Thanks to Wing, the Biscuit, and all the pundits on the boards.
Lord have mercy on my digestive system. Fade up on the exterior of the No-Fault Hacienda as Joey "I Need To Find Myself. Psych!" Potter and Dawson "Whiny Bunches Of Oats" Leery canoodle their way through the underbrush. A pillar obscures our view, but the lip mics don't leave much to the imagination. As the star-crossed losers (tm the Biscuit) approach the ladder up to the Sanctum Dawsonorum, Joey wonders aloud "if this is a good idea," but Dawson tells her not to analyze it as he tugs on her arm. More kissing. They climb in the window while giggling and kissing some more, and as Dawson clambers in behind Joey and sticks his tongue in her ear, the camera pans over to Jen "Pig Zag Wanderer" Lindley sitting on the bed. Dawson, bummed that he won't get a leg over: "Jen." Joey, concerned: "What's wrong?" Jen, waterlogged and puffy: "Abby and I were on the d -- on the docks, and we were up there and sh -- we were drinking, and then, sh -- she fell back and she hit, hit her head, and she -- she drowned. Abby's dead." Joey comes over and sits down to Jen and puts her arm around her as Jen begins to sob. Dawson looms over both of them, calculating precisely how this tragedy will affect him. Then a jarring cut to the exuberant yowling of the credits.
Winsome scenes of Capeside. Over at Bessie's Penal Colony (formerly "Bessie's Bastard Barn"), Joey looks at old photos of her late mother; a tear rolls down her face. "Big Daddy" Potter comes out on the porch, looks over Joey's shoulder, and says, "Seems like a lifetime ago," with a goofy and inappropriate grin. Then again, the actor playing Mr. Potter says just about everything with a goofy and inappropriate grin. Anyway. Mr. Potter launches into an anecdote about the dress Mrs. Potter has on in one of the pictures -- too expensive blah blah blah told her to take it back blah blah blah "she went out and bought two of them just to spite me" blah blah blah "that was your mother" blah blah blah fishcakes. Then he asks why Joey is looking at the photo album. Joey tells him what happened to Abby. Mr. Potter asks if Joey was close with Abby, and Joey says no, Abby was "kind of a nightmare," but her death "kind of got [Joey] thinking." Mr. Potter says carefully that they never really talked about her mother's death, and as soon as these words leave his lips, Joey gets nervous and says she has to get to school, and she grabs her stuff in a big hurry and beats it out of there as her dad looks after her ruefully.
Cut to Capeside High. Jen, her hair ratcheted back in an unnecessary black headband, whips open a door and clomps into the school building. As she walks down the hall, other students stare at her and whisper, which makes her clomp even more defiantly to her locker.
Later, in what looks like a kindergarten classroom, the students sit in a circle; a woman named Elizabeth introduces herself as a grief counselor who will "facilitate a discussion about AbiGale." "Grief counselor"? Jen glares at Elizabeth as she says she knows the kids "have all been dealt a heavy blow." Meanwhile, Andie "Seratonin Inhibitor" McPhee sits glumly with her arms folded and Pacey "Lower The Drawbridge!" Witter picks at his fingernails. Jack "Will" McPhee also sits with his arms folded, smirking skeptically as Elizabeth natters on about sharing feelings and the grieving process. Some random extra announces to the group that "the Girls' Service League is distributing yellow armbands that we're wearing in honor of Abby's memory." Jen shakes her head as the girl says that anyone who wants one can pick one up in the cafeteria. Then Elizabeth says, "Jennifer -- I was told that you were a close friend of AbiGale's. Would you like to talk about some of the feelings that you're experiencing?" Jen, with an effort at restraint, mutters, "No." Elizabeth tells her that "that's perfectly okay" as Jen fights tears. Then Elizabeth calls on Andie and asks her if she knew Abby, and Andie says that she did, and Elizabeth asks if she wants to talk about her feelings, and Andie says she guesses she feels "shocked." Andie goes on to say that Abby "was so incredibly alive and she had such a great spirit, it's -- it's really a tragedy." Pacey and Jen stare at Andie in disbelief when they hear this, although strictly speaking Andie didn't lie or anything. Andie looks down at her lap. Jen grabs her bag and clomps right out of the room, apparently disgusted by the hypocrisy of the grief counseling session.
In the caf, as the random extra chick thanks someone for wearing a yellow armband, Dawson looks around for Joey. Dawson's hair has sunk to new depths of silliness in this episode -- it looks like one of those unexplained crop circles. Joey sits down with her product-placed Diet Coke and immediately says that she knows they have "a lot to talk about concerning the other night," and I reach for a recently sharpened fork in the event that the phrase "finding myself" or any derivative thereof leaves her lips. Fortunately, Dawson cuts her off with, "Joey, let's -- could we just not -- go there? Right now there's a lot of stuff going on, and -- we can analyze this to death later." Joey says, "Great." Then she scoots closer to Dawson and confesses, "The truth is, I never really liked Abby." Gimme a D! Dawson admits, "Ditto." Gimme a U! Joey goes on, "I actively despised her." Gimme an H! What does it spell? DUH! Dawson talks about the weirdness of everything surrounding Abby's demise and says he "can't imagine what the funeral's gonna be like." Joey doesn't plan on going to the funeral, and when Dawson quizzically says, "Yeah?" Joey explains, "Dawson, the last funeral I went to was my mom's. I mean, I haven't even been to her grave site -- I think going to Abby's funeral will just open this Pandora's box of emotions that frankly I'd rather keep sealed tight." Dawson decides against saying something supportive, opting instead for judgmental: "Joey, your mother died three years ago. You've got feelings you haven't dealt with, how long were you planning on waiting?" Instead of snapping, "Until you get a clue, jackass," Joey admits that part of her is still waiting for her mother to come back, "like her death was just this -- cosmic error, and eventually God will realize that He made a terrible mistake and He'll send her back to me like he did my dad, and, and I'll have my mom again." She looks down and says, "I know it sounds ridiculous." Dawson says no, it doesn't, but then promptly dismisses it as "a child's false hope" and tells her she'll have to let it go. Instead of sneering, "Oh, kind of like your movie," Joey smiles sadly and says she doesn't want to let it go: "You don't know what it's like, Dawson." That hasn't stopped him from running his mouth off before, but this time he manages to keep his trap shut. Memo to Joey: go over to Grams's house and borrow a cup of vertebrae, will you?
In the bathroom, Jen splashes water on her face and drinks it out of her hands. Andie walks in and says, "Jen?" and Jen, both sides of her entire face streaked with runny mascara, looks up quickly. Andie says she's been looking for Jen since she "just stormed out of class -- are you okay?" Jen weeps, "Like dealing with Abby's death isn't hard enough, but to watch everybody parade around acting like, like Abby was their best friend, it's sickening. Aside from me, Abby didn't have a single friend in Capeside." Andie points out that maybe Abby didn't deserve to have any friends: "Well that's because she was a -" Jen finishes for her: "A bitch! Come on, Andie, say it -- Abby was a bitch." Jen gets some toilet paper to wipe her face, and Andie says, "Well, I wouldn't go that far," to which Jen responds, "You would've three days ago! But now that she's dead you wax poetic about her great spirit, it's so insincere," and she prepares to blow her nose as Andie tries to defend herself: "Well, I don't think it's appropriate to malign her character after she's gone." Jen snarls, "It isn't maligning if it's true," and as Andie shakes her head, Jen continues, "Believe me, it would have been easier for everybody if Abby had just been this wonderful person with these virtuous qualities, but she wasn't. She was mean. And the least that we can do is acknowledge who she really was." Um, Jen? How about "acknowledging" some of that survivor's guilt you've got going there? Jen clomps out of the bathroom, and Andie follows her and tells her she knows how Jen feels, and Jen bitches about everyone "treating [her] like some kind of celebrity" just because she saw Abby pitch into the drink, and as she keeps on clomping down the hall with Andie in tow and those two giant half-moons of runny mascara gleaming on her cheeks, she gripes, "You know, it's funny. Abby spent her entire life shattering our fragile egos, and that's why people disliked her so intensely. Leave it to Abby, even in her death [sic] she's still exposing hypocrisy." Andie says that she feels bad, but still, she tried to make friends with Abby and Abby rejected her every time. Jen wheels on Andie: "She rejected you? If you hadn't rejected her at the wedding, none of this ever would have happened." Andie: "What?" Jen: "You kicked us out of the wedding, Andie, that's why we were at the docks in the first place." Andie, grimly: "Don't say that." Jen: "I'm sorry, okay, I can't do -- I gotta go home." She leaves Andie standing morosely in the hall. Two words: What. Ever.
Dawson comes through the front door of the No-Fault Hacienda. Gale "The Once And Future Mrs. Flash" Leery comes down the stairs and asks him about school, and Dawson compares the "dutiful mourners" at Capeside High to Munchkins set free from the Wicked Witch of the East. Shut up, Dawson. Mrs. Flash says she has some news she has to share with him, and Dawson looks concerned until she tells him that she won a Peale Vision Award for excellence in news broadcasting for her story on teenage girls. Apparently, the Peale committee will give an award to just about anyone. Mrs. Flash also says that, as a result, the network offered her a correspondent gig in Philadelphia. Some reward.
Dawson asks if she plans to take it. Mrs. Flash says that professionally, she can't afford not to, and she's been working towards this her entire career, but of course Dawson doesn't hear her and breaks in with, "I don't want to move to Philadelphia." Mrs. Flash tells him not to worry -- if she takes the job, Dawson can stay here and live with the Flash, and she would come home when she could. Dawson asks about her and the Flash: "Are you guys just throwing in the towel?" Mrs. Flash points out that the Flash doesn't seem to want to work things out, and if she gives up the correspondent position too, what has she got left? Dawson's response? "You still have me." Gee, what a relief. Well, except for the "relief" part. Gale smiles weakly as if to say, "My point precisely," and doesn't answer.
Jen lies in bed wrapped in -- a blanket. No comment. Grams knocks and comes in: "Jennifer, I'm worried about you." Jen, brusquely: "Don't be, I'm just tired." Grams admits that she didn't like Abby much; she thought Abby was mocking her. Jen snorts, and Grams says, "She was, wasn't she?" and Jen tells her not to take it personally, Abby was mocking everyone. Grams starts in with her the-Lord-works-in-mysterious-ways routine and remarks that the death of someone so young "really tests one's faith." Jen says, "Lucky me, I didn't have any faith to begin with," and she gets off the bed where Grams has sat down to her and stands with her arms folded, sulking, as Grams continues to prattle on about God's plan. Jen remarks that if God had a plan for Abby, she didn't follow it very well, but Grams says that God did have a plan for Abby and He has one for Jen, too, and Jen gets all prickly and doesn't "want to have a religious discussion right now," and Grams presses the point but Jen says, "Grams, please, okay?" Grams drops it, but tells Jen, "I'm here for you, whenever you need me." Jen doesn't answer. Grams leaves.
Café Whatever. Pacey can't believe Jen blamed Andie for Abby's death. Andie quails. Pacey tells Andie not to blame herself, especially since she "bent over backwards to befriend" Abby. Andie tells Pacey not to tell her how to feel -- if she feels upset and guilty, she feels upset and guilty. Pacey backs down in order to avoid another cake-wrecking incident, but says he doesn't "like seeing [her] like this." Then they spot Abby's mother walking up to the counter. Andie cringes. Mrs. Morgan recognizes her, and Andie reminds Mrs. Morgan that she got a ride from Mrs. Morgan once, and Mrs. Morgan says that Abby "talked a lot about" Andie, and Andie cringes again and expresses her condolences, and Mrs. Morgan asks Andie to say a few words at the funeral, since people haven't exactly lined up around the block to give a eulogy for Abby, and since Abby was "so fond of" Andie, and Andie cringes yet again but chirps, "Sure, sure." Pacey says nothing during this entire exchange, instead sitting there chewing. As Mrs. Morgan leaves, Andie looks at Pacey in horror and gasps, "Eulogy?"
The Phantom Menace. Hey, I think I might have heard something about that movie.
Outside in the rain in front of Abby's house, Pacey and Andie and their umbrellas carry a bouquet of flowers to, presumably, a wake of some kind. Pacey says that Andie doesn't have to give the eulogy, that she could still wriggle out of it somehow, but Andie says she has to, because her family deserves to have someone honor Abby's memory respectfully, and she'll always remember the nice things people said at her brother's funeral. I can respect that, I guess. As they go up the front walk, they impute significance to the fact that they've never seen Abby's house before. Pacey says he thought it would have gargoyles and a moat or something. They walk into a foyer filled with floral arrangements, which Pacey describes as "morbid," and he asks why they came since Andie will only get "more freaked out," but Andie wants to see Abby's room, "where she brushed her hair and planned her future." Pacey and Sars: "Why?" Andie says they can pay their condolences and then sneak upstairs to Abby's bedroom. Okay, everyone who cares, raise your hands. No? Nobody? Okay then. Me neither.
At the dock, Jen drinks rotgut and throws a wreath of flowers into the water.
Abby's bedroom, which looks suspiciously girly and neat considering that Abby lived in it. Andie and Pacey slink in, and Pacey points out that if Mrs. Morgan sees them, she'll think they snuck off to get some nookie in Abby's room. Andie doesn't listen to him, saying that the room seems to be "waiting for [Abby] to come back." Pacey gets creeped out and wants to leave, but Andie finds Abby's diary and informs Pacey loftily that "the real thoughts of any girl lie within the confines of her personal diary." Oh, as opposed to her "public diary"? And didn't we already cover this hokey subplot with Joey and Dawson earlier in the season? Anyway, Pacey grabs the journal away from Andie and says that they should respect people's privacy, "even in death," but Andie grabs it back and says she wants to read it so she can give a decent eulogy, not so she can satisfy her curiosity. She begins reading aloud all the bitchy things that Abby wrote within, like calling Jen a "bleach-blonde hosebag," and saying how much she hated her "dried-up old wench" of a mother, and referring to Andie as a "psycho." Before Andie can get to the part about Pacey, Pacey takes the diary away from her, saying that he doesn't want to hear it and demanding that they leave. Andie looks distressed.
Dawson drops in on Mitch "The Flash, Ph.D" Leery at school. The Flash says, "Dawson -- I was just thinking about you." Dawson says, "Huh." The Flash thinks that Abby's death has upset Dawson, so he philosophizes about dealing with death and how "it makes you realize you have to grab onto the people you love and never let go." Dawson, not bothering to hide his disdain for his father, smirks, "And on that note -- Mom was offered a job as a network correspondent in Philadelphia." The Flash says nothing, and when Dawson asks for his reaction, The Flash says he'll call her to congratulate her. Not good enough for the Condescending Conquistador, oh no. "That's it," he says, "you're gonna call up, say congratulations, and then just let her walk out of your life." The Flash doesn't like that tone of voice, but he says nothing as Dawson sneers, "'Grab onto those you love,' huh?" and stalks out of The Flash's office with his messenger bag flapping. The Flash looks vexed. If I had talked like that to my father, ever, my father would have punted me for a field goal. Then again, you wouldn't see my father out on dates with La Filmette, either, so there you go.
Over at the Icehouse, Jack uses a broom as a microphone to "interview" Joey about the whole kissing-Dawson-on-the-dance-floor situation. Joey tries to blow him off, but Jack -- in his new role as The Gay Guy, Sage Confidante To All And Sundry -- doesn't buy it, and Joey finally says, "We're putting it on hold." Then Jack asks, "So how you feeling otherwise?" Joey says she's okay, although she's had a lot on her mind lately, and asks how Jack feels about "this whole thing." Jack admits that the fact that he kissed Abby at Dawson's party weirds him out, because that probably means that Jack was the last person she ever kissed, and Joey shrugs, "At least she went out with a bang," and for some reason they both break up laughing at this rather Abby-esque single entendre (tm Wing). Yawn.
Speaking of things crushingly boring, cut to Dawson's movie as seen on editing software. Dawson stares at a clip playing on-screen of Abby-as-Jen screaming at Devon-as-Joey. Pacey walks in and pulls up a chair, and when Dawson asks "what's up?" Pacey tells Dawson that Mrs. Morgan asked Andie to "give a eulogy extolling Abby's virtues." "Extolling"? Dawson snickers, "How do you speak glowingly about a girl who rode to school on a broomstick?" (Oh, all right -- heh.) Pacey expresses his frustration with Andie and her myriad neuroses, and Dawson sighs, "I know what you mean. That's why I'm here." Pacey says, "It must be kind of a surreal experience editing a movie in which one of your leading ladies is no longer." Then Dawson hits "play" and Abby does the scene again, but this time she starts laughing and points to Devon and says, "I'm sorry -- she has food in her teeth," and Dawson and Pacey both sort of laugh. Do we even need this scene in the show? I don't think we do.
Back at the Good-Versus-Evil Chalet, Grams fries up something for dinner, while Sars downs several shots of espresso in a vain effort to keep her eyes open until Abby gets a proper Christian burial. Jen clomps in and peels off her jacket as Grams says, "Perfect timing -- dinner's almost ready," and Jen leans waaaaay over the frying pan to smell the food as Grams recoils from the stench of alcohol and gasps, "Jennifer, have you been drinking again?" Jen, staggering towards the stairs, slurs, "Not only have I been drinking, but I am drunk out of my mind," and as she pitches forward in an exaggeration of her usual graceless clompy walk, Grams protests, "Jennifer, don't do this to yourself, don't mask your grief with alcohol -- try to feel your pain. This drinking will only make things worse." Jen giggles, "'Worse'? Worse than what?" Grams tries to tell Jen to remember "the good times [she] shared with Abby" and that Abby would want Jen to remember her that way, but Jen laughs, "Well, then, you obviously didn't know Abby too well, because Abby is probably down there with Beelzebub, doing tequila shooters and laughing at all of us," and I'd have to agree with that assessment (except for the use of the word "shooters"). Grams refuses to give up, assuring Jen that Abby "is in God's hands -- He has a special place in His kingdom for the children." Jen, looking like she might barf into her hand again, burps, "Really? God's got a five-bedroom beach condo in Maui for dead kids?" and stumbles off towards her room, and Grams starts to object, but Jen rails at her, "For the last time, Grams, there is no God, and there is no heaven, and there is no peace, and there is no hope. The only truth that I know is pain. So you can just keep your Sunday-school fables to yourself, because they make me puke." I can't believe she actually said "the only truth that I know is pain." Like, shut up! Grams accuses Jen of enjoying shocking and offending her, and adds, "I am trying to be understanding, but you insist on disobeying my rules and polluting my house with your disrespectful blasphemy." Jen, half-gloating and half-crying: "I guess you're finally sick of me, huh? I guess your infinite patience and compassion aren't as infinite as we thought." Then Jen yells, "If I can't just, just be myself and just speak my mind, maybe I should just move out." Grams's jaw drops at this, and she exclaims, "Jennifer!" and Jen clodhops her drunk ass up the stairs to pass out. I have to say that the writers have done a decent job with Jen's whole pretentious I-gotta-be-me atheism trip.
I love that "somebody order a Saturn?" guy. I don't know why. I just do.
At the Potter breakfast table, Joey and her father eat without speaking. Joey clearly has something on her mind, and eventually Mr. Potter says, "What are you thinking about?" Joey is starting to forget her mother: "I'm trying to remember Mom, and -- I can't get a clear picture of her in my head." Mr. Potter looks concerned as Joey says, "It's the scariest thing -- it's like she's -- slowly fading away and -- do you know what I mean?" Mr. Potter nods and says after a pause, "Joey, when I was in prison, I missed your mother." First of all, as Wing pointed out, you gotta love it when someone starts a sentence with "when I was in prison." Second of all, I've heard about prison, and when Mr. Potter says he missed the company of a woman, I'm not disinclined to believe him.
Anyway, Big Daddy goes on to say, "The loss combined with the guilt was almost too much for me. But I look at you, and I know she's still here. You are so like your mother, Joey -- she was tough, and independent, funny, in the exact same ways you're funny -- stubborn, whew, she was stubborn. If you told her the sky was blue, she'd say it was green." As Joey smiles, her father finishes, "So she's not gone. She lives on in you. And that comforts me to no end." Joey looks a little sad. So do the future prospects for Gareth Williams's acting career.
Pacey and Andie on the beach. Andie still agonizing over what to say in her eulogy for Abby; Pacey suggesting that Andie just make something up. Andie sputtering, "Lie -- you want me to lie." Pacey saying she could always tell the truth instead and refer to Abby as a "hideous abomination." Andie not knowing what to do. Pacey offering to write the damn thing for her. Andie saying, "You'd do that for me?" Pacey saying that he'd do anything to keep her from "having a nervous breakdown," and Andie protesting that she isn't having a nervous breakdown, and Pacey telling her that "living vicariously through" Andie is about to give him a nervous breakdown. Sars going ahead and having a nervous breakdown herself and finding it much more entertaining than Pacey and Andie's relationship. Andie not wanting to burden Pacey with her mental illness; Pacey mounting his white charger and wanting to know how he can "help but come to [her] rescue" when he sees her "in distress." Andie not wanting their roles to become "etched in stone -- [Andie] the helpless lunatic and [Pacey] the hero on horseback." Sars muttering, "Word." Andie needing to take care of herself; Andie vowing to give the speech and saying she'll "think of something." Nobody caring.
At the Capeside Memorial Chapel, people file in for the service. Cut to a shot of the casket adorned with flowers, and a creepy school photo of Abby in a white blouse and a big tranquilized smile in front of the casket. Pacey tells Andie, who has on a little black dress with sheer cap sleeves, that she can still "duck out of here," but Andie intends to go through with it "even if it kills" her, and Pacey makes a bad joke about putting her in the coffin with Abby. Like, ha ha. Not. Joey comes in, also wearing a cap-sleeved black dress that seems a bit too slinky for a funeral, and sits down to Dawson and asks him to hold her hand. Memo to Joey: enough with the zig-zag part in your hair. In the back, Grams bustles in and takes a seat to Jen, who rolls her eyes and makes a snide comment. Grams whispers, "Jennifer, I lost a lot of sleep last night, and I, I do hope we can avoid ugly scenes like last night in the future. I want you to know I forgive you." Jen fumes silently before retorting, "I'm not looking for your forgiveness, Grams, I'm looking for your understanding. And that's something that you've never been able to provide." Grams looks away, stunned, and if you listen carefully you can hear the thin ice of Jen's living arrangement cracking beneath her.
The minister steps into the pulpit and says a few words and invites people up to share their memories of Abby, and for a long moment nobody moves, and Abby's mother turns around and stares at the congregation looking stricken, and the minister surveys the crowd also, and then Jen -- also wearing a black dress with sheer cap sleeves, which she wore to the dance earlier in the season, not to mention a facial expression suggesting a rhino on the verge of charging -- stands up, squares her shoulders, pushes past Grams, and stomps up to the front of the chapel as the rest of the gang (except Chris "Teen" Wolf, who should probably have given the eulogy, but who inexplicably doesn't appear anywhere in this episode) exchange worried looks. Jen ascends the pulpit, which is so high that it reminds me of the twenty-foot desk Andy Kaufman used to sit behind during his "talk show" in order to make his "guests" feel insignificant, and begins raining acidic home truths down on the assembled: "My name is Jen Lindley, and I was friends with Abby -- as much as anybody could be, because Abby had a toxic personality that bordered on radioactive." Mrs. Morgan wilts, and "what the fuck?" looks fly back and forth as Grams looks down at her lap and Jen continues, "Abby could be cruel, and Abby could be spiteful, and Abby could certainly be petty. She spent her days mischievously stirring up trouble and creating calamity and generally taking pleasure in other people's pain." Then she changes tacks, remarking bitterly, "You know, in Sunday school, they teach us that God made man in His image? Well, if God made Abby in His own image, then what does that say about God? God has always been such a mystery to me, I mean, what sort of deity creates a world that is so full of suffering, and is so full of tragedy?" Interesting point, but perhaps just a teensy bit, I don't know, INAPPROPRIATE in this particular venue. The minister squirms, and somewhere behind Grams's eyes a door slams shut as Jen hits her stride: "Tell you what, Abby taught me a lot. Abby taught me how to do a tequila shooter with one hand behind my back. [Um, Jen? For the last time, they're called "tequila shots," okay?] And she taught me how to live my life according to my own set of bounds [sic], and not to just follow the crowd in hopes of winning some phantom popularity contest. But most of all, what's most important is that Abby taught me the sadistic nature of our God, and while that knowledge is disturbing, it's true, and it's real." Oh, please. Grams presses her lips together as other people in the congregation flinch in disbelief, but Jen is on a roll: "And in a world that is so saturated with phoniness and with lies, for that small amount, for that little bit of honesty I will always be grateful to her." People continue to shoot each other "do you believe this shit?" glances; Mrs. Morgan sobs into her hankie, and Jen heads back to her seat. When she gets to her pew, Grams stands up, not to let her past but to stalk out of the chapel -- but not before giving Jen a look that could cut through sheet metal. Jen starts to realize that she bricked in a big way as she watches Grams go.
Jen sits down, and Andie stares at her and then sees Mrs. Morgan looking pleadingly in her direction, so she gets up and goes to the lectern. Back at Jen's pew, Jack gives Jen this weird "uh, okay" look. The entire congregation braces itself for another Ballantine blast, but Andie keeps it low-key; she starts off by mentioning the people in her life who comfort her and support her, and how much those people mean to her. Pacey smiles encouragingly as she goes on, "But there is another group of people, just as important and just as priceless. They are the people who challenge me, who push me to my breaking point, and who force me to muster courage I never thought I had." "Muster"? Jen sulks at Andie outclassing her as Andie says, "Abby Morgan was one of those people -- in her own truth-telling way, she gave me strength." A shot of Dawson and Joey's hands squeezing each other. Andie finishes, "I'm a stronger woman because of her, stronger than I ever thought that I could be. She gave me that gift; she was one of a kind. There's no one like her, and she will always hold a special spot in my heart." Mrs. Morgan dabs at her eyes some more, Pacey smiles at Andie some more, and Dawson goggles at Joey some more, and just as I don my water wings and prepare to "do an Abby" into a vat of liquid No-Doz, the camera cuts to the creepy school photo of Abby again, and mercifully we go to commercial.
Bring me the head of Christopher Lloyd.
Fade up on a slo-mo montage of the Capeside kids placing carnations on Abby's coffin at the grave and making mourning faces. From the looks of the trees in the cemetery, spring has somehow sprung in Capeside. Memo to the writers: WHAT FREAKIN' SEASON IS IT? Speaking of elements of this show that I will never understand, cut to Dawson and Joey. As they walk through the cemetery's garden, Dawson babbles a bit about editing his movie and watching Abby's footage, and says that it hit him "just how fleeting life is." Gee, what a deep insight. Not. Anyway, Dawson uses this so-called revelation as a springboard to talk about their relationship, and he says that he doesn't want to die not knowing what might have been or some such nonsense, and then he stammers, "Joey, I am so happy about what happened between us the other night." Joey doesn't respond; she seems to be stifling giggles. Dawson natters, "You know, I could just keep on talking until you say something, but usually the more I talk, the more chances there are I'm gonna screw up, so," and Joey shuts him up (woo hoo!) by kissing him (blecchhh). She smiles tenderly and says, "Of course I'm happy," and Dawson gives her a gratified Muppet-y smile, and Sars jams a knitting needle into her left eye. Memo to Joey: Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew -- and furthermore, ewwwww. Joey frowns and says she has to "go someplace" and asks Dawson to walk with her.
Pacey and Andie. Pacey tells her that she's had him "worried these past few days," but that as usual she got her act together in fine style. Andie says the whole experience brought her "closer to Tim," which I don't really get, but whatever. Pacey nuzzles her, but then she spots Jen sitting alone by the grave and says, "I'm gonna go talk to her." Andie approaches Jen where she sits on a folding chair, wiping her eyes, and when Jen sees Andie, she seems almost relieved; Jen then apologizes for blaming Abby's death on Andie, and proceeds to blame herself for inviting Abby out and getting her drunk and so on. Andie tells Jen that she must have done everything she could to save Abby, but "the current was too strong," and Jen cries that she saw Abby in the water and "she was so scared," and Andie sits to Jen and tells her not to think about that. Jen calls herself "weak, because I can't just accept the blame, I had to deflect it onto everybody else -- onto Capeside, onto you, onto my Grams, I -- oh God, and that speech, that [fucking] speech! What was I thinking, huh?" (Okay, sidebar. In semi-polite company, I sometimes "bleep" myself so that I only say "f" and then "ing" instead of "fucking," and it looks like Michelle Williams did that here. Closed captioning only showed an ellipsis, so she may in fact have said "fucking," but I can't tell. Illicit-cursing sidebar over.) Andie calls herself "a people-pleaser" and says for people-pleasing to work she has to act phony, but "Abby was the exact opposite. She put her truth above everything, and that's what you did. It was a memorial for Abby, and you were just being truthful to her spirit." Way to look at the bright side, Andie, but Jen doesn't buy it, saying that sometimes "it's better just to shut up" instead of speaking your truth. Could someone tell Dawson that, maybe? The girls both sigh. Then, for some reason, Andie tells Jen about Abby's "pretty nasty" diary and says that if Mrs. Morgan finds it, "she's gonna be devastated." Jen doesn't say anything.
In another part of the graveyard, Joey and Dawson stroll hand in hand through a bower of roses. Yes, I do believe that we get it. Joey approaches her mother's grave marker, and she starts to tear up as she stands over it and places a bouquet beside it, and she sort of touches the marker, which says "Lillian Josephine Potter" on it, wistfully, and she cries a little bit. "Lillian"? Dawson comes up behind Joey as she says, "I hope wherever she is, she's happy." Dawson says, "She's happy. She's looking down on you, and she's very happy." Doesn't Dawson customarily do the looking-down-on of Joey? Anyway, at least he tried to say something nice. Joey rests her head on his shoulder in a pretty unflattering shot of both of them.
Jen trudges up the porch steps to find Grams packing her things. She says, "Grams?" and Grams, stuffing some clothes into a bag, reproaches her, "How could you, Jennifer?" Jen murmurs, "You packed up -- all my stuff." Grams, folding angrily, snaps, "I went to that funeral today to try to give you some support, and to try to rectify some of the damage in our fragile relationship, only to find you heartlessly thumbing your nose at me, in a house of God no less." Jen tries to tell Grams that she gave the speech for Abby, not for Grams, but Grams -- as she should -- shoots Jen a "yeah right" look and keeps on packing as Jen says that she already regrets giving the speech. Jen says she knows she messed up and apologizes for "offending [Grams's] beliefs," but Grams contemptuously cuts her off: "This is not about my beliefs, or free speech, or any other philosophical nonsense. This is about the truth. And the truth is, you deliberately tried to wound me in that chapel -- you decided to take out all your pain and rage at the world on me." Jen tries to interrupt, but Grams has the boot laced up tight: "You want understanding -- how about a little understanding in return, how about a little compassion for me? Not just for my beliefs, but for me, your grandmother, who loves you, who would do anything for you, who would die for you!" Jen wails in desperation, "Wait, Gram -- Grandma, wait a minute, just listen!" Hmm -- I guess Michelle Williams calls her grandmother "Grandma," because Jen hasn't called Grams that before, and this scene got pretty intense for her, I think. In any case, Grams won't hear it, hissing, "You should be living with someone else, someone you respect, and clearly I am not that person. The time you waste rebelling against me is getting you nowhere." Jen stares at Grams with tears of despair welling in her eyes; Grams says sternly, "So while it pains me more than you will ever know, Jennifer, I want you to move out," and then, almost in tears herself, "Find somewhere else to live." Grams goes inside and closes the door in Jen's stunned face, and she leans against it and begins to weep, and out on the porch, Jen closes her eyes and cries, and then she sighs and just stands there among all of her things. I respect Grams for chewing Jen out, but not only would Grams never just boot Jen out on her own without calling her parents or giving her two weeks to find other digs or what have you, but frankly I don't think Grams as written would kick her out at all, and it sucks that the writers had to ruin the one character with any sense on this show by making her do something so unrealistically melodramatic.
Yikes -- better make that vat of No-Doz a vat of Pepto instead. Andie lets herself into Abby's house, calling, "Mrs. Morgan? Hello?" No answer, so she goes up to Abby's room to snag the dastardly diary. She roots through the drawer she presumably hid it in earlier, and when she finds it, she looks up and sees Abby behind her in the mirror, smiling wickedly. Andie whirls around, but of course The Dark Specter Of Abby has vanished, and Andie hugs the diary to her chest and looks concerned and freaked out, thus telegraphing to the audience that Andie is about to go as crazy as a night in Vegas.