You know what else every girl longs to hear? Her divorce lawyer, calling to say that he can't take her case because he's afraid of her husband. And yet that's exactly what happens to Carmela, and it causes her to throw a full bag of groceries down onto the ground.
Tony, meanwhile, is back in Melfi's office, sadly complaining that when he woke up this morning, his depression was suddenly back full-force. Melfi suggests that this might be because of the divorce, but Tony thinks it comes from somewhere else. He tells her about the golf-course panic attack, and also reveals that it's not the first time he's had an attack recently. "I wish you'd told me," Melfi says. "I wish you'd cured it," he replies. He then traces the origin of the recent attacks back to when she "rebuffed [his] advances," but further questioning reveals that they really began when his cleaning lady was talking about her cousin, who was in a car accident down in Mexico. And then the next one occurred when Cousin Tony came over to borrow some power tools. "Your cousin was at your house?" asks Melfi. "Tony Uncle...whatever?" "Uncle AL," snaps Tony Uncle Johnny. Heh. Melfi puts two and two together and gets Tony, which prompts Fat Tony to realize that his cousin was also involved in the golf-course attack, as well. "He hurt his foot," he explains. Melfi has a hard time believing that Tony was so concerned about Diet Tony's foot that it caused a panic attack. "He's a grown man, isn't he?" she wonders. "Is he in danger of losing the foot?" Hee! "Oh, fuck the foot!" shouts Tony. "It's not his foot! Forget the foot! I worry about him, he's right out of fucking jail, okay?" This, of course, provides a natural segue for him to tell Melfi all about the night of the hijacking. "Why didn't you go?" she asks, when the story is over. "I was jumped by a bunch of [racial epithet deleted]s," he says. "They were trying to take my shoes. I fought them off, by they cut my fucking head open, the cocksucking, motherfucking [seventeen or so racial epithets deleted]s." "Your cousin went to prison," observes Melfi. "That's tremendous guilt to carry." "He went to 'Nam," adds Tony. "I was 4-F. And that's the way our friends look at it...Those seventeen years I did so good. He lost his wife, his daughter...."
Tony is obviously struggling with something profound, because it looks like he's about to have another attack. Melfi calls him on it, and Tony finally explodes with the truth: "The night he got pinched I had a fucking panic attack, all right? From my mother, goddammit. I didn't even know what it was then." Melfi tries to get him to focus and calm down, and eventually, his breathing almost returns to normal. "Black guys," he sighs. "My ass. I had a fight with my mother, and I had a fucking panic attack. Carmela was supposed to come over with some fucking yarn, for some booties my mother was making Meadow. She was late...[Livia] was carrying on. I said to her, 'Carmela loves you. You gotta understand, she's got a three-month-old.' But she kept fucking...she kept going, and I started screaming at her. So I left. I walked out to the door, went over to the car, and boom. I cut my fucking head open." Hmm. Obviously I knew there was more to the whole "Where was Tony that night?" story, but I never would have guessed a panic attack. After the Fran Felstein episode, I just assumed he was with a girlfriend. And yet, there he was, defending Carmela and passing out because of it. Interesting. "And your cousin doesn't know this?" asks Melfi. Tony: "No! I lied! What am I going to tell him? What am I going to tell all of them? I had a fight with my mother and I fainted? That's why I missed the job? Jesus fucking Christ!" "That's a lot to get of your chest," Melfi whispers, much to the delight of the promo monkeys. "I thought I was smart," complains Tony, "and that's why I bumped him up and protected him. Turns out, I'm just a fucking robot to own pussy-ass weakness." Well, who isn't, really? And now that the psychic weight has been lifted from his shoulders, Tony is finally able to indulge in some of that patented introspection we all know and love. "You know, sometimes what happens in here is like taking a shit," he observes. "I prefer to think of it more like childbirth," replies Melfi. "Trust me," he tells her. "It's like taking a shit."