Birthday dinner. Stockard is passing the Brussels sprouts. I don't know why, but serving Brussels sprouts at her son's birthday party seems like a very un-Stockard thing to do. Maggie arrives and gives Jack a kiss on the cheek. Stockard raises her eyebrows just the teeniest bit as that happens, and takes a swallow of wine. Jack V.O.: "That Maggie did that, in front of everyone, was rather impressive. I was also hoping that Mrs. Berka was just a teeny bit jealous." And, in fact, the perv looks a little bit flustered. Jack opens his presents, including a sweater that Mrs. Berka knitted for him. He puts it on immediately, relishing the sensual embrace of the wool.
Jack walks down the street, wearing his new sweater and dribbling a basketball, giving us his final V.O. "I walked through the night alone, Jack singular." So that would be Just Jack, then? (Come on, I've been waiting forever to make that joke.) "I'd always be my mother's Jack and my father's Jack and the Jack with the gay dad and [the] Bob, and Michael and Max and Mrs. B. I'd always be all that, but more than that, I was myself. Jack, no strings attached. Whatever my family was or wasn't seemed to be getting less important now. My life was my own now, and my job was to make it what I wanted it to be. I only wish I'd known that a couple of years ago. I was Jack, plain Jack, Jack out there all by myself." Plain Jack, out there all by himself, arrives at a basketball court which apparently has coin-operated spotlights for night play. He dribbles the ball around the court, giving himself the typical self-adulatory sportscaster V.O. that we're all familiar with. At the end, he makes a mighty three-point shot, and V.O.s that "everything would be okay."