Nancy's in the upstairs hallway when Esteban approaches, and when he asks if she's okay she stares blankly at nothing. "As I see it, yes. It is certain. It is decidedly so. Most likely. Outlook good. Signs point to yes... Reply hazy, better not tell you now, don't count on it... My reply is no. My sources say no. Outlook not so good." She sighs. "Very doubtful." If she speaks, she'll break. He stands up, looking down, and she shakes her head, with the sound of the waves breaking far away. He heads for the door, and stops, turning. He knows her well.

"What's going to happen in there is not right or wrong. It's not good or bad: It is. It's what happens next," he says, looking into her eyes. She finally looks back. "We chose," he says. "You and I. When we came together, we chose. A life. This life. For you, for me, for our son. There is nothing I will not do to protect that life." Everything seems so simple for him. She stares at him, almost angry: how easy this is, and how insane. He heads into the bedroom, and she sits in the sun.

And later, downstairs, turning the Magic Ball in her hands, Nancy sits. Having listened, you see? Having heard. He pats Ignacio goodbye, and stands behind her where she stares at the ball. She barely jerks when he caresses her arm, her shoulder, comforting her. They go walking on the beach, and she stares at the ball, barely standing, begging it for answers, until he takes it from her hands and throws it over the waves. She watches it go. He holds her tightly and kisses her, first her neck and then her mouth. She likes it, it feels good; she loves him, she hates herself. He drops to his knees, kissing her belly even more passionately, and for a moment she's jealous. Then she just holds onto him, to keep standing. He rests his head against her. Out in the harbor, there are little boats.

All alone in Bubbeh's house, Andy's still wearing the cardigan. His hair is still slicked back. He fixes the last piece of the swing: a safe place, for the baby's head. It's easier as Judah, to make things snap into place. "You're Judah, and I'm me. And you have to love me, and treat me nice." Then it's perfectly assembled: Domestic bliss. And Andy sits, alone, in the middle of it, unmoving.

Give Weeds a Tubey!