ellie. Andy would, and follows her to Ellie’s room. Ellie is sitting on her bed, listening to what is probably depressing music on her iPod. She and Andy greet each other, and Andy asks how she is. Ellie: “My boyfriend broke up with me, I missed a test in AP English, and I’m probably going to have cancer, so, not great.” Andy says he’d like to talk with her for a minute, and explains that when he gave her the information the other day, he neglected to offer his opinion. Ellie assumes that he doesn’t think she should have the surgery. He doesn't, and is about to elaborate on why not, when she interjects that she's already decided against it. Andy: “You know, you’re kind of stealing my thunder here, Ellie.” Ellie doesn’t respond to his light tone, so he adds that it’s all right if she’s scared, since cancer is terrible. Ellie points out that she doesn’t have cancer, yet. Andy knows this, but Ellie continues that her break-up with Mitchell is the source of her distress. Andy wonders if they should bring Ruth in for this. Ellie laughs a little at his apparent discomfort. “No. Look, the fact that I’m upset over my stupid boyfriend breaking up with me over my stupid boobs is insane. I know this, don’t get me wrong.” Andy gives her a mildly puzzled “Okay. Good.” She goes on that “the fact that this is what I have been crying about for the past two days kind of made me realize that I can’t prevent crying. And that’s what I was trying to do by having the surgery. Prevent everyone from getting hurt. Not just me, but my dad, and my sister. I wanted the worst to be over with now, so we wouldn’t have to deal with it later.” Andy observes that you can neither prevent nor control pain and tragedy. “But the good news is, happiness can be just as unpredictable. Might even be right around the corner.” Ellie says that something that is right around the corner is Mitchell’s car, and asks if Andy wants to key it with her. Andy smiles mischievously and nods.

Bright and Hannah, both clad in T-shirts, are resting in Bright’s bed. Hannah wakes up and wonders what time it is, fretting that Nina’s probably worried. Bright, already awake, reminds her that they called Nina last night, as Hannah “couldn’t make it ten feet without...” Hannah groans that he shouldn’t remind her, and pulls the covers over her head. Bright tells her, with mild disappointment, that "if you're checking to see if you're nudie-rudie, you're not.” Hannah notes, in a very cute way, that, what with all the illness going on, she forgot to tell him that she’s “in-cred-ibly sorry.” Bright says it’s okay, since Reid’s probably already cleaned the bathroom. Heh. Hannah explains that she’s sorry for her craziness and for all the things she said. “I just don’t want you to get bored with me.” Bright apologizes for his part in contributing to her craziness, and adds that she’s probably right. Hannah takes this to mean that he is bored with her, and wonders where the Pepto-Bismol is. Bright assures her that he just agrees that it sometimes can get boring, and he was trying to pretend that it wasn’t. “You trying to do stuff to make it better, that’s the stuff I should be doing. ‘Cause, you know, we’re bound to get sick of each other from time to time, and I totally think that that’s normal. It’s probably why grown-ups have jobs.” Hee. Hannah smiles and agrees that it’s “possible.” Bright continues that the events of the previous night “prove that we can take it to many new levels without having to break up or get married.” Hannah doesn’t think that scombroid counts as a level. Bright, however, suggests that sleeping in the same bed does. “God, never know what’s gonna pull you out of a rut, but if you go around thinking that it’s only gonna be break-ups and weddings and babies...” Hee! Hannah is very quick to point out that she never said anything about babies. Bright says he’s “just making sure.” Sure, Bright. Hannah asks if she should get the cards. Bright thinks it can wait a little while. “This is kind of nice.” They snuggle in a little closer, though Bright reminds her to “watch the stomach.” And I really hate to say it, but this is pretty much the last time we’ll ever see cute from these two. *sniffle*

Ephram enters Kyle’s room, where Kyle is currently lying on the bed. He remarks that Kyle skipped that day’s lesson; Kyle says he already sent in the audition tape, so the lessons are no longer necessary. Ephram declares that they need to talk, though Kyle insists that they don’t. Ephram ignores him, though, and asks if he should just say it, or if Kyle wants to. Kyle doesn’t want to talk at all, though. “I mean, I know what you think I am, but I’m not. I don’t have to be if I don’t want to be, and I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be anything.” Ephram gently asks why he doesn’t “want to be.” Kyle says it’s for the same reasons that he thinks Ephram doesn’t want him to be: “Because it’s awful.” Ephram emphatically replies that it’s not, and that “there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being–” Kyle interjects a weak “Don’t,” but Ephram concludes: “Gay.” Kyle looks stricken. Ephram continues that he’s sorry for making Kyle feel bad, but Kyle assures him that he already felt that way about his feelings. Ephram insists that he should never feel like that. “You’re an amazing person, Kyle. You just gotta realize it.” Kyle wonders why he has to be something he doesn’t want to be, and asks what would happen if he never acknowledged it. Ephram thinks that he would be lying to himself. “And you’d be denying yourself an entire life that you deserve. And for what?” Kyle doesn’t seem all that pacified, but Ephram’s not finished yet. He continues that the sooner Kyle accepts who he is, the better he’ll feel. Kyle retorts that Ephram doesn’t know that. Ephram concedes that he doesn’t know how difficult it must be for Kyle, but that he does know something about keeping things “bottled up inside [...] I’ve kept secrets because I was afraid of what would happen when they came out, and when they did...” He allows that this isn’t anywhere near the level of what Kyle’s dealing with, but offers the example of coming back from Europe because of his love for Amy. “I didn’t want to tell her, because I thought I could love her from afar, and that would be enough, but it wasn’t. Wasn’t even close. Keeping those feelings just bottled up inside just killed me.” Kyle notes that Amy rejected him when he did finally tell her. Ephram, however, says he’s better off for it. “Now it’s done, it’s over.” Kyle points out, though, that once he comes out, it won’t be “over. It’ll just be more real, and I won’t be able to unsay it.” Ephram wonders why he would want to. Kyle thinks that he doesn’t “need any more reasons to make people hate” him. Ephram promises that no one hates Kyle; “right now, the only person that hates you is you.”

Ben Folds’ “The Luckiest” starts up, indicating that it’s Montage Time! Kyle begins to cry, and Ephram puts a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Hannah and Bright sit up in bed, eating soup and watching TV. Ellie sits with Ruth at the kitchen table and pours them both some iced tea. I’m not really sure what that scene was supposed to signify. Harold looks over the medical forms again and drops the red folder of LIES into the mailing envelope Rose is holding out. Rose giddily departs for the mailbox, while Harold is filled with consternation.

Andy’s asleep on the couch, an open book on his chest. The song is still playing, but there’s really too much dialogue here for it to count as part of the montage. Ephram comes in, and the sound of the door awakens Andy, who greets his son and observes that he “look[s] like hell.” Ephram says he feels like it, too, and sits in the chair next to the couch. He remarks that it must have been “weird” for Andy when Madison came to see him two years earlier. Andy finds it weird that Ephram’s bringing up Madison. Ephram concedes that he’s “all over the place,” and asks if Andy’s “ever had one of those days where something happens, and you just have, like, a flood of memories?” Andy has. Ephram says that, though he forgave Andy some time before, he finally understands why he did it: “You were trying to protect me from getting hurt.” Andy confirms this. Ephram continues that Andy couldn’t, though, which Andy also confirms. Ephram sees now “how you could be so scared, so scared about how the truth would affect somebody else’s future that you would actually do the wrong thing just to keep them safe. And then, in a little while, you realize that you’re actually just making it worse.” He apologizes to Andy, though Andy deems this unnecessary. But Ephram is still thinking about everything Andy went through with Madison, then with Ephram himself, only to end up losing Ephram. Andy: “But I didn’t.” Ephram considers this a moment, then says that he’s tired, and asks if he can stay there for the night (though I wonder how much of this actually has to do with the possibility that Reid hasn’t cleaned the bathroom yet). Andy smiles. “It’s the Brown house. All Browns stay for free.” We conclude on another window-framed shot of the Brown men.

Next time: Reid's a cheat; Hannah and Amy's friends meet; and Jake disagrees with...Treat.