The El train arrives. "I'm a pro at walking away," Abby says. "I've done it one million times and I'm asking you, please, don't do this. Stay here and talk to me. Please! Please." Cut to the train pulling away. When it's gone, we see Abby standing alone at the platform, leaning against a pole. She's still for a second, then kicks her heels petulantly against the platform. Depressed and defeated, she shuffles away.
Back inside the hospital, Luka tells Ho Mommy that a transplant is only a last resort for Marlene. "I should call my husband," Ho Mommy weeps. Luka offers her a phone, then lingers behind her, biting his lip. It tastes like tragedy. Ho Mommy turns and flashes him a snooty stare. "I'm sorry, could I have some privacy, please?" she says coldly.
Abby, back inside with her hair slowly drying, is with Marlene, who's cracking gallows-humor jokes about her last meal. The answer is pizza. Marlene clearly needs to get out more and sample the edible wares of the world. Abby dumbs down an explanation of the kidney trouble she's having and how they'll fix it. "How'd I get like this?" Marlene wonders. Abby shrugs that it's probably a DNA thing, some kind of genetic cocktail that went sour. "Maybe that's why," Marlene reasons. "They had a fight one night and my Dad left. He never told me why. They just gave up." Abby nods. Marlene figures her parents erred. "Maybe the reason I'm sick is so I can bring them back together," she says, a light of hope flickering in her eyes. Abby doesn't have the heart to tell her that tragedy isn't crazy glue -- it won't permanently mend a broken home. But Marlene's off to the races already, betting that her disease could fix everything. Is she on drugs? Should they be giving her morphine yet? I'm all for dealing with death in a positive light, but oh man, don't be so freakin' well-adjusted, and don't use this to make your parents screw. Not nice. Abby smiles at her anyway, because Abby probably isn't listening.
Susan carries the Phallic Cactus of Sass into the doctors' lounge, where Weaver is preparing to leave. "Glad to see Romano hasn't lost his sense of humor," she offers. Weaver curtly orders her to keep tabs on Abby's performance as nurse manager, rambles about scheduling stuff, and generally bores everyone. Susan gently asks if Kerry is okay. "Look, I made a small mistake on a TV program," Weaver snaps. "I wish everyone would get over it." Um, you made two people share a needle. Small mistake? Whatever. Just because Romano's gone and all the other bigwigs are recurring, Weaver can get away with a blunder like that? Right. Susan clarifies what she really meant: the syringe incident in the bathroom. Weaver's all, "What? No," just the picture of innocence, which is really funny to me considering how obviously busted she was at the time. "I know what I saw," Susan insists. Weaver gulps nervously. "I'm taking hormones," she blurts. "Good night." She leaves stiffly; Susan stares after her, stunned.