Later that night, Julie's in bed reading when her mom comes in and sort of lies next to her. Tami tells her that she does want Julie to come to church with her because it makes her feel like family and she likes how Julie sits next to her. Tami tells her daughter that she thinks it's good that she's questioning her faith, that she just wants her to have faith in something, "something that can hold you, when I'm not gonna be able to hold you anymore." Tami sinks down to spoon her daughter and tells her that she's sorry, but she's always going to be her little girl. Julie's obviously got other things on her mind. What I have on my mind is that this is another Tami Taylor parenting moment that I need to bookmark for future consultation. God, this woman is THE BEST!
Matt walks into Richard's shed, preparing to yell at him. He can't find him at first, and looks around the moonlit studio a bit, looking up and seeing a finished sculpture Richard's been working on -- some kind of angelic figure hung up near the ceiling. The camera gives us shots of the work's beautiful texture, its thick hands and hammered skin, but mainly it's the soundtrack that tells us this is "art" for Matt. Interrupting his reverie, Richard lets out a snore from the corner where he's passed out. Richard says the thing Matt is looking at is a piece of crap, but Matt tells him that it's a beautiful piece of crap. Oh, dear. Not only do I find this story line kind of boring, but I also find it totally ideologically enraging! Bad combo there.
Tami gets into bed next to Coach, who, lying with his eyes closed, tells her that he'll get the money together somehow. She's not worried, they turn the lights out and Tami tells him he should feel pretty good about getting all the way through a game, he should be able to sleep better now. Close on Coach's face, eyes looking into the darkness, unworried sleep still far away from him.
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