Over at Villa Valium (a.k.a. Mark's and Elizabeth's house), Elizabeth "Up the Spout" Corday is looking through the kitchen cupboards for the Tylenol, and Mark "Dizzy Gillespie" Greene tells her there isn't any left. Blah did you put it on the blah list blah domestic blah bling blah. She asks him reproachfully whether his neck is "still" bothering him (his neck was bothering him? Whatever), and he tells her that he knows the cure is "no more hockey games." He sets a plate of eggs and ham before her on the island (nice island), and she looks down at the plate and nauseatedly tells him that she's "just not hungry." He cheerfully takes her plate for himself and tells her that she should have an appetite later that night, when he'll be "grilling filet mignon and baking potatoes." Dude. I still haven't had lunch. Don't hurt me like that. She expresses surprise that he won't be cooking all the usual Thanksgiving fare, and he reminds her, "We did that last year." The doorbell rings and she goes to get it, continuing to list the Thanksgiving foods they won't be having. Elizabeth? If you're that psyched about a turkey dinner with all the trimmings -- and, believe me, I feel you -- go to Boston Market, already. She opens the door and a dude shivering in his coat asks, "Dr. Elizabeth Corday?" She tells him it is she, and he hands her an envelope, wishing her a happy Thanksgiving. Mark asks her what it is, and she says it's "some sort of letter. It says, 'Notice to the defendant.' Oh my god, I'm being sued for malpractice!" Wah wah. Who knew that a nation founded by convicts could be so litigious?
Elsewhere, Abby "Lisa" Lockhart drives her mother, Maggie "Sally" Wyczenski, through the rain in an SUV that's...all...red inside? What the --? It's like a hard plastic suitcase from the '60s -- and not in a good way. Sally keeps shooting Lisa these anxious glances, and plays at her lips like she's about to say something, and then doesn't; Lisa studiously ignores her. Sally finally busts out, "I'll keep taking my medication. I...I won't be a burden." Lisa has no response but to drum her fingers on the steering wheel. Sally begs, "At least let me stay through the weekend." This plea is also met with stony silence. Sally blurts, a mile a minute, "I can't go back I lost my job at the department store your brother's not even talking to me." We get a shot of Lisa's SUV (red on the outside, as well) pulling up beside the Greyhound station, and then cut back inside in time to hear Sally volley, "You can't throw me out, I'm your mother!" Okay, I know you don't get along, but you drive an SUV and you can't put your mother on a plane? Please. With a detachment that makes it clear she's pretending she's been deaf throughout the car ride, Lisa chirps, "I put the bus ticket and some money in your purse. And, uh, you'll have to find a job as soon as you get there!" Sally, her face melting, tells Lisa that, being in Chicago a week, she's seen how hard things are for Lisa, and that she can't in good conscience leave Lisa alone. Lisa looks down and then back up, wearily smirking, "We've been through this." Sally, desperate, raises her voice a little: "I just want to be here for you!" Lisa actually leans over Sally to open the passenger door and curtly says, "I have to go." She places a balled-up warm-weather-weight trench coat in Sally's lap and tells Sally to take it. The door hanging open, Sally tells Lisa, "I love you." Lisa looks down again, and doesn't reply. Sally gathers her things and hops out, teetering on the rainy sidewalk in some totally inappropriate platform mules. The door closes, and Lisa takes a short moment to collect herself before putting the truck in gear and pulling away from the curb. Sally tents the coat over her head and flatly repeats, to the departing truck, "I love you."