"Well, it probably doesn't help that I'm shoving checks in your purse and telling you to get MRIs and generally... Looking the other way, but honestly Jacks, you're an adult and you're my favorite reason for coming to work. I check the nursing schedule to coordinate my shifts with yours." Which is more words than what Kevin usually says, but is essentially what Kevin would say. And Eddie, too. Eleanor thinks about it for a while, and decides they're okay. It's not like either of them are used to having relationships where that much trust comes into it. Why would they? This thing with the money and the MRIs was just a line getting crossed, and now they both know better.

Eleanor suggests they head to the front and light some candles, but Jackie's not quite ready for that. Make me good, Lord, but not yet. She still believes a bit too much in prayer and service to actually bend her knees, as a joke or otherwise. "You're really awful," Eleanor pinches at her, and Jackie beams adorably: "That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

But she doesn't really believe it. Or rather, she believes it but she doesn't expect anybody to ever really believe it. And she only believes it half the time. I don't know that AA is for everybody but I think the God thing is a really dumb reason to blow it off. I don't really believe in God but I mean, when you're in that kind of pain you are God. Nobody matters, nobody even exists, except for you. And I think the main value of prayer, the idea of prayer, is that occasionally you remind yourself that you are both very small and very big. You are very important/You are not very important. You have God's undivided attention/You are also on your knees.

Jackie's a nurse: She understands service. But the thing in her heart doesn't. The thing crouching in her is the most important thing there is, a tiny king with a tiny kingdom, and the real world is not as real as the world in there. And I mean, we're all like this, it's why people pray, so they can get away from the responsibility of being God for a second. To remember we are small. And to remember that there is something bigger, that loves us more than we can ever properly understand. Kings can't kneel before that.