Up in the Claire, Lawyer Ted's trying to sober up his girlfriend with a liter bottle of Evian. He's going to regret arming her like that in a minute. Claire takes a mighty swig, then asks for her keys back, because she's all sober now. Sober as a judge, in fact. Assuming that judge is fucking blotto. Ted declines to let Claire drive anywhere, so she decides to start in with another volley of mean-spirited non-sequiturs. "I just never thought I'd know a guy named Ted," she says. "Such a '70s name." Rather than pointing out that that's where he got it, or that the '70s are hip now, Ted just mumbles, "Funny." But he's still not giving back her keys. He drops them into his shirt pocket instead. Frustrated, Claire flings the remainder of the Evian all over his suit and tie. "I don't want you here. I don't even like you. You are a fascist, Republican asshole and the fact that I ever even liked you in the first place is total proof that I am fucked up about my life!" Ted stands and takes it until she screams at him to get out. He hesitates, then heads out, shakily telling her he'll bring back her keys the next day. I guess he'll have Ruth call him a cab or something. Unless he just loaded his car into the back of Claire's. Alone, Claire gets a beer out of her dorm fridge and a spare set of keys out of her junk drawer. Something tells me Ted isn't going to have the foresight to let the air out of her tires. Or, if he does, it won't be because of foresight.
Brenda steps on to one of those ridiculously deep hospital elevators that are designed to accommodate a gurney or two, and walks all the way to the far end. As the car goes into motion, Late Nate, Jr.'s voice tells her her big mistake was not marrying Billy. "That's not even funny," Brenda growls. Nate's standing in the elevator with her, claiming that he was just a substitute for Billy. He says Brenda's not to blame: "You were raised to be impaired. You were grown wrong, like one of those square watermelons they cultivate in Japan." Leave it to Nate to learn about world cultures from watching The Simpsons. Which I know is what happened, because that's what I did, too. Meanwhile he's giving her these faux-sympathetic puppy dog eyes that make me want to poke one of them out with a pickle fork. Brenda tries to turn it around by saying Nate can't feel anything for anybody he isn't fucking (and frequently not even then, I'd be the first to add), but he exhorts her to pack up and run away with Billy to Nova Scotia. "You can live together, you can love each other, you can fuck." "I am so glad you're dead," Brenda channels, walking past him to the control panel. Nate tells her back that he's pretty sure that Arnold Schwarzenegger and Maria Shriver are siblings, "and they're making it work." Brenda tells Nate to shut the fuck up and stands right in front of the doors, desperately waiting for them to open already. Nate appears rightupinherface, calmly insisting, "I'm just saying, you only get one life. There's no God, no judgements, except for those you accept or create for yourself. And once it's over, it's over. Dreamless sleep forever and ever. So why not be happy while you're here?" Because then when you're gone people will let their psyches conjure up manifestations of you that they can use to try and excuse the darkest impulses of their warped minds? That would be my answer. Finally the elevator doors open, and Nate's gone. That is one tall hospital.