Barry atones in group, with a speech about how he "let the plane fly [him]" and how if it weren't for Celia taking control of his life for two seconds he'd come to the end of his thirty days and be right back up there, snorting off the dashboard and "jamming blow up my urethra so I could fuck Paula the 57-year-old flight attendant." Wow. Even the most jaded upper-middle-class white person there is like, "Whoa." He apologizes to Celia for freaking out, and everybody claps. Celia Hodes gives a pretty bleak, funny/scary speech about how rehab is like "one big wonderful dysfunctional family" and she loves them. I would love it if this were like day two of her stay at the clinic.
She starts to weep, and not even Celia is capable of admitting how far down the bullshit extends here, or how nakedly honest she's being at the same time: "I have a family, but they're not like you guys..." One of the admins comes to borrow her, and Barry says to hurry back: "Because I need you. Everybody needs you." And as much as I want Celia to hear those words, every day for the rest of her life, because in fact they are the magic words she needs and deserves to hear: she's still broken. It's not time for that yet. So whatever horrible shit is about to happen to her, I'm looking forward to it, because she deserves to actually be fixed.
Celia, of course, has no insurance; drug front employment, even for the five seconds she was employed, is not rife with benefits. And, awesomely, the policy number she gave the clinic belongs to a dead Korean. Celia panics about how it's actually going well, and she's on her second step, and she's ever so "proud of me," and the lady says she shares that pride, built as it is on nothing but empty revolving-door-rehab bullshit talk, but Celia's still going to the actual rehab across town, where people without options or insurance go. Which is exactly where she needs to be. Which she knows, which is why she's panicking and offering to do their dishes or some landscaping, to stay. "Best of luck with your recovery... Vacate within the hour."
Andy comes to Doug's sad little crib to visit; Mermex tells him Doug's gone to get "mouthwash, toilet paper and tweezers." She tells Andy straight up that thinks are freaky-bleak and that Doug is a terrible man. They have a logic fight. Per Maria: Doug is a criminal, thief, who has "abandoned his wife and family and wants to make me his whore." Heh. Andy translates this into white assface language: Doug is a CPA with legal problems who's going through a divorce, and is wildly in love with you. Doug is a box on the hillside, and the things he does are what fills him up. Call it what you like. However, Maria's trump card is Doug's genital warts, for which Andy has no easy euphemism. Doug enters with a gift basket and a headboard, which -- after stiffing the moving guys and telling them not to "start that Mexican shit" when they question his math -- he bumps slowly and rhythmically against the wall. Reciprocity, it's how guys think.