Abby and Big Ears talk casually as she heads to the group session that day. She more or less confesses to flunking the boards the first time, and he jokingly tells her to write down "TB" if it's offered as an answer, because TB is usually right. I'm going to remember that next time I play Trivial Pursuit. ["Other good go-to Trivial Pursuit answers: Cassius Clay, David Niven, and Hitler. Trust me. Oh, and volcano questions are always about Krakatoa." -- Wing Chun] Abby enters the room and sits down in front of all the wackos we saw last week, plus Flasher, who's evidently joined the group in light of his affinity for exposing his extracurriculars to kilted schoolgirls. "I was over-sexualized at a young age," he insists. Abby notices that they're down their requisite suicidal guy, and Stanley -- the argumentative one with heavy eyeliner -- tsks that poor Suicidal Larry wasn't just all talk. "He took pills, drank a bottle of gin, slit his wrists, and jumped into Lake Michigan," he sighs, with all the grief of someone who's just frayed the business end of his shoelace so much that it's hard to feed through the holes -- thus damning his laces to a lifetime of annoying, stunted, accursed semi-usefulness, waiting to be replaced. I think that's also what it feels like to be Nick Lachey. Or a member of Menudo. "Larry really wanted to be dead," observes one girl sympathetically. Abby is taken aback that she's lost a patient already. "Don't worry, dear, you're really very good at this," another woman says soothingly. Hee. Everyone assures her that they love Abby's sessions. "Everybody but Larry," Eyeliner clarifies cheerfully. We smash to the credits wondering why the hell JetBlue wouldn't yank my luggage from my scheduled flight so that I could fly standby on the one that's boarding right this second in front of my angry, wan face. I suppose some of that wasn't apparent from the scene or interpretable from the subtext, but I assure you, it's all there.
In her apartment, Kerry is frantically making travel arrangements for herself and Henry, while trying to pack her belongings. Clearly, Kerry and Sandy never went to the movies during their courtship, or she'd know that going on the lam with a kid always results in heartbreak, because someone hot but sympathetic will find you and, despite really feeling for you, will return the kid anyway. That is, if the child's wisdom beyond his or her years doesn't prompt you to do it first. A knock on the door interrupts her plans, and Kerry answers it, because the first thing you do when you're trying to skip town is get the door. It's Elizabeth, chirpily -- for her -- lugging in a box of Ella's old clothes that are apparently gender non-specific. Elizabeth is wearing a gorgeous lavender coat that I covet mightily and greedily. Poor Henry. No longer the cutest thing in the scene. Elizabeth rattles off a list of what she brought, but trails off when she notices the telltale signs of an escape-in-progress: namely, mess and suitcases. And a passport, which shoots to hell Kerry's feeble lie that she's going to visit a cardiologist friend in Seattle. "I...lost my license..." Kerry stammers pathetically. She then curtly thanks Elizabeth in an effort to get her out, but Elizabeth cautiously tells Kerry that she's concerned. "Don't do anything that you might regret later," Elizabeth warns. "Thank you for the clothes," Weaver says robotically. No, she said don't do anything you'll regret later --- those are last season's styles, Kerry! Last season! STEP AWAY from the hand-me-downs!