Graham carries an armload of toys and books up the stunning Craftsman-style staircase of the house, yelling that someone left so many lights on downstairs. A door closes, and Angela steps out into the hallway, having apparently just emerged from the shower, wrapped only in a towel. Graham gets all fidgety and nervous at the sight of his daughter's sudden womanliness, and they awkwardly try to get past each other. The camera switches between each character's perspective. Angela tells Graham that Danielle leaves the lights on because she's afraid of the dark. Graham, still flustered, squeaks, "Well, good! Okay." Angela strolls on down the hall and, watching her go, the unnerved Graham drops his armload of stuff. Angela, still clad only in a towel and birthday suit, watches, and AVO says, "My dad and I used to be pretty tight." Graham struggles in vain to regain his composure, but Angela's defiant teen flesh prevents him, and he manages only to stammer, "How's school?" She says, "I'm starting to like Anne Frank." Graham nods, "Uh huh? Is she a sophomore too?" Angela reminds him that Anne Frank is dead, and he sadly nods, "Oh, right. Yeah." Angela bursts out laughing: "Anne Frank, Dad!" Graham squeaks some more, and Angela's face falls, and he tells her not to stay up too late, and hurries off. AVO fills us in: "The sad truth is, my breasts have come between us."
Patty and Graham sit in bed, reading. Graham implores Patty, "Tell her not to walk around in a towel, okay?" Slowly, and teasingly, Patty says, "You can tell her." Graham says, "No, I can't. If I could tell her, I would tell her. You tell her. Or -- get her a bigger towel." Patty ignores him, and refers to an item in her magazine about Chelsea Clinton: "No freedom, no privacy, constant surveillance, Secret Service men. That's what we need." Graham snorts, and then kisses Patty's shoulder and notes, "It could be a lot worse." So true, and that's what I always tried to tell my parents when they'd rank on me for forgetting to empty the lint trap on the dryer. But I digress. Graham kisses Patty, and goes on, "She could be cutting class. Doing drugs. Having sex. Like we did." He kisses her cheek again, and she smirks, "I never cut class. And you never had sex in high school. You know, I know why she did it. She did it to get me to react." Graham says, "Maybe she just did it to do it." Patty repeats, "No, she did it to get a reaction." Graham points out the obvious: "Well, then, don't react!" "I'm not! I won't," Patty snaps. She settles back and muses, "It's just so hard to look at her. She looks like a stranger."