Nathan and Haley hit the books back at his house. Nathan stares off into space. Haley asks him if he's still in denial. She's wearing a tea cozy my grandmother would have put over her kettle. It's this strange-looking afghan shawl, something she would have found at a thrift store. Kudos to Haley for being one of those girls who shops at thrift stores, but wow, knitted daisies aren't really the cutting edge of fashion, especially when you wear a blue t-shirt underneath. Anyway. Nathan replies, "About what?" Actually, it also kind of looks like the skirts of those dolls my grandmother would knit to put over her extra rolls of toilet paper. You know, those things that hospital craft sales are always selling. She says, "About missing her. It's okay if you do." Oh, and didn't we just see Nathan in the gym? How'd he get here so fast? He asks, "What are you, my tutor or my shrink?" Haley says, "Whatever you need." The after-school confessional begins. This whole episode has been about emotional development -- Peyton's mom, Haley's honour, and Luke's relationship with his name. The same cannot be said for Dan; he's about as open to growing emotionally as he is to accepting Luke as his son. So, Nathan tells Haley how poorly he's treated Peyton. He says that it's all his fault, but that he wishes he had another chance. Again, I can't tell if he's genuine or if it's all a ploy to get Haley's sympathy. She says, "Nice work!" He whines, "That was the truth." Haley laughs, "No. On your practice exam, 81." She gets up to leave. Nathan says, "You know, it's funny. I think we've talked more than Peyton and I ever did." The afghan flows around her like a pool of water. Haley quips, "Peyton and I, good job." Then she pats Nathan on the shoulder and leaves the room, only he watches her from behind sort of like how Luke watches Peyton. He asks her if she's coming to the game. Haley says that it depends on how well he does on his exam. If he gets anything less than an A, she's staying home and watching The Office. See, that's another shout-out, because I work for BBC Canada too. I'm telling you, the WB and me have some sort of work-related symbiosis. Nathan says, "Haley. I know this hasn't been easy for you. I just wanted to say thanks." Haley wishes him good luck and then flies out of the room on the magic afghan that swirls around her neck.
Whitey and Peyton walk across a bridge. They're just talking, quietly and nicely. He starts off by saying something about how his wife wouldn't let him smoke cigars in the house. It's a sweet anecdote. Peyton asks him how long he's been coaching basketball. Woda replies, "Too long." She asks, "Do you ever wonder about it?" What? "Knowing you spent your whole life watching boys play a game." Woda chuckles. "I'd prefer to think that I was teaching them to play." They stand and look out across the water. How do they get rid of the bugs? How come no one's ever swatting any bugs on television unless it's for some running gag? Anyway. Peyton's got my sympathy, but man, could her delivery be any more forced? It's like every word has to be ripped from her lips because they've sewn her mouth shut or something. Whitey: "Sometimes I think about the conversations I missed with my wife. The holidays I missed because I was off coaching somewhere. That's the closest I get to thinking it was a mistake." At least Peyton can get up and put on her orange lipstick while she's in mourning. Man, that's an awful colour. She asks, "Do you miss her?" Whitey says, "Every day." Pause. "Peyton, it's hard to lose somebody. I spend a lot of time searching for reasons or answers. But you can't find what's not there." We should start keeping track of these Woda-isms, put them all in a book, and call it Life According to Woda: Lessons in Everyday Living. We'll market it to tortured teens and troubled parents. Then we'll donate all the proceeds to charity. She asks if he's going to light the cigar he's been carrying around all day. He says no, he hasn't smoked one since he lost Camilla. He changes the subject back again: "I don't suppose I've been much help to you, but I do know one thing. Your mother's proud of you." Her eyes well up with tears as Whitey walks away. Aw, shucks, so do mine -- damn you, Whitey. Damn you!