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Still
deep — Bette is reading the Langston
Hughes poem again.
Kit:
"What is that?"
Bette: "It's Daddy's favorite
poem. Didn't he ever read it to you?"
Kit: "No. And thank God,
'cause that's one dull-ass poem."
I
love the way Kit says that under her breath and the
way Bette half-grins with a big love for her big sis.
Melvin
starts to call for his mama. Gah.
Bette
and Kit sing Rusty
Old Halo, just like sisters would, and they cry,
and I'll admit I get a little verklempt. Goddammit.
Please,
god, no — Dana arrives at the Howling
Coyote as Jenny is announced as "The Yeshiva
Girl."
Dana:
"Hey."
Shane: "Hey."
Dana: "I feel like I'm
in hell. What is this place?"
Shane: "It's Jenny."
Yeah,
unfortunately, it is. That's right, Jenny, take your
troubled past and your profound history and reduce
them to this ridiculous act of stripping in front
of a crowd of brutes. I know you think it's about
control or power or whatever the fuck, but I'm telling
you it's a nightmare, and I still wish I could whisk
you away and shelter you from all this. Including
the deranged klezmer version of the theme song.
Also,
if you're gonna strip, try to tantalize a little,
okay? There's no method to your madness.
Meanwhile,
Alice has thrown herself on Dana's bed, thinking that
Dana is still with Lara. Ack. Dana finds her there:
Dana:
"Alice, what happened?"
Alice: "I was calling
your phone; you weren't answering. Where were you?"
Dana: "I was there. Where
were you?"
Alice: [pausing, stuttering] "I...
I thought I lost you."
Dana: "I'm right here.
[whispering] I'm right here."
The
morning after — Mark is doing something
with eggs.
Jenny:
"That smells good."
Mark: "Thanks."
Jenny: "May I have one?"
Mark: "Of course."
Jenny: "Thank you."
Again,
I am beside myself, because I like Mark a lot more
than I like Jenny right now.
A
different bed — Tina's sleeping and
pregnant and naked, but I don't think she's in Bette's
bed this time. Well, wherever she is, I'm certainly
delighted with the abundance of her glory. Amen.
Time
— Bette makes some tea and hums Rusty
Old Halo while Melvin groans in the background. He
looks at the picture of Bette and Tina on his nightstand,
and then the groaning stops and the humming stops
and Melvin is gone.
Bette
calls for Kit, and then they both keen for their father,
each in her own way. Jennifer Beals and Pam Grier
offer an authentic, profound portrayal of grief, the
likes of which I've never seen on my TV and don't
expect to see again.
NEXT WEEK ON THE L WORD: L
is for labor. Tina's labor, my labor, every viewer's
labor in getting through this helenish/hellish season.
The one good thing? Heart.
Right on. See them live before you die, and e-mail
me if you have front row seats for their show
at the Orange
County Fair.
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