And, proving my point, a mouse creeps into Carrie's hair as she sleeps. It wakes her up and she screams and screams. Yay. I mean, "shut up, Carrie."
Carrie calls "the Russian" -- to come over and kill the thing, presumably. He stuffs steel wool into the mouse-holes, and she thanks him. He says he wasn't expecting to hear from her. Yeah, she was mad. And now she needs him "to not talk" so she can "say this" without him "confusing" her. Sam is her friend, family, her "insides." Sam "has to be fine," and for the Russian to tell Carrie otherwise feels "hurtful and really unnecessary." Alek begins, "My friend who died," and Carrie claps her hands to her face and falls onto the bed, saying, "Oh, my god!" Jesus, Carrie. Let him talk about his experience. Give him the same privilege of listening that he gave to you. He says he was "surprised" when his friend died. There was so much pain. He didn't want Carrie to be surprised. She says he could have said that. Really? When? You kept cutting him off. You didn't want to hear it. Carrie says she needs her relationships "with a little bit of milk." Yeah, or watered down. Or just plain whatever you want them to be, when you want them to be. Alek says Sam will be fine. Carrie thanks him, and says she's sorry about Sophie. He says, "Thank you." They embrace, and she VOs that for the first time, they spoke the same language. Yes, the language of surface-y niceties. How very meh.
The four girls drink Manhattans together. Sam has a crazy bedazzled scarf on. Dior, my dear. Mir drinks to moving to Brooklyn. She can't believe it! All the girls will come visit, right? Carrie snorts, "Now who's in denial!" Sam would, but she has cancer. And Char bubbles, "Of course we will!" Sigh. Another round of Manhattans, and Mir starts reminiscing about crappy old apartments she had in the greatest borough of the only city in the world. Ah, good times. Mir says, "Why do I think living in Manhattan is so fantastic?" Carrie says matter-of-factly, "Because it is." Say it with me: SHUT UP, CARRIE!