Joan of Arcadia
The Gift

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La Vie En Rove

Joan walks through the lobby as she leaves the hotel, running into KittyGod --literally. KittyGod: "So you know what to give him." Joan's pissed: "Do you know what I was planning on doing when I went up there?" KittyGod calmly reminds her, "I know everything." Joan: "Then how could you let it go that far? I'm sure you've seen the latest polls on teenage sex." KittyGod: "You're always faced with difficult decisions. I can't make your choices for you. I'm really committed to the free will thing." Could you remind some of your disciples, please? Joan says evenly, "That's a cop-out, if you ask me." She walks past KittyGod, who points out that if Joan hadn't gone in there, she wouldn't have found out what Adam needs. Joan replies, "Adam needs to have faith in himself. That's your department, isn't it?" KittyGod tells her, "No. It's yours. Faith is believing when there's no rational reason to believe. Like your seeing me…who would believe that's rational? Yet you know that it's true. You're the one who has faith, Joan. Find a way to give a little to Adam." KittyGod strides off.

Will looks out the living room window just before Joan comes in: "Hey, you guys are here! Good." She makes a beeline for some books. Helen's on the couch: "Yes, um…we're wondering where you've been. You didn't call." Joan says she was with Adam, and starts asking for the name of some French artist as she flips through a big art book. Will says they tried her cell phone. Joan says she turned it off. Helen wants to know why. She says she didn't want to be disturbed. Will says they called Adam's house, and his dad told them Adam was at work: "At some…hotel?" As Joan keeps wandering around looking through books, they pull the story out of her. She says they were studying. Helen: "You were with Adam…at a hotel?" Will wants to know where in the hotel. Joan, absently: "In a room. Mom, I really need to know about this French artist." Helen and Will have exchanged concerned glances. Will: "You were alone in a hotel room with Adam?" Joan, with a dollop of "duh" in her tone: "He was shampooing the rug." Will and Helen look at each other, wondering if this is some new euphemism they haven't yet heard. Joan: "This artist, he had no money…he somehow made it to Paris and then became really successful…" Helen: "So I thought -- I thought you were studying…" Will: "You don't have any school books." Nothing gets past Detective Girardi. Except, you know, his wife's and son's deepest needs. "So what were you doing in a hotel room with Adam and no books?"

Joan looks at their questioning faces and finally twigs to her parents' concern. She closes the book she's looking and asks, "Do we really have to go there?" Will: "We're already there." Joan, indignantly, "Do you really think --" Helen: "What do you think we think?" Will: "Of course we think! What would you think?" Joan: "Is this a real conversation, or an Abbott and Costello routine?" Frink: "How does she know about Abbott and Costello?" Good question. I can only assume she's had some old black and white comedy forced on her by good old Dad. Or maybe, as some readers suggested, she picked it up from a mention on Seinfeld. Will tells her to answer the question; she starts to talk, and Will interjects: "No. Wait. Don't." He paces around, and Helen tells them to take a breath and sit down. Joan does, Will doesn't. Helen begins, "Look, honey, we know you and Adam are close, right?" Joan: "Yes." She clears her throat excessively and looks down. "I -- I love him." Helen looks more surprised than I would have thought; Will takes a step or two forward and asks, "You love him?" Joan confirms this. Helen points out they were alone together in a hotel room: "And you love him." Will: "And he was shampooing the rug." It's not a euphemism, Will. Chill. He adds, "I'm a cop, Joan. This is when I start reading you your rights." Helen suggests she should talk to Joan alone. He gets up to leave, and leans down: "Remember when I took you on a pony ride?" Helen, with exasperation: "Will." Will: "Okay. I'll be upstairs if you need me." Frink: "'Cleaning and polishing my gun.'"

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Joan of Arcadia

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