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“Exes & Ohs” recap 208: “Sleepless in Seattle” Season Finale

Previously: Kris and Chris tied the knot at home, with cupcakes and rumba music. Jen asked yet another woman out, prompting Sam to drop a bomb that’s been years in the making: She’s in love with her. But before Jen could stammer a reply, Kris’s water broke. Babies are such attention whores.

It’s a few hours later and Kris is with Chris in their room, still waiting to hear the eerie yet adorable mewing of a newborn. Instead of boiling water, tearing up bed sheets and running around like lunatics, Jen, Sam, Devin, Sheila and Dr. Bob stand around listening to the midwife as she gives Kris some annoying news: the baby is at least 12 hours away.

Chris asks what they can do to get things moving. The midwife recommends relaxing, walking, or eating spicy food. Does this look like the face of a woman who wants to go mall-walking or dive into a bowl of five-alarm chili?

No. This the face of a woman who wants drugs, and wants them now.

With nothing to do but wait, Jen and Sam go home to stare at the ceiling in their respective beds. Not because they’re anxious aunts, but because Sam’s “I want you” still hangs out there like an unfinished bridge to nowhere. Sam throws her cell phone across the room in frustration.

Unable to sleep because of her new unrequited feeling for Jen, Sam gets on her computer, and after checking her Facebook and watching Dramatic Cat on YouTube for the hundredth time, she is seriously checking rates for a backpacking expedition to Nepal.

Most people just write bad poetry, Sam.

As Sam learns about the Himalayas, Jen calls her to talk, but her phone is somewhere on the floor, so she doesn’t hear it buzzing. Meanwhile, Kris is home, demanding something called a Flaming Vesuvius Burrito from the only 24-hour taco stand that names its menu items after Italian volcanoes.

Chris calls Sam to see if she’ll bring over some burritos because what are friends for? Getting her voicemail, she calls Jen, too. There are work friends, casual friends, bar friends and school friends, but the only friends you can call at three in the morning, asking for take-out Mexican, are your real friends.

Jen and Sam run into each other at the taco stand, each having placed the order for Kris.

Jen: Hi.

Sam: Yeah, hi. [silence] I saw you called.

Jen: Oh, that. Yeah, that was nothing.

Sam: Yeah, right. Because you always call people at three in the morning about nothing.

You do if you’re drunk.

When they both arrive at the house, Chris can tell there’s something off between the two besties, who are standing side-by-side like nervous boys at a sixth grade dance. She tells them to get over it or go home; her kid is not going to be born into a “sea of weird vibes.”

After eating her Flaming Vesuvius, Kris calls the midwife to report spicy burritos did nothing to get her hips widening. The midwife tells Kris to try having sex because an orgasm has been known to start contractions. I don’t even want to know how someone figured that out.

But Kris is determined, and Chris is willing, so they task Jen and Sam with assembling baby furniture while they go upstairs to “work.” This is a bad plan, all around. If you put a femme and a nerd in a room with screwdrivers, you’re likely to end up with a lopsided shoe rack. And if you finger bang a lady who’s moments away from birth, the baby will come out wearing your wedding band as a nose ring.

Jen tries to fit the pieces of the furniture together, but she’s as good with hardware as she is with finishing her documentary. Sam reminds her that she was a child Lego’s champion, which qualifies her to be the foreman on this construction project. Jen compliments Sam, but Sam shuts her down, saying, “Relax, Jen. I’m not going to fall apart without your approval.”

Do not poke the bear when she’s holding a sharp instrument.

Better results are happening upstairs, where Chris and Kris have actually kick-started contractions with some good ol’ fashion lady sex. Chris goes into panic mode and runs around the house in her sexy flannel pajamas, screaming, “Where’s the phone?! Phone, phone, phone, phone, phone, phone, phone! Where, where, where, where, where, where, where? Phone, phone? Where, where? Phone?! Where?!”

Oh Megan Cavanagh, how I love you.

After calling the midwife, getting some pillows for Kris, and using a pudding pop or three as a pacifier, Chris has everything under control.

Chris throws Jen and Sam outside, ostensibly to wait for the midwife, but really, to get their Sargasso Sea of weird vibes out of her house. Shivering in the Seattle night air, Jen says it’s funny how things have changed.

Sam: Yeah, I know, right? I used to be the one with all the options. Now, look at you, lady killer. [muttering to herself] Passport…

Jen: Are you going somewhere?

Sam: Nepal, backpacking. I couldn’t sleep earlier, so I found this great deal online…

Jen: For how long?

For someone who’s flat broke and in foreclosure, extended travel seems like an odd financial choice, but Sam’s on the run from her feelings. Airfare and transfers: $1800. Vaccinations and Sherpa gratuity: $450. Emotional vacationing: Priceless.

The midwife arrives and soon, Kris is screaming her head off and Chris is freaking out. Moments later, the baby is born. It’s a boy! Yay. All lesbians should have boys; the world needs more decent men. Have they picked a name yet? Something appropriately ridiculous for today’s trendy baby? Bevel? Alto? Juggernaut or Tutankhamen? You’re welcome.

Swept up in the moment, Jen and Sam find each other’s hands and clasp them tightly. The midwife says gently, “Creating a new and beautiful life can be a hard and ugly process.” True dat. Just ask Marie Shriver.

Auntie Jen and Auntie Sam go downstairs to the kitchen. Sam tells Jen she’s not only going to Nepal, she’s leaving on Sunday. What? That is not nearly enough time to find cute hiking boots and learn how to say, “How much for this pashmina shawl?” and “That goat ate my wallet!” in Nepali. Jen accuses Sam of running, but Sam says she’s not the only one wearing track shoes and storms out of the house. Jen stands alone, letting the words sink in. She bolts from the house, runs across the front lawn and yells, “Sam! I love you! Samantha!”

Jen may be slow, but she’s not stupid enough to let Sam run to her car, let alone Nepal.

It’s early morning and Chris, Kris and TBD are in the family bed having quiet time. Chris says she used to think the hole in her life was shaped like Kris, but now it looks more like Kris, plus one. Kris, plus one, plus a mountain of diapers, toys and Elmo DVD’s. And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Over at Jen’s place, she and Sam are in bed, filling holes of a different nature.

After a short girlfriend stint in college, years of friendship, and gallons of Beever coffee, Jen and Sam have found each other again. Sam sleeps quietly next to Jen, her hair tousled perfectly around her serene face. They stir imperceptivity and open their eyes.

Jen says softly, “Now what?”

Indeed.

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