Land of Confusion

Yeah...it's been awhile. And it will probably be a little while (though not 2 months!) before "Truth...", since my usual schedule of teaching and writing classes will be resuming shortly. But isn't Spring Break a grand thing?

Andy is setting up chairs in the living room, and tells Ephram that if they need more, he can get a few from Nina’s garage. All this is going on because Ephram’s students are having a recital! In the Brown living room! Aw! Ephram hands him the program he’s just printed. Andy looks it over and asks if “Symphony of Destruction” was composed by Stravinsky. Ephram: “Megadeth. Don’t ask.” Hee. Andy asks what Ephram will be playing, as it’s customary for the teacher to close out a recital. Ephram, however, will be sitting this one out, as “it’s about the students, it’s not about me.” He’s grown so much! Already, with the teariness. This should be a fun recap. Andy, though, points out that the parents will want to “know what they’re paying for.” Ephram doesn’t really care, but is reminded by this to inform Andy, casual as you please, that he needs a check for $2500. Andy is understandably taken aback, and illustrates this with a rather comical raised eyebrows/shoulder shrug move. Ephram says that it’s for next year’s tuition deposit for A&M. He turns to leave, but Andy wants to discuss Ephram’s plan to transfer, which comes as news to him. Ephram explains that he can’t spend another year at ECC – “I think I’ve actually gotten dumber” – so he contacted Chris Templeman, the A&M guy who recruited him way back in S3's “Shoot the Moon.” He adds that Amy told him (at some point in time though I’ve no idea when, as Amy tends to lie about how often she talks with Ephram) they have a great liberal arts department. Picking up on the possible import of this, Andy asks if Amy has any plans to return the following year. Ephram, all blase, says he doesn’t know. Andy needles Ephram about this a little, but Ephram protests that Amy is not his only reason for staying; he also has friends, students, and an apartment there, as well as access to free food from the Brown house. “I may have to see your sorry face every once in a while, but I guess no plan’s perfect.” Heh. Andy declares that he’s happy if Ephram is, and prepares to get his checkbook. Kyle suddenly enters, cheerfully asking if anyone’s home and observing that the door was open. Open like, "unlocked," or like, “come on in, wild animals and occasionally-snotty teens in denial about their sexuality”? In any case, Ephram shows Kyle the program and informs him that he’s got the last slot, performing Rhapsody in Blue. Kyle announces that he won’t be able to make it, as he has another gig. Ephram doesn’t buy it, but Kyle adds that it’s in New York: he got the Juilliard audition! I never even liked the kid that much, but he’s so happy! Aw! Ephram is stunned. Andy offers him a hearty congratulations. Ephram is now in disbelief, stuttering that it seems like “just yesterday” that they sent in his tape. Andy invites Kyle to stay for a steak dinner, but Kyle has to go home with his mother to pack. He asks for some last words of wisdom from Ephram. Ephram: “Yeah. Don’t suck.” Kyle jovially responds with a “like you did?” Ephram denies that he sucked, but, perhaps wisely, doesn’t go into any further explanation. Instead, he advises Kyle not to rush through the adagio, and wishes him good luck. Kyle thanks him, and waves a peppy goodbye to Andy, before departing. Ephram calls the whole thing “incredible,” and is in awe of the fact that he got a student a Juilliard audition, adding, half-jokingly, that he can charge more for lessons now. He suddenly looks a little glum, and announces that he’s going to get more chairs. Andy is concerned.

Jake’s leading a support group meeting. He’s saying all sorts of inspirational things about “falling down” but getting up again and “finding your balance.” What he says doesn’t really matter, as the main point of this scene is to show that the other members really appreciate his work, as indicated by their applause for him. Also worth noting is Nina’s presence in the back of the room, separate from the actual group. Jake hands out call sheets, reminding everyone that each person is a “strand in a net” and that “if you think you’re gonna fall, call.” I tried to think of a snarky remark to make here, but it's pretty much impossible to top what's just been said onscreen. He concludes with a “be careful out there,” before confessing that he’s always wanted a chance to say that. Heh. The members begin to disperse; a woman named Mary spots Nina and tells her that Jake is “saving her life.” Nina says the same is true for her. Mary urges Nina to “hold onto him,” and walks away. Nina smiles at the sight of Jake with all his disciples. Jake smiles at Nina. Everyone’s happy, la di da.

Meanwhile, over at the Apartment of Discord and Resentment, Hannah is tending to the newly broken-handed Bright, who’s sitting at the counter. She’s kind of hovering, asking if he needs a pillow to prop up his arm, and wondering if ibuprofen should be taken every four or six hours. Bright replies that he’s been taking them every twenty minutes. Hannah looks terrified, but he then tells her he’s kidding. Yeah, you’re a laugh riot, Bright. Mock the girl who just wants to take care of you! Sorry. Preemptive hostility. I mean, Bright is basically tied with Ephram as my favorite character on the show, and he's way up there on my list of favorite TV characters, period. But for the first forty or so minutes of this episode? No. Anyhoo, he assures her that broken hands happen and he’s fine, and thanks her. Hannah wonders, in a somewhat dubious tone, why he thought it was a good idea to karate-chop a board in the first place. Hee. Bright snaps that had he succeeded, it would’ve “been really cool, and I’d have won twenty bucks.” Keep aiming high, Bright. Hannah doesn’t appreciate being yelled at, though Bright insists he didn’t yell. He heads for the couch, while Hannah rebuts that he did yell, and the fact that he didn’t realize it is an indication that he’s still angry with her. Bright insists that he’s not mad, and Hannah tells him he is, and that he has every right to be since she wasn’t honest with him about the party thing. Bright, sounding sincere this time, assures her that that’s not it. Hannah wonders what it is, then. Bright begins by saying that he doesn’t care that she talked about her problems with Amy instead of him; what’s actually bothering him is the possibility that “there’s more stuff. Like, maybe you don’t like the fact that I play video games, or, or, maybe you, you know, you don’t want to make me sandwiches...” Hannah emphatically interjects that she doesn’t mind the sandwiches. Hee! This exchange is such a callback to “The Next Step.” Bright continues that he thinks there has to be more, but that “we just don’t want to say anything about it because we don’t want to upset each other.” Note the repeated use of the personal pronoun. Hannah certainly does, and questions it. Bright quickly replies that he didn’t say “we. I said ‘ye.’ Like pirates talk.” I’ll give you this one, Bright: heeee. But that’s all you’re getting for the rest of the episode. Hannah scoffs at his excuse, and marches over to the couch, declaring that she wants to know if he hasn’t been honest with her about something. “Something that I do that you don’t like? Or something that you want me to do that I don’t?” Yeah...pretty sure it’s that one. And sure enough, Bright jumps in at just this point to deny that he has any problems, and then gets all unpleasant again, accusing Hannah of making the whole thing “specific” and putting it on Bright, when she was the one who lied. Hannah defensively replies that she was just trying to compromise, since he cares so much about parties, and that she only “pretended” because she loved him. Bright wonders if that isn’t their whole problem. Hannah questions this, but Bright actually makes a not-unreasonable point here: “You feel like you have to pretend for me. You know, maybe we’re more different than we thought. But because we love each other so much, we’ve been trying to, y’know, be more the same. And...that’s probably why something is missing here.” As much truth as there might be to this statement, it’s not exactly welcome to Hannah, who pitifully asks “what’s missing?” Bright shrugs that he doesn’t know. Hannah, angrily this time, asks how he can know something’s missing, then. Bright replies, in a casually obnoxious way, thus sort of negating for me the reasonable claim he just made, that he doesn’t “know,” but can “just feel it.” Hannah’s had enough, and storms towards the door, while Bright issues a half-hearted apology, claiming not to know what he’s saying. Hannah retorts that she doesn’t know what he’s saying, either; “all I know is that you’re making me feel horrible, so, goodbye.” Two confrontations in as many episodes! She’s on a roll! Hannah makes her exit, leaving Bright alone with his jackassery.

Brown House Revisited. Nina’s there now, setting up flower arrangements for some reason or other, and gushing about how “empathetic and perceptive” Jake is and how happy he is helping others. Andy’s only response is to remark that he thought she wasn’t going to attend the meeting; Nina admits that she wasn’t, initially, but Andy made her realize how unsupportive that would be. She also realized that she didn’t want to be one of the stone-throwing townspeople she feared, though the meeting made her see that everyone actually adores Jake and his grand plan. Andy is glad things have worked out. Nina, who, for some reason, still thinks it’s a terrific idea to discuss this relationship with the third party who happens to be in love with her, declares that she’s also realized how very lucky she is. Andy: “Yep. You are two lucky people.” It’s really all in the flat delivery, which merits a nice hee! Andy notices the floral arrangements covering every spare surface of the living room and asks if it “look[s] like a florist threw up in here?” (Yes.) Nina’s too lost in Jake-induced dreaminess to be of any design help to Andy, though, as she muses that they are lucky, and that she “never thought [she’d] find [her]self here again.” Andy wonders where “here” is; Nina is referring to being in a place where she imagines having a future with someone. Andy guesses that she means “weddings, honeymoons, babies.” Nina laughs that she hadn’t even thought of babies, but sure, that too! I have to give Andy massive credit here, because we have come a long, long way from S3 and the premiere. You now have the patience of a saint, dude. Andy seemingly concludes his list of future things with the non-sequitur “...and candles,” though he clarifies matters by announcing that there are too many of those, besides flowers, in the room. Nina asks what she’s waiting for, since she and Jake aren’t getting any younger and should get started on the kid thing ASAP. In fact, she and Jake should get married! Andy, mildly alarmed, glances up from the chairs he’s arranging and replies that maybe they will, someday. Nina, however, thinks they should just “do it now.” Andy reminds her that she should probably wait for the proposal first, but Nina wonders why she can’t just do the proposing herself, as it is 2006 and all. (Hee hee. It’s a testament to how tired I am that I’m still totally amused by the date discrepancies that arise when recapping a long-canceled show.) Nina doesn’t add as support the fact that Lorelai Gilmore set that proposal precedent just a year earlier, perhaps because Nina read spoilers about how disastrously that engagement was going to turn out. She sits, as does Andy, who observes that she’s serious about this and remarks that Jake must have given “one hell of a speech.” Nina says that it’s not just the meeting, but all the things he’s been doing to improve himself – cutting back his office hours, helping her at Sam’s, and spending time with the human Sam. Nina concludes that Jake is “trying to appreciate his life more.” Andy, staring at the floor, weakly replies that it’s “great,” but that it all seems a little soon since they “just got back on track.” Nina protests the “just,” but Andy continues that they should “live with it for awhile, enjoy the view.” Nina says that she’s so happy, moreso than she’s been in years, and that it may be a “leap of faith, but what marriage isn’t?” Andy concedes this point. Nina asks if he can think of any real reason for her not to take that leap. Andy looks her in the eyes and...does not do what he would’ve done 14 or 15 episodes earlier, which is to say that he merely sighs a little, and jovially declares that he won’t help her pick out a ring. Nina stands and laughs, giving Andy a peck on the cheek as she bounces out of the room. Andy, meanwhile, remains seated, looking very, very sad.

Apartment again, this time occupied by characters who are actually presently likeable. The phone rings, waking Ephram, who comes down from his crawl space and calls for Bright to get it. Andy enters at that moment and informs Ephram that he just passed Bright and Reid in the hall. And at just that moment, Bright leaves Ephram a message declaring a “Code red: Your dad is coming upstairs right now! Code red!” Heh. Ephram picks up the phone and, grimacing, thanks him for the heads-up. Andy amusedly remarks on the system they’ve set up. Ephram changes the subject, asking “to what do I owe this housecall, before my morning cereal, no less?” Andy casually replies that he just wanted to finally check out the apartment; in the process of doing so, he espies a suspiciously-familiar toaster oven and asks if it’s his. Ephram is quick to deny this, and asks what’s up. Andy takes a few moments before confessing that he’s been thinking about Kyle and Juilliard. Ephram: “You need hobbies, Dad.” There’s always flower arranging. Andy, though, wants to make his point, which is this: while he knows Ephram is happy for Kyle, he also knows that the news “messed with [his] head a little.” Ephram admits that it might have. Andy asks if he wants to talk about it, which Ephram decidedly does not: “What’s the point? I blew my audition. It’s not like I’m gonna get a third chance. I think it’s safe to say that ship has officially sailed.” Andy, continuing the cliched metaphor, proposes that he just take another ship instead, like Yale or Peabody or Indiana. Ephram, though, reminds Andy that he’s already “set things in motion” with A&M. Andy, however, insists that nothing’s set in stone, and that he doesn’t want to see Ephram there just because of Amy. Ephram asserts that it’s not “just” because of Amy, though, he admits, it is “mainly” because of her. Andy urges Ephram not to base his major life decisions on “a girl who may or may not be there for you at the end of the day,” and mentions how hard it would be to have to witness her ending up with someone else. Ephram turns it right back on Andy, adding “Especially if she’s my neighbor.” Andy heartily agrees with this. Ephram sits down with Andy at the counter and says that even if he did want to attend a conservatory, which he’s not saying he does, it would be too late to audition for that year. “That puts me twelve months behind. Piano time is like dog years: compared to Kyle, I’m already like 70.” Andy asks Ephram to let him help, since he has a few “connections” that Ephram has never let him use before. This is because Ephram wants to earn his achievements, but Andy assures him that he’ll still have to; Andy can simply “open a few doors” for him. Ephram accepts the offer, though under one condition: “I keep the toaster.” Hee. Andy asks if Ephram would really “sell [his] soul for a toaster.” Apparently yes, as Ephram declares it a “kick-ass toaster.” Good times! And then...

Oh, yay, Bright and Reid at Sam’s. Bright is on his cellphone, apparently checking his messages, which, according to Reid, he just did five minutes earlier. Bright explains that he left Hannah a message to apologize, but she hasn’t returned his call. He notes that it’s the longest they’ve ever gone without talking, and flings an empty coffee cup in Reid’s general direction. Reid, picking up on the ire, asks what happened. Bright says that they’re just “in a bad place” and he doesn’t know how to get past it without admitting the truth, which he can’t do as it would mean that he had been lying and thus can’t be mad at Hannah for lying. “Which, honestly, I’m not even really mad about. It’s just...it makes me think about my lying and...we’re just in a bad place.” Dang, all the space that dialogue just took up, and that was with my having paraphrased a good portion of it. He’s been spending entirely too much time around Hannah. Reid says that it’s “the sex thing, right?” Bright glances around and asks if Reid doesn’t have some kind of mental “secret decoder ring.” Reid, however, simply asks if Bright really thinks he’s that fond of the gym, and announces that he himself hasn’t had sex in eight months. Wow, Reid, I can’t believe you’ve lived to tell the tale. Bright points out, though, that Reid doesn’t have a girlfriend who will do “other stuff” but not “the stuff,” which constantly reminds him of what he doesn’t get to do, and I’m sure the many other patrons of Sam’s standing nearby are finding this conversation quite entertaining. Bright finally compares the situation to having an ice cream cone that he can never actually finish licking. On Hannah’s behalf, ew. Reid notes that Bright never has to finish the Ice Cream Cone of Hannah's Love, and that he and Hannah seemed to be “great,” so why is it an issue now? Bright confesses that he’s worried that they’re ignoring everything that’s not working. “I was completely fine when it was just me pretending, but now that I know she’s pretending, too, it makes me wonder if our whole relationship is false. If we can’t be who we really are, then who are we, really?” Someone still remembers his philosophy course! Reid brings up Occam’s Razor. Bright’s all “of course, Achmed’s Razor...” Maybe not. Reid explains, and suggests that the simplest solution to Bright’s problem would simply be to talk to Hannah about it. Bright, however, protests that he already knows that Hannah will just say that she doesn’t believe in premarital sex, and that won’t change; neither, however, will the fact that Bright wants it. Reid concedes this, and says that Bright and Hannah might just have to break up, but at least they would do so in complete honesty, and that if Bright really loves Hannah, he owes her that much. Bright glumly observes that he “can’t believe this. I feel like I’m right back on that rock with Ephram.” The now-confused Reid jokes that his “decoder ring just broke,” and then leaves for the library. Bright checks his messages again.

Nina, her hands covering Jake’s eyes, leads him into the dining room and guides him to a chair at the table. She uncovers his eyes, and he is shocked and astounded to see in front of him...a laptop computer. “It’s...my laptop?” Nina rolls her eyes a little and directs the “boy genius” to look at the screen. Jake observes that it’s the “Vail Mountain Inn” site, and Nina announces that she just booked a room for them there this weekend, and goes on about all the great skiing, in-room massages, and dinner they can enjoy. She also adds that there will be an “extra-special surprise” after all that, so I guess she found a ring. Jake, however, says that he can’t go, as he already has plans to go to his old rehab center in Carbondale. Nina, sounding very disappointed, remarks that she had checked his appointment book the day before, but Jake explains that it was all very sudden; he met an addictions counselor at the meeting, who said that Jake’s program would be perfect for “isolated small towns” and encouraged Jake to attend this weekend’s state counseling convention in an effort to get state funding. Jake concludes that if all goes well, his program could eventually go national. Nina happily calls this “amazing,” and Jake concurs. She asks how it would work, exactly, like if he would run the whole program and, if so, if it would work on a part-time basis for him. Jake doesn’t know yet, but does suggest that if he enjoys it enough, he might just give up his practice. Nina is happy for him, and reaches for the computer in order to reschedule their reservation. Jake, though, proposes that Nina just come to Carbondale with him, instead, since Sam’s already spending the weekend with Shutup Carl. Nina is dubious, but Jake talks up the Carbondale Holiday Inn’s luxurious amenities, including vending machine food, cable movies, and an in-room massage by Jake. He concludes that after all that, Nina can give him her surprise. Nina accepts his invitation.

Bright exits a building on the ECC campus, with phone in hand, and heads for the parking lot, where he spots the peculiar juxtaposition of a blonde chick, a table, and a small car. Insert your own joke. As he walks past the trio, he remarks to the human member of it that she can keep staring, but the table’s not going to fit. The woman greets Bright as “Tony Tigarillo” and Bright is happily surprised to realize that it’s Ada, last seen producing a fake ID for Ephram back in S2's “Unspoken Truths.” She has some convenient timing, this one. Ada Ex Machina calls Bright the “big man on campus;” Bright, kind of flustered, goes along with this, and asks if Ada’s also an ECC student. Ada sarcastically asks if she looks like a sorority girl; considering that she kind of does, albeit one who’s about five to ten years older than the others, this necessitates her actually coming right out and saying that she’s not a student. She explains that she just bought the table off of craigslist for her new shop, as her yarn store actually sells yarn now. Bright deems this a “bold concept.” Ada continues that “stitch and bitch” is very in right now, but that her only problem is that she can’t figure out how to fit the table into the trunk of her car. Bright observes that it’s a bit of a square peg-round hole issue, and asks if she measured first. Ada says “yeah, right,” and explains that she doesn’t measure things, because she’s a girl. Shut up, YarnHo. She’s all, “I thought I could just mush it in, hee hee!” More importantly, she declares that her “trunk is too tight,” a line which essentially leads Bright to pursue a slightly less simple solution to his problem, though one that will have the same basic outcome as Reid’s suggestion. He makes Bad Decision #1, as he offers to put Ada’s table in his truck and deliver it to the shop. Ada notes that the table is heavy and Bright is currently one-handed; Bright replies that Ada has “no idea what [he] can do with just one good hand.” Ada laughs, and Bright, realizing how it sounded, hastily explains that he didn’t mean it that way, ho ho! Ada volunteers to help carry the table, and they each pick up an end and make their way to the truck.

Random Concert Hall. Andy asks Ephram what he thought of the performance; Ephram’s all adorably giddy and goes on about how the guy they just heard is “the greatest pianist in America” and that he played the mazurka even faster than Chopin could have. Andy guesses that Ephram liked it, then. Ephram confirms that it was, indeed, “awesome,” but that he’s not sure how it will help him figure out his future. Andy casually suggests that Ephram just ask the pianist, and calls out a “Hey, Andre!” Ephram notes that Andy said that as though he knows the guy, which Andy informs him he does, as he operated on his father a few years earlier. Andre comes over and greets Andy as “Doc,” before turning to Ephram and remarking that Andy’s told Andre a lot about him. Ephram apologizes [hee] and says he’s a big fan. Andre replies that he’s a big fan of Andy’s, and adds that his father says hi. Andy suddenly announces that he’s going to go get something to drink, and leaves the two pianists alone. Andre remarks that Andy’s told him Ephram plays, which Ephram confirms he does, though nothing like Andre does. Andre assures him that he didn’t always play like that, either; nodding in the direction of backstage, he offers Ephram some coffee. Ephram accepts, and follows Andre. Upon reaching the stage, Ephram takes a moment to look around and, presumably, to imagine his piano-playing future, before heading backstage.

Yarn Shop of Gahhh. Bright is seated at a table, while Ada saunters over to offer him “another” beer. Bright lamely replies that he should probably be leaving, but, making Bad Decision #2, declares that he’s “not one to waste good beer,” and so accepts her offer. Ada sits, while Bright asks what “stitch and bitch” is, exactly. Ada defines it as a bunch of women sitting around, drinking wine, knitting and discussing their boyfriends. Bright thinks it sounds “dangerous.” Ada suggests that it’s good to “get things off your chest sometimes.” Is every line she says meant to sound like a double entendre? Apparently so, as Bright’s only response is to take a big swig of beer. Ada decides she’d be more comfortable perched atop the table, and parks herself there in front of Bright while innocently asking if he needs to get anything off his chest. Bright says that he doesn’t, though he confesses that he sometimes likes to karate-chop blocks of wood. Yeah, you know, Bright, that bit of information was only cute the first time. When your girlfriend mentioned it. He continues that he’s just taking classes right now and figuring out what he wants to do. Ada asks what it is that he wants to do. Bright shrugs that he doesn’t know, though Ada insists that “some part of” him must know. Bright claims that it’s “all very confusing.” Randomly, Ada decides that this means there’s a girl involved. Because that’s generally how conversations about figuring out one’s career future go. With Bad Decision #3, Bright admits that there is a girl involved, but that things are “very weird” at the moment. Ada, ever subtle, surmises that there are “problems in the boudoir.” Stupid Bright is like “How did you...” before quickly asking why she would think that. In a friendly gesture, Ada decides to rest her feet in Bright’s lap, and observes that people say “if the sex is good, it’s only 5 percent of the relationship, but if the sex is bad...” She takes a moment to lean in close to Bright, perhaps because she fears he won’t hear her in the ‘sultry’ voice she’s decided to adopt. “...It’s 95 percent.” Stupid, stupid Bright asks what they say “if there’s no sex at all?” Ada, puzzled, asks if it’s “the hand-thing,” but Bright grimly replies that it’s “pre-hand.” Ada plays footsie with Bright’s beslinged arm, and asks if that means he can “still do stuff,” even with a cast. Bright eyes her a little warily, but replies that he doesn’t know, because he hasn’t tried. Ada, in the interests of scientific discovery, eases off the table and into Bright’s lap, declaring it a “shame,” since Bright’s “at [his] sexual peak and all” and oh kill me now. Ada then says something I can’t understand about possibly his “wrist” and “beer,” but enunciation doesn’t seem to be Kelly Carlson’s strong suit, so whatever, and kisses him. Bright – Bad Decision #4 time! – is totally cool with all this. Ada proceeds to remove her shirt, revealing her (naturally) bright-red lace bra. They begin to make out in earnest, and Bright moves the proceedings to the tabletop and...Bright! No! YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW! But he's just a little too preoccupied making Bad Decision #5 to pay any heed.

Backstage. Andre is regaling Ephram with a story about performing at Warsaw’s Grand Concert Hall; it was cold and no one else spoke English, but his performance of Someone’s Third Sonata was so exceptional that he went from being a “nobody” to a “god” with record deals and such. Way to keep yourself humble there, Andre. Ephram appears kind of overwhelmed. Andre asks what Ephram’s story is, and remarks that Andy had told him he “missed out” on the Juilliard audition. Ephram adds that it was almost a year before, and Andre correctly surmises that Ephram’s afraid he’s missed his chance. Ephram responds by hanging his head down and looking morose. Though, that’s how he’s looked for pretty much this whole scene. Andre assures Ephram that he hasn’t missed out on anything, and optimistically offers himself as an example, explaining that he just adhered to a plan of school, practice, and competitions, and is now, as a result, “living the dream.” Ephram rather skeptically asks if “a plan” was really all that was necessary. Andre informs him that it’s ultimately less about talent, and more about “who wants it the most.” Ephram guesses that that’s the problem, as he’s never quite known what he’s wanted. Andre asks if, during the concert, Ephram imagined himself performing on-stage. Ephram, of course, did, “until you started the mazurka, in which case I came crashing back down to earth.” Andre declares that Ephram has his answer, then, as “a performer wants to play.” Well, that’s...goofy advice. Sometimes I like to imagine myself performing in concerts, too, but I have no illusions about actually becoming a handbell-flute-and-violin-playing singer-pianist. Though that’s largely because I never actually got past the beginning levels in the first four of those things, so...never mind. Um, so Andre reminds Ephram that he is a PERFORMER, and exhorts him to make his plan and to work and – that universally useful gem – to “go for it!” Andre’s phone starts to ring, though he doesn’t answer. After several rings, Ephram asks if it’s his girlfriend; Andre smirks a little and says it’s his manager, adding that he hasn’t had a girlfriend since high school, given how difficult his schedule makes it to meet people. Ephram replies that his family, at least, must attend some of his shows. Andre remarks that they used to, but “the thrill is gone” and he doesn’t see them very often, though he tries to visit every other Christmas or so. Ephram smiles sardonically and guesses that “it’s true what they say: it’s lonely at the top.” Andre, however, is a little less sentimental than Ephram, and smirks that “the view is great.” Ephram smiles sardonically some more, while Andre’s phone rings again; this time it’s his ride, ready to take him to the airport. Ephram thanks Andre for his time. Andre isn’t quite done yet, though; he says that he went to the Yale School of Music, and will call them right away and set up an audition for Ephram for the following week. Ephram’s just a little stunned by the whole “next week” thing (and how well would that go, anyway? He’s been playing again since “Lost and Found,” but he hasn’t really been in audition-mode the way he was throughout Season 3). Andre doesn’t put any additional pressure on at all when he continues that as long as Ephram doesn’t “screw it up – which you won't – you’ll start fall semester.” He adds that he’ll call Andy about the details. Ephram nods a little, and they shake hands, with Andre wishing him a final good luck before departing.

Jake and Nina asleep in bed. The phone rings, waking Jake, who picks up after several rings. After the caller says something at length, Jake assures her [lame spoiler! It was that or use “he/she/it” the rest of the phone convo] that he’ll be there right away, and that she should just stay where she is. Jake starts to get up, and Nina finally awakens. Jake urges her to go back to sleep, but she observes that he seems to be getting ready to go out. Jake explains that the previously-seen Mary is currently standing outside the Sportsman’s Lodge and it’s his duty to make sure she doesn’t go inside. Nina notes that it’s after midnight, but Jake equates it to being on-call for a hospital. Nina, however, sees a bit of a difference between that and being on-call for a bar. Jake, though, says it’s “where the sick person is,” and kisses Nina goodbye, telling her not to worry and, again, to go back to sleep. Nina looks a little too unsettled for that, however.

Camera pans over yarn and Ada’s discarded bra while, off to the side of the frame, Bright puts on his shirt, which I suppose is to compensate for having to watch Ada reveal said bra in their last scene. Except now Ada emerges from some back room wrapped in just an afghan. She holds out a glass of water and asks if Bright would like some. Bright, looking ill, refuses but thanks her for the offer. He gathers up his coat and sling, while Ada, sounding rather wistful, asks if he has to go. Bright claims to have this “thing” the next day, but leans in a little closer to say that he “had fun” and it was “nice seeing you again.” Ada agrees. Bright leaves, and Ada stares after him, wearing a somewhat creepy smile that makes it seem as though she’s soon going to stalk him, and perhaps boil Reid or something.

Bright, meanwhile, is now sitting in his truck and looking pretty much like death warmed over, and this is about the point where I can drop the hostility.

Next day. Ephram’s Pianopalooza! A punk-y girl is finishing up “Symphony of Destruction.” The parents in attendance are underwhelmed, but Ephram, standing in the doorway, starts up the applause and tells “Penny” it was “fantastic.” He makes his way to the front of the room (which, right now, is ‘the place where the piano is’) and announces a 15-minute intermission and urges everyone to enjoy the bundt cake. He turns to Penny and tells her she did a great job, though she thinks “the ending sucked.” And it sort of did, but Ephram assures her that she made “me and Megadeth very proud.” Penny perks up and Ephram smiles at this and it’s just all so cute and this episode is wrecking me on so many levels, I swear. Ephram glances up and spots a worried-looking Kyle standing in the doorway. Ephram, concerned, asks what’s going on, since he’s supposed to be in New York. Kyle says that they came home a day early, and they go outside to discuss things further. Ephram, of course, has assumed the worst, and asks if Kyle froze up. Kyle, however, smiles and announces that the audition was great; he’s received a callback and met with financial aid – they’re offering him a scholarship! Aw, Kyle! *sniffle* Ephram is genuinely, happily shocked and deems this “incredible,” but wonders, then, why Kyle looks less than ecstatic. Kyle confesses that he told his mother. Ephram asks what that means; Kyle makes a bit of a “duh” face, and Ephram finally Gets It. Kyle explains that they were walking through Times Square and, evidently, all its bustle and energy prompted him to just say it. Ephram asks how he feels; Kyle feels “overwhelmed, but good,” and notes that his mother took it well and even said that she already knew. He concludes that he and his mom will both be moving to New York, if he’s accepted. Ephram amends Kyle’s “if” to a very definite “when,” though the once-arrogant Kyle responds with a “we’ll see.” Even he’s grown! Oh, the Brown men and the surrogate son. It’s all so lovely! Ephram says that he’s proud that Kyle “did it.” Kyle: “Because of you. All of it, really.” *sniffle sniffle* He continues that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to thank Ephram for changing his whole life. Ephram assures him he doesn’t have to, though Kyle, slightly nonsensically, replies that he “think[s] [he] just did.” They laugh a little, and Kyle observes that Ephram should probably go back inside. Ephram pauses a moment before asking if Kyle would like to play. Kyle asks if he gets the finale. Ephram says that, actually, he’ll be taking the finale after all, “but you can warm them up for me.” Kyle laughs and follows Ephram inside. *recapper continues to dab at tears*

Jake and Nina in the kitchen, preparing for the Carbondale excursion. Nina is looking over a document that informs her that it is, in fact, actually possible to be “addicted to love,” and the scene would be entirely more entertaining if Jake then broke into song to elaborate on this. But all he does is take the booklet from her and add that it’s just one of many addictions, like “booze and drugs and sex” and a whole passel of other things. He asks Nina if she’d mind driving, since he needs to review his abstracts in preparation for everything. Nina is a bit taken aback by all this, given that she thought he only had to give a presentation, but he explains that he’s actually expected to “do the full-court press...like one-stop shopping for the entire addiction community.” He holds up a tie and asks if he should go with or without, the latter of which he cites as the “Tony Robbins” look, which doesn’t seem like a ringing endorsement for the tie-less approach. Nina wonders when she’ll get to see Jake. Jake confesses that he’s not sure, since it’s all turned out to be more work than he initially expected. Nina rather tensely notes that she can see, and, sounding slightly chagrined, he apologizes. Nina decides to take things in a new direction and, taking a seat at the table, says that while she’s no expert, she wonders if there isn’t maybe a “pattern.” Jake, tying his tie, has no idea what she means, so she elaborates: he finally cut back on his office hours, only to begin going “100 miles an hour” with his support group work. Jake defensively replies that it’s just “who I am: I work hard, I play hard,” and as long as it’s in the service of helping others and staying sober, isn’t it really all to the good? Nina tentatively suggests that it’s not a problem, but that it seems as though it might make it difficult for him to put their relationship first. Jake very heartily denies this, actually uttering the words “I can have it all!” Wow. He exclaims that he can totally handle work and a relationship and the meetings “and everything can come first!” Again, wow. Nina laughs that that may be true at the moment, but wouldn’t be so with kids involved, since “babies trump everything.” Jake doesn’t at all realize what she’s getting at, dismissing her concerns by observing that Sam is not a baby. Nina gazes at him intently, eventually leading him to realize what she’s actually saying. He returns her slightly hopeful gaze with one of awkward terror. After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Jake flatly states that Nina wants to have a baby. Nina admits that she does, “eventually,” and asks if it hasn’t crossed Jake’s mind. Jake sighs and smiles a little, before confessing that it hasn’t, actually. Nina is disappointed. Jake sits down, and the two share another, even longer and more uncomfortable silence, before he gently reminds her that he’s only been sober for two months, and needs to take life one day at a time. He assures her he loves her, but he’s “just not thinking about the future in that way.” He adds that he “thought [Nina] understood that.” This really, really seems like a conversation they should have had a very long time ago, but then, the whole narcotics addiction revelation put a bit of a wrench in matters, I suppose. Nina, as we well know, did not 'understand that,' but she just smiles wryly and remarks that she must have jumped the gun. Jake looks a bit sad, and, after a few more silent moments, says that he’s sorry. Nina is sorry that Jake’s not ready for the future, too, though she doesn’t say it in so many words.

Bachelor Pad of Remorse. The phone rings; Reid picks up and perkily greets the caller – Hannah, of course, the mention of whose name prompts Bright, who’s slump-sitting on the floor next to his bed, to look up in dread. Reid tells Hannah to hang on, but Bright gives Reid the “I’m not here” gesture. Reid mouths a “seriously?,” but goes along with this and lies to Hannah that Bright just left and that Reid will tell him she called. Bright continues to look deeply rueful.

Brown kitchen. Ephram appears to be putting the food from the recital away when Andy walks past and invites him to come watch the recital video. Ephram thought that he and Andy had an “agreement,” which Andy confirms that they did: he said that he wouldn’t tape the proceedings, and he didn’t – Penny’s father did. Ephram is appalled that Andy would “bribe” the other man, though I’m not sure what evidence Ephram has for Andy having done this. But he did, apparently, since he replies that he only did it so they’d have Ephram’s performance of Chopin to give to Andre as part of the whole Yale plan. Ephram announces, however, that he will not be going to Yale. Andy breezily asks if it’s too far, and suggests he try Indiana, instead: “You could be a Hoosier!” I think Treat is doing 'fun delivery' overtime to make up for this episode’s Tom Amandes deficiency. Andy starts the tape, providing a very nice soundtrack for the next few seconds. Ephram declares that he’ll be attending Colorado A&M, and has already spoken with Chris Templeman, who will have him enrolled in the Music Education program for the following fall. Andy, puzzled, turns off the tape and asks if Ephram wants to teach. He does, in fact: “Right now I want to do that more than anything else.” What is wrong with my tear ducts and this storyline? He thanks Andy, who replies that he didn’t do anything. Ephram thinks that he did, though, by setting up the get-together with Andre, since otherwise Ephram would have wondered what he might have missed out on by not pursuing that course. Andy wonders what changed Ephram’s mind. Ephram: “I did. After Mom died, I mean...even before, I used music to hide. I would lock myself in my room, not deal with anything, including myself. I’m done with that, I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I’m sick and tired of being the ‘genius-loner-piano prodigy.’ Music connects me to the world. I love seeing Penny get better, or, or seeing the lightbulb go off as Kyle finally gets a piece. I can help change these kids, I could show them who they are, who they could be...just like the Army.” Andy is clearly quite proud of his son, and observes that Ephram has figured out more before the age of 21 than Andy has in 52 years: “I guess you are a prodigy!” Ephram disputes this, noting that it took him this entire year to come to terms with the events of S3, meaning that he’s actually rather slow. But, he continues, at least he can now put everything behind him, “except for one thing: Madison.” Andy responds with a knowing “Ah,” and Ephram says regretfully that he was a “jerk” to her. Andy thinks that she probably understands, but Ephram still wishes he could somehow go back in time to the coffee shop debacle and handle things better than he did. Andy says that’s “simple.” Ephram dryly asks if Andy knows how to time travel, and man would that make an awesome spin-off, but only as long as he took Harold along for the ride. Andy, though, merely suggests that Ephram call Madison, though Ephram scoffs that he wishes it were that easy. Andy replies that it’s not easy, but it does work, and offers one of his grins. Ephram stares at him, for several moments, and...end scene. Slightly anti-climactic conclusion there, but excellent overall.

Sam’s. Nina’s at a table going over paperwork. Andy, who’s suddenly there now (because he does time travel! This is actually happening at the same time as the previous scene! It’s a big crazy paradox! For real!), spots her and asks if she isn’t supposed to be in Vail. Nina glumly explains that Jake had “a sobriety thingy in Carbondale.” Andy realizes the import of this change in plans, and asks if Nina’s okay. She says that she is, and is a little embarrassed about having gotten carried away, especially in front of Andy. Andy takes a seat and sarcastically remarks that he’s certainly never done anything “stupid” in front of her! “Hey, you want to play the shame game? You have got miles to go to catch me, girlfriend.” Hee! Ah, feels good to genuinely like Andy again. Nina laughs, but sighs that she doesn’t “know what [she’s] doing anymore.” Andy thinks that she’s just trying to be happy, which is “harder than it looks.” He asks if Sam’s still away, and Nina says he is, so “‘til Monday, it’s just me.” Wait – wait. Hold on. There is still a fourth person living in that house, yes? Are we back to that pesky alternate dimensions thing that’s cropped up before? I blame Time Travelin’ Andy’s paradox for this. Andy invites Totally Alone Nina to have dinner with he and Delia, trying to lure her with the promise of “awesome leftovers from the recital.” Nina begs off, claiming paperwork, but Andy argues that if Nina really feels bad, she shouldn’t be “alone,” but should instead come over and be an “honorary Brown.” Nina finally accepts and thanks him, and says she’ll see him later, before standing and sashaying to her office. Andy watches her sashay, but he’s behaving well, so it’s okay.

Ephram is...I’m not entirely sure where he is, actually. The crawl space? But if so, then the next scene must take place quite a bit later than this one, because Ephram’s elsewhere by then. I’ve really lost all sense of time and space here, so let’s just say that he’s somewhere with a phone and bedroom furniture. He, and we, hear Madison’s answering machine message, and after the beep, Ephram begins. He expresses surprise that the number still works, thus explaining how he knows where to call, and then refers to himself as “me,” but further explains that it’s “Ephram,” since he assumes she’s moved on to other “it’s me”s. He finally starts to make his point, which is that he’s been thinking about her, and everything, quite a bit recently, and – he closes the door, so is he in the Brown house, I guess? His old room? – after stuttering and hemming and hawing a bit, which works onscreen but doesn’t translate well to recappage, he apologizes for his behavior in the coffee shop. He now realizes how painful it must have been for her to tell the truth, and admits that he didn’t handle it well and wishes he could have responded better. He hopes that she’s well, and happy, “at least as happy as we can be, right?” Realizing how long this message is getting to be, he promises to hang up shortly, but apologizes once more, and thanks her “for everything.” He hangs up. Wow, that scene lost something in recap-translation.

Apartment. Bright is in the kitchen when he hears a knocking at the door, accompanied by Hannah first asking if he’s there, and then observing that she knows he’s there, anyway, since his truck is outside. Bright grimaces, and walks very, very slowly to the door. Once there, he leans his head against it for a moment, until Hannah knocks again and he has little choice but to let her in. She begins by saying that she’s spent the last two days thinking, “like, non-stop thinking,” which, judging from the tempo here, seems to have been accompanied by non-stop caffeine consumption. But I made it through seven seasons of Gilmore Girls and a lifetime of hearing myself speak; I can brave the 120-mile-a-minute monologue about to come. She continues that the constant thinking gave her a headache, and at this point Bright makes his first attempt to speak, but is cut off, as Hannah explains that she came to the realization that Bright was right. Bright shakes his head and fervently denies this, but Hannah insists that he was, that he was “just being honest and trying to figure it out,” which she herself was not doing. Bright sits at the counter and looks ill, again. Hannah continues that she thought all along that the party pretending was a compromise, “like, I had the whole thing rationalized in my brain: ‘compromises make relationships, blah blah blah blah blah.’” Did the voice saying that sound like Amy? Because she’s been known to offer relationship platitudes before. In any event, Hannah admits that that wasn’t what she was doing at all. Bright, noticing that the room’s suddenly grown eerily quiet, fills the void with a weak “It wasn’t?” Hannah, getting very enthusiastic, replies that “the truth is, I just didn’t want you to think I was that same dorky girl you became friends with last year. I thought that if you thought that, we never would have gotten this far. So I deliberately changed who I was, a little, to be someone who I thought you wanted, until I couldn’t remember, like, which was me, and which was faking...” – Bright actually smiles a little at her endearingly melodramatic delivery of this last part – “...Which is so ironic, since the only thing you ever wanted is for me to be myself!” She’s finally got it right, everything she got wrong in those first few eps of the season, and it’s too late. Stupid, brilliant show. Bright interjects, sounding as bad as he looks, that he “made a mistake,” but Hannah won’t let him go any further, as she exclaims that she, too, made a mistake. She says that she “freaked out” and left and tried to punish him by not returning his calls, but that she’s very sorry for all that, “because the only thing I know for sure in my life is that I love you. And I don’t ever want to lose you.” And this is where Bright’s initial plans fly right off the rails. He sincerely replies that he doesn’t want that, either, and Hannah insists they can make the relationship work, as long as they’re “totally honest with each other from now on, about everything.” Um. Hannah concludes that the two days she spent not talking to Bright were the worst of her life, and all she wants is to “pretend it never happened.” This is a sentiment with which Bright can most certainly agree, and as they hug, he offers a couple of “Me, too”s and...well, continues to look ill. You may as well get used to this, because it’s sort of de rigeur for the rest of the series, unless he’s looking pathetic.

Next time: Everwood is the universe’s right-hand of fate, and accounts are comin’ due for Harold, Reid, and Bright.

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.