Joan: "Mom, I really need to know who this artist was…" Helen thinks they should first deal with what happened tonight. Joan says she's trying to. Helen: "Good. Because…when two people…have feelings for one another, there are natural impulses…" Joan: "Mom…" Helen: "Let me finish!" Joan: "No! Because you're going to start crying and quoting songs." Helen looks like she can't argue with that. Joan sighs: "I did not have sex with Adam." Helen: "Are you sure?" Joan: "Yes! I took health class. I'm pretty sure. I mean…I thought about it…" That wipes the look of relief right off her mother's face: "You did?" Joan says she was going to, but then she realized that she was really only meant to find out what Adam needed from her. Helen: "And it wasn't sex?" Joan: "No." Helen: "Adam is such a nice boy." Hee. She delivers the line perfectly. Joan says he's going through a lot right now: "Which is why I have to know who this French guy was!" Helen says she's going to have to narrow it down to more than "French guy." Joan: "Poor artist, Paris, sculptor…" Helen: "Rodin." Joan: "You mean The Thinker guy, right?" Helen confirms it. Joan's very happy: "Thank you. That's all I needed." Helen's confused: "Wait, wait, that's it? If you'd…asked me that earlier…you wouldn't have thought about having sex?" Joan thinks for a moment: "Oh. No." She laughs. "That still would have happened. Thanks, Mom!" She takes off. Helen looks tired.
Helen makes her way upstairs to where Will's sitting hunched forward on the end of the bed with his chin resting on his fists -- vaguely Thinker-like. Heh. When he sees her, he asks, "Who won?" She tells him, "We did. She thought about it but she didn't sleep with him." Will: "And we believe that?" Helen wonders what choice they have. Will says they could tell her she's not allowed to see him anymore. Helen: "Ah, the West Side Story strategy. Yeah, that always turns out great." Will: "Well, she thought about it. Aren't we supposed to do something?" Helen: "We've already done it." Will: "What was that, exactly?" Helen: "Been her parents." Will, skeptically: "So basically, you're saying we go on faith that we've raised her right?" Helen: "Yeah." Will says she's asking an awful lot. She smiles and puts her arm around him. Will looks pretty unsettled about this alleged resolution.
Adam's on the roof, waiting for Joan. She arrives, wearing flats, black capris, and a pinkish-red cardigan over a blouse with a white and pinkish-red print. Adam says he thought she wasn't gonna make it again. She says, as she sits next to him, "I was finishing this…for you." She hands him a framed black and white picture and tells him it's Rodin. There's also a woman in the picture. I don't think that's a real picture, is it? Or even a reproduction thereof? In the first glimpse we see of it, it kind of makes me think of Adam Goldberg and Amber Tamblyn at a costume party. She tells Adam, "He was a sculptor, like you. He had to support his family by being a bricklayer. And this is his, um, his girlfriend, Rose." You know, between the fact that Adam Rove and August Rodin share initials (along with a few other characteristics), and the whole Adam/Joan/Iris thing (though it doesn't exactly parallel the Auguste Rodin/Rose Beuret/Camille Claudel thing), I'm starting to think these things aren't exactly coincidences. She smiles at Adam, who doesn't seem to know what to make of this gift. Joan adds, "His house in Paris is a museum now. It's filled with all the stuff that he made." Adam says softly with watery eyes, "I'm not Rodin, Jane." Joan replies, "No…you're Adam Rove." I can't help but hear Dustin Hoffman saying "You are Lisa Simpson." Sorry, I know: back to the schmoop. She continues, "And you have what you asked for: something real you can hold in your hands. And it doesn't have to make sense, you know? We don't." Adam's pretty much speechless. Joan: "That doesn't mean it's not real." Joan looks incredibly angelic, as she sometimes can.