Ski lodge. Joey sulks at a picnic table beside the skating rink; Jack approaches and asks if it's just him, or if the lodge has a strong eighties-John-Hughes vibe. Oh god, not John Hughes again. Blabber about tackiness, "nostalgia for a time we never really experienced," fillercakes. Joey admits that she's "just in a funk." Huh? Did they have to pad the running time or something? Jack, in tight close-up: "What's your problem?" Heh. Don't get me started, honey. "Sex is my problem," Joey mumbles. "Sex is always my problem." Yes, clearly. Joey explains that she has "so much conviction about waiting until the right moment, not feeling guilty or obligated -- and I don't!" Jack nods, then asks her if she's ever considered that there isn't a "right" choice here, or a "wrong" choice, just "a bunch of choices." She thinks that over, then whimpers, "You're a real help." Jack squints at her and says that "there's nothing to figure out here -- it's only what you feel." "Well, I feel fear." Yeah. WE KNOW. Jack philosophizes that "the only really exciting things in life require more courage than we currently have," and we have to make a leap of faith, and "the kind of fear that [Joey's] talking about" is sometimes the only way we know what's worthwhile. That's not bad advice, but I can see Joey not finding it terribly helpful. Joey's face melts some more.

Mr. Brooks's bedside. Dawson slumbers in a chair next to the bed as -- oh, for the love of Matlock, it's Andy Griffith. Dawson wakes up and recognizes him as the guy who stole Mr. Brooks's one true love. There's some confusion regarding Dawson's relationship to Mr. Brooks. Andy says that Mr. Brooks wrote him a letter last month asking "for forgiveness," but "the only person he ever hurt was himself," and he thought about calling after Ellie died, but didn't, because he realized "how much greater [Mr. Brooks's] hurt would be than" his own and how he had Ellie and three kids and blah blippety blee, but Mr. Brooks would always have "that part of your soul you give your first love." Could we stop it with the first-love fooferaw? Please? Andy adds that, when Mr. Brooks goes, "he'll be with her. I suppose that's the way it…should have always been." Then Andy thanks Mr. Brooks for writing, and for waiting until he could say goodbye. All the teeth in my head rot and fall out. Andy starts to leave, but Dawson stops him, saying he doesn't know what to do. Andy says that what's "required -- is a little faith." Dawson blurts out that he doesn't have that; in fact, he doesn't know what that means. "Faith is believing in something when common sense tells you not to," Andy homilies, and refers to Miracle On 34th Street, saying that Mr. Brooks believed he could find the answers to life's questions in the movies: "Crazy idea, huh?" "Not so crazy," Dawson smiles smugly, and as I slip into a diabetic coma, Andy leaves and takes the sad piano with him, and Dawson folds his arms and mulls.