By Evany
In the wake of Tootie's departure, Lynette has resorted to a crabby silence, which Tom tries to crack by bringing in a stealth marriage counselor. But when this strange guy suddenly starts in with the "And how does that make you feel?"s, Lynette figures out that it's a setup, and the temperature of her relationship drops another ten degrees. Desperate to make some kind of love connection, Tom gets his doctor's approval to have sex, only Lynette is so incredibly, profoundly not in the mood for It. But when Tom insists that her choice is to either have sex with him or have an actual conversation, she jumps on the sex option, but in a "wildcat violence masked as intercourse" sort of way. Things turn super-ugly (like biting-and-scratching ugly), Tom brutishly bucks Lynette off the bed, and she bonks her head on the side table. They head down to the hospital to get her melon probed, and while they're waiting for the results of Lynette's CAT scan, Tom asks her if she still has feelings for Tootie. Her crushed, torn face says it all. And at that precise moment of potential relationship detonation, the doctor comes in to announce that Lynette's goose egg is fine, but her lymph nodes are perhaps a very different story. The doctor orders a biopsy, and Tom and Lynette quietly clasp hands.
Mike proposes to Susan, and she immediately starts placing calls to let everyone know that the wedding she just canceled is now back on; same time, same station, totally different groom. Only it turns out that Gabby, in a rush to get nupped up, has already swooped in on Susan's wedding day, along with Susan's carefully selected florist, band, and caterer. Susan is enraged, and the two ladies bicker, but when it looks as though their friendship could be on the line, they make up, get sauced on a bottle of sassy rosé, and make a booze-soaked plan to share their big day in a double wedding, Season-Finale-style. In the harsh light of morning, though, they both regret the idiotic plan, but not nearly as much as Mayor McBusive hates the idea: he refuses to share the alter with an ex-con like Mike, not with all the press sniffing around and taking photos. And Gabby is all like, "Press? At our wedding? Who is this man I met three scant months ago and am now weirdly marrying?" In short: the double wedding is off, Susan and Mike are postponing their wedding until Season 4, and Gabby is experiencing the first uncomfortable tendrils of doubt about Mayor McBusive. Don't do it, Gabby! Just say "I don't"!
Meanwhile, Edie sinks to subterranean lows when she pressures Carlos to move in with her, and when he demurs -- after all, he just signed the lease on Mike's old place -- she tells his landlord that Carlos is a big old junkie with a prostitute problem. The landlord cancels Carlos's lease, leaving him with nowhere to go but Edie's. When Carlos puts two and two together about Edie's role in his current homeless straights, he finally confesses that he doesn't really love her. Perfect timing, since Edie now thinks she's pregnant. Carlos gets all excited about the prospect of a baby, and he's already hard at work planning how they'll decorate the kid's room when it turns out that it's a false alarm. But then Needie pretends that she actually wanted this hypothetikid, and she proposes the ultra-modern scenario where she and friend-with-benefits Carlos deliberately try to have a kid together, despite not actually being in love. And Carlos, stung by the invite to Gabby's wedding, totally agrees to the plan. Except that it turns out Edie is still secretly taking birth controls in an attempt, as Mary Alice clues us in, to keep Carlos around long enough to convince him that he loves her without actually having to have a baby in the process. Because nothing, NOTHING, makes a woman feel finer than a man who has to be lied, cajoled, and connived into a relationship that he'll always secretly wish he wasn't a part of.
Previously on Desperate Housewives: Scavos are on the rocks (no twist, really), Mike got hit-and-runnethed into a coma while on his way to propose to Susan, who meanwhile sat waiting for him in front of her RV and packing his voicemail with an increasingly needy series of messages, and Carlos wants babies (see: all of Seasons 1 and 2).
And hit it, MAVO! We start off the penultimate episode of Season 3 by taking at closer look at the reunited Mike and Susan. Does it feel so good? "Exactly one year had passed since the night Mike Delfino and Susan Mayer were supposed to get engaged," MAVO tells us. Susan, looking dazzlicious in a metallic sequined top and a much-needed layer of sandwiches on her Skeletor frame, sits at the table with Mike, looking love-stoned and expectant. According to MAVO, "she just knew he was going to pop the question." So Susan expects a proposal, even though they only re-re-re-got back together four seconds ago? And just five seconds ago, she was engaged to another man? An Englishman? Though I guess I have no right to be surprised; I've lost track of how many times Mike and Susan have reunited, but each time it happens, she is always completely, insanely gung-ho to bypass over the fun getting-reacquainted stuff to skip right to the commitment (be it moving in together after just two days of dating, or getting back together and then talking marriage over the span of just one two-hour Season Finale). What's the big, heated, 1950s-style rush here?
So dinner with Mike and Susan plays out in a montage of Susan repeatedly getting her proposal hopes raised and dashed: Mike bends to one knee...! But only so he can tie his shoe (which I've never, ever seen someone do in the middle of a meal, what the hell?). A fiddle-player comes by to pluck on Susan's heartstrings, and Mike reaches into his inner coat pocket...! And pulls out a tip for the violinist. A crème brûlée is delivered to the table under a titillating silver dome (also something I've never actually seen, a dome placed over something not being delivered to your hotel room and over something that doesn't need to be kept warm?), and Mike smiles at reaches over for the big reveal...! But there's nothing inside but the dessert, surrounded by a weirdly pathetic display of wilted mint leaves and random piles of berries that look like a deer came by and shot out a wad of pellets right onto the plate. You'd think that, after watching Edie sit through her own ring-hopeful dinner with Karl, the one that ended with her clawing apart a perfectly perfect soufflé, Susan would know that to assume when it comes to a ring, only makes an ass out of Susan and, well, Susan. By the end of the meal, Susan is sullen and surly and altogether an archetype of the kind of person you would never, ever want to marry. She even goes so far as to yell at Mike, on their ride home, for daring not to propose to her today, of all days, the anniversary of their almost-engagement! Mike: "Why would I want to commemorate the anniversary of the night some maniac put me in a coma?" Susan continues to whine and moan and bitch, until they pull up in front of the house, and there is the RV, all done up in Christmas lights just like it was at the same time last year. Now where did that come from? No, seriously, where has the RV been stored all this time? And how has Mike managed to get his hands on it? And who laid out the table and poured out the wine and lit the candles? And why would they even want to sit down to an open-air picnic dinner after eating a big, fancy meal? And why does Mike even want to marry this shrill, demanding woman? It's not too late, Mike! Save yourself! Just tell Susan that the amnesia's come back, and then put that truck into overdrive and get yourself out of Fairview -- you're still packed, right?
Susan's jaw drops in amazement, and they walk over to the table. Mike gets down on bended knee, and there's not an untied shoelace lace in sight. But before Mike can get his prepared little speech going, Susan blurts out, "Will you marry me?!" Mike, laughing: "I kind of had a speech prepared. But sure, what the heck." Sigh. Now he's gone and done it. Gah, it's cute little scene, I'll begrudgingly admit, but it's also supremely irritating (coming as it does on the heels of Susan's bad behavior in the car) -- much like Susan herself!
And from that scene of pre-wedded bliss, MAVO contrast-shuttles us over to the embattled Scavo house, which is struggling in grim silence in the wake of Tootie's departure. We Desper-montage through a series of scenes showing Tom asking Lynette inane, couple-type questions, the best of which is his query about the age-appropriateness of a very ill-advised (and very Gay Matt circa 1994) muscle-tee. Lynette answers each of Tom's questions with a blank zombie stare.
The montage lands us at the Scavo family table. It's breakfast, and everyone is eating in uncomfortable silence, which older P breaks by asking Lynette if she's "mad at Daddy?" re: her silent treatment. Lynette denies it with a smile and nicely explains that "a sign of a good relationship is being comfortable in silence." Tom agrees, but then he tacks on a passive-aggressive amendment about how the kind of silence he endured from Lynette last night at the Scavoria "wasn't exactly comfortable." Lynette, while still referring to Tom in the third person, points out that maybe he didn't notice that she was busy busting her ass, carting around "twenty-pound bags of flour." And yet, has Lynette been busy carrying around flour the last five whole days? Because that's how long the silent treatment has been going on. Lynette accuses Tom of trying to pick a fight, he claims he's just trying to get her to talk to him, and Lynette gives him a big frustrated brush-off. Big P, with his eyes doing a chastened hybrid bug-roll: "Sorry I asked!" -- kind of makes the maritally challenged Sarah and Joe on Brothers and Sisters look like a couple of child-rearing geniuses, doesn't it?
And back to blissful Susan and Mike, who are clearly making a much better morning of it; Mike has his shirt all unbuttoned and he's reading the paper, and Susan is gleefully calling the flower guy to tell him that the wedding is totally back on! Same time, same date, only...different groom. She checks in with Mike, apparently not for the first time, but he's totally okay with being inserted into wedding she had planned with Ian: "I stole his bride, I guess I can poach his florist." The Stoneman, it seems, has left the building. Susan wonders what oh what she might be forgetting. "Um, guests?" Mike suggests. Susan gasps and puts in an order for another round of invites with the printer, only with an ever-so-slight typographical change. Theme-cut over to...
...Gabby, who's furrowing her brow over the task of selecting the perfect flower girl. Lynette is apparently gunning for Penny to walk the aisle, but Gabby is having none of it, based on the wee P's lack of "charisma." Ah, but Mayor McBusive has the perfect solution: his cleaning lady's daughter looks like an exact carbon copy of Gabby, only miniaturized! Mayor: "See, this way, the wedding procession starts with you as this beautiful little girl, [and] ends with you as the stunning bride that you've become." Am I the only one who finds it creepy that the flower girl is being selected purely on aesthetics? I always thought your wedding party was supposed to be a collection of all the people (and dogs) you care about most? Gabby commends him for being so "into" the wedding, telling him, "You're like a hot groom and a gay best friend all rolled into one." Contrast-cut over to...
...Carlos's house. Edie stumbles down from upstairs, looking like a grim cross between Death and Voldemort circa The Sorcerer's Stone and muttering something about a "bad scallop" (i.e., clearly, she's been hurling the night away). Carlos: "You'd think that half-bottle of tequila would have disinfected [the bad scallop]." Edie groans. Mike bursts in, all smiles, and announces that he's just there to pick up some stuff to move over to the home of his betrothed, Susan. Carlos offers Mike his hearty congrats; they do the half-shake-bro-hug. Carlos notes that Mike didn't "waste any time" (my thoughts exactly!), and Mike oh-so-sincerely says, "I don't want to wake up one more day without her lying to me." Edie: "Oh god. Here comes what's left of breakfast." Mike skips upstairs, pausing only to warn Carlos and Edie about "all the wedding fever" running amok on Wisteria Lane, and how they're in danger of getting infected. Carlos laughs hugely and dismissively, and Edie gets all offended. Carlos points out that it's too soon for even the barest whiff of marriage, seeing as they really "only just started dating." Finally, finally a man who believes in a sane romantic timetable. Edie is all, "I know, but we could live together!" And yet, clearly she doesn't know, because living together is a huge step too, and not something you do when you only just started dating, especially when it's someone who's demonstrated that he's not a hundred percent into the relationship. Carlos scrambles to point out that he just signed the lease on Mike's place, and the rent money goes to pay the landlady's nursing home bills -- he can't back out now! Edie gets a scheming look in her eye. Cut to...
...the Sunny Pastures Retirement Home. It's sabotage! Edie waltzes in and brings nice little old lady "Mrs. Simms" (Carlos's landlady) a bunch of flowers. Mrs. Simms is ecstatic to see Edie pretend that she's a big Mrs. Simms fan, even though this is the first time Edie's come to pay the woman a visit in the years she's been here. Edie wastes no time in steering gossip over to Carlos, whom she acci-purposefully outs as a "functional junkie" with a bit of a hooker problem. The scene ends with Edie very helpfully helping the arthritic Mrs. Simms to rip up Carlos's lease. Please Edie, just stop. Really, this is getting pathetic.
Susan's out checking her mail when Gabby jogs by. Gabby races up to hug Susan and coo about how "devastated" she must be over whole Ian thing, but then Mike walks up with a box of stuff. Gabby, archly: "I see you picked up the pieces!" Susan waves her rock around and Gabby coos appreciatively. But things turn sour when it turns out that Gabby took over Susan's wedding date the second she heard about the fallout with Ian -- you see, Mayor McBusive wanted to get the vows exchanged pronto so as not to raise any town eyebrows over "shacking up" with Gabby. Mike gamely offers to shift their date, but Susan isn't letting it go: "Gabby did you really think I would want to spend what would have been my wedding day watching someone else get married?" She has a small point. And it would have been nice if Gabby had at least checked in with Susan to make sure it was okay to completely rob her of all the details of her own unique romantic fantasy. But on the other hand, the sooner Susan realizes she isn't the center of the Fairview universe, the sooner we can stop sighing in irritation whenever she crosses our screens. And why blow the nice, happy glow of her proposal on a bickery fight over an abstract objection over her no-longer-a-factor heartache over Ian? Mike, again: It's not too late to make a run for it! Mike pulls a still-steamed Susan inside the house, and the camera lingers long and hard on Gabby's puzzle-frowning face as we head into commercial.
When we return to our regularly scheduled programming, Susan's had enough time to calm down, and she walks over to Gabby's to make nice and hand-deliver her RSVP. Except...guess who's over at Gabby's? None other than Susan's own wedding florist, whom Gabby has also poached. Not only that, but Gabby's lifted the exact same bouquet configuration (a totally forgettable mix of peach tulips and pink roses, whatever) that Susan picked out for her wedding. It also turns out that Gabby's lifted Susan's caterer and her "swing band," too. Just like that, Susan's ramped back up to Defcon 1. I don't know, Susan; swing bands are so 1998 -- you should be glad Susan took that stale bullet for you. And really, it does seem pretty lame to steal a friend's entire wedding like that. But, worse still, it's far-fetched: am I really supposed to believe that Gabby would pick the same anything as Susan? The two women have completely different tastes. Gabby finally acknowledges that Susan has basically planned her entire wedding for her, and she tries to rectify things by offering Susan a check for $10,000. Ugly words are exchanged: Gabby accuses Susan of rushing into things with Mike (true!), Susan accuses Gabby of doing the same thing (which...also true!), and then Gabby says something super-mean about how maybe Susan's going to suddenly discover that she misses Ian, and Mike will find himself longing for his coma. Pow! Susan throws the florist's arrangement across the room and the vase shatters. Then she rips up her RSVP. And then she crazily grabs a handful of "her" flowers and herky-jerks off home. Oh Susan. Just take the ten grand and shut your whine hole -- now that Ian isn't footing the nuptial bill, you're really going to need it.
Edie returns from her visit to the nursing home to discover that Carlos has already received his eviction notice. Edie sweetly offers to let Carlos crash at her place, just, you know, until he can find a place of his own. I have an idea! How about Carlos moves into his condo? You know, the one that's supposedly been being remodeled this whole time? Carlos catches a whiff of the sickly smell of lies in the air, and extrapolates that evil Edie actually had something to do with the eviction. They fight, he tells her he isn't in love with her, only in "like." She tells him she very well may be carrying his "love child," which she quickly and pointedly downgrades to "like child." Sigh. I know that slutty behavior is almost always linked to some kind of self-esteem problems, but still -- this new version of Edie just does not jibe with the Edie of yesteryear, a woman who racked up the notches on her lipstick case, sure, and was actively looking for love, yeah, but who also had an admirably sturdy independence streak. Remember how she left her long-time crush Mike the very second things got a little complicated? Back then, all it took was one bloody wrench and Edie was off to greener pastures. But now, she's this weak-o woman who puts her head in the sand (where "sand" equals Carlos's lap) rather than face the fact that there's a disturbing lack of cartoon hearts in her current man's eyes. Seasons 1 and 2 Edie would have never, ever put up with a man who needed to be talked in to loving her. But Late Season 3 Edie is totally willing to settle for whatever bad company she can scrape together. Sad, so sad. Nice dress, though.
EPT time. Edie comes out of the bathroom with her piss-drenched stick, and Carlos launches into an agonizing fantasy about how glorious it's going to be when they have their baby. It's going to be a boy, of course, and they're going to paint his nursery to look like pirate's booty, and Carlos is definitely going to move in, and they're all going to be so happy together! And really anyone who can't see where this is headed deserves to have his or her television viewer's license revoked. That's right: the test is totally negative, which means the rabbit lives and Carlos is now completely not into Edie, once again. Really, the only good thing about this scene is when Edie screams at Carlos for putting the urine-soaked stick on the coffee table without using a coaster.
And for the five of you out there who are still think Tom isn't an idiot, this scene ought to change your mind. So Tom, frustrated over Lynette's silence, invites an old college drinking buddy -- now a marriage counselor -- down to the restaurant to administer some stealthy marriage-healing therapy on Lynette. And what makes this the stupidest plan that ever was? Let me count the ways. For one thing, a couple's counselor should be totally neutral, meaning no ties to any one side -- which means no former drinking buddies allowed, Tom Dumb. Also both parties need to be fully invested in the process, which means they need to actually be aware that they're in therapy and consciously contributing. And also, you probably shouldn't conduct this highly personal conversation right in the middle of the restaurant that you own, where an employee could walk in at any moment. I mean, I get that Tom is Desperate, and he feels as though he needs to do something, anything, to get the lines of communication up and running with Lynette, but maybe a nice, quiet mini-vacation to some tropical locale might have been a better place to start. Or a simple, nice dinner out together? But instead he comes up with this booby-trap of a therapist plan? It's like he built a rocket-ship out of coffee cans and cinnamon buns and then was all, "Hop in, everybody, we're going into Deep Space!"
Lynette is super-busy, but she agrees to Tom's bizarre request for her to sit down with his old friend, whom she immediately recognizes from Tom's old frat stories -- a frat guy, of course Tom's a frat guy -- as the one who won the "beer pong championship" and then "threw up in the trophy." Again: barfing? Beer pong? These are not things you want to know about a potential therapist. Of course, it takes Lynette about four Earth seconds -- and lots of pointed and shocked stares at Tom (who keeps divulging all these freaky personal facts about their marriage and the Tootie Troubles) -- to figure out what's going on here, and the second she pieces it together -- "What is this, ambush therapy?" -- she's gone. And another Tom Scavo plan ends in failure. Wah-wah. Also: Lynette's mascara is subtly smudged beneath her eyes in this scene, giving her a very "I'm still wearing the same makeup from two days ago" look that definitely helps underscore this fit of blues she's in the midst of.
In a direct echo of the not-so-distant scene where Gabby forced Lynette and Susan to turn on Edie, now Susan has gathered Lynette and Edie to turn them on Gabby over this whole Stolen Wedding issue. In a nice nod to continuity, Edie is super gung-ho in support of Susan's anti-Gabby ranting -- Edie doesn't need to be cajoled into joining the Gabby Sucks club; she's been the clubs sole member for weeks now, and she's more than happy to up the membership: "I've never known anyone as dishonest and manipulative [as Gabby]," she says, and it's clear that even she thinks that's rich, coming from her. Lynette, who is still looking a far cry from her personal best, is arguing for moderation: Does Susan really want to end her friendship with Gabby over this? Susan: "No, I guess not." Edie: "Wuss. Well, at least get her a thoughtless crappy gift, like a blender." Susan: "I got you a blender for Christmas!" Edie, smiling bright: "And I use it every day!" What's wrong with a blender? And why is Susan buying the woman who burned her house down a Christmas present? Inquiring minds, etc.
Later. Susan selects a bottle of wine from her larder and heads out the door, only to run into Gabby (why, is that the silver leather space blazer?), who's come by with a gigantic box of chocolates. (Is that a price tag I spy, still affixed to the bottom of the box? If Bree were here, she'd have kittens.) The two ladies hug and exchange high-pitched keens of "sorry." Cut to...
...drunk Susan and Gabby, sitting on Susan's couch, eating chocolate and sipping wine and comparing notes about how scary it is to face the idea of getting married again. That sounds like a capital idea! (Evany uncorks the Safeway sauvignon blanc; Evany peels back the tin foil on a Cadbury Fruit and Nut bar.) Susan shluffs that she is "ninety-nine percent" positive about Mike being her Mr. Rowr, but still there's that "pesky one percent" that keeps her from being, well, one hundred percent sure. Mostly, her worrying is fueled by the fact that she remembers being so sure when she married Karl, and look how that turned out. Gabby admits that the whole idea of swapping vows is totally "scary"; yes, she's "crazy" about Mayor McBusive, but it really has only been just three months. (That's what she said! And by "she," I mean me.) Susan Forrest Gumps (what, again?!) that marriage is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're going to get "until you're in the middle of it." By way of demonstrating, Susan cracks open a bon-bon, and it's one of "those hard jelly ones." Susan gasps; could this be a sign? Susan fights off the panic and swoons her head in Gabby's lap. "Getting married," she slurs, "is scary, but at least we'll be doing it together." Gabby has a brainstorm. She cups Susan's head in her hands and coos that they should "get married together!" Susan: "Oh! I'm beyond flattered, I find you to be an incredibly attractive woman..." Silly Susan; Gabby is talking about a Double Wedding. You know, just like on The Brady Brides! Susan squeals. Gabby squeals. Susan squeals. Gabby squeals. Susan squeals. Gabby squeals. Susan squeals. And then Gabby says, "Just so you know, if I was a lesbian, I'd totally do you." Susan, looking uncomfortable: "That's good to know." Oh Susan, shhh. You know you'd go Indigo Girl for Gabby, too, don't deny it! Also: Best scene of tonight's episode, that was.
The morning. The Desperate cam pans across a sea of regret, from the wine bottle tipped over on its side to the sea of empty chocolate wrappers. MAVO: "It's a fact of life that brides to be who agree to a double wedding late at night often feel differently come the dawn." Ah, the sugar-and-booze hangover -- there's nothing quite like it. Susan is lying in bed to Mike. She opens her eyes, and for a few beats, she's looks perfectly contented, but then the memory of the night before trickles back, and a look of horror spreads across her face. And then we see Gabby waking up in her own bed, looking equally as panicked. Oh thank you, Marc Cherry! I was so dreading a double-dumb wedding -- I really appreciate you putting a bullet in this idea right up front. we get some back-and-forth scenes, with both ladies trying to explain the situation to their fiancés, only they're both scrambling to make it look like the other woman was the one to blame for the heinous scheme. Mike could actually go either way: he's pretty much willing to do whatever Susan wants to do. And since Susan doesn't want a double wedding, not at all, Mike is even willing to pretend that he flat-out refuses to be a part of it. "Tell [Gabby] that your groom's an old-fashioned guy," Mike says, "and he doesn't want to see anybody up on that altar but his bride." Susan, hugging up on Mike from behind, "So this is what marriage is all about, having somebody to hide behind?" It's a revolting sentiment, and yet...aw!
Meanwhile Mayor McBusive is putting his foot down about the double-trouble wedding in a big way -- he even says he's willing to pay for Susan and Mike's wedding (really?!), if that's what it takes to get out of this thing. But unlike Mike, the Mayor seems less interested in what would make his wife-to-be happy and is way more motivated by a fear of how the shared wedding will affect appearances; his constituents sure aren't going to like him sharing the altar with an ex-con (oh and also it turns out that he's invited a bunch of press people to the wedding, much to Gabby's surprise). The take-away: what's the opposite of "aw"? Ew?
Carlos is lying in bed, looking over apartment listings, when Edie comes to announce her Big Baby Plan: you see, she noticed how blue he was when the pregnancy test came back negative. She picked up on that, did she? So now she thinks that they should try to have a baby, like, on purpose! There's a lot of back and forth, with Edie insisting that she, too, was disappointed to discover there was no baby on the way (which, as we'll soon discover, is a fat lie). And as far as the whole part about how Carlos doesn't really love Edie? "We like each other, right?" she rationalizes. "I mean, that's more than a lot of parents have going for them." And then she adds, "We both need to love someone; no one said it had to be each other." Her arguments actually sound pretty convincing (even though they're LIES!), and after a sad little glance at Gabby's wedding invite, Carlos agrees to the scheme. Edie squees about how very good-looking their offspring is going to be, given their combined genes (good-looking and duplicitous!), and they make plans to go at it, sans protection. How...modern?
Later that night, Susan and Gabby run into each other out on the Lane, and there's some awkward hemming and hawing until Susan breaks the ice about how disappointed Mike is about the double wedding, and how maybe it's best that they go it solo, with Mike and Susan pushing back their ceremony to Season 4? Gabby is hugely relieved. Susan is hugely relieved. And smiles, everyone, smiles! As Gabby turns to go (she has to rush off for a meet with "Francois," the flower gentleman), Susan stops to gush about how that niggling one percent, the one she mentioned in her drunken, potentially lesbianic haze? Well it has now been officially taken care of. Susan is one hundred percent on board the Mike Train, destination: Nuptopia! Gabby smiles like she's happy for Susan, but there's a shadow there, too, and it's clear that Gabby's feelings about the Mayor have plummeted down to more like the fifty percent range. Gabby to Susan, with just a hint of rue: "That must feel really great." Sad!
Post-procreative-sex-session, Carlos is cooing about how great he feels about the new baby-making strategy, even though everyone they know is probably going to "make fun" of them. Edie, adjusting her shorty-short nightie to reveal even more cleavage (which is of course a magnificent sight, and yet...still something Voldemort-ish lingers around Edie's eyes, tainting her usual gorgeotasticality). Edie, smiling cutely at Carlos: "I'm so happy we're going to be living together. It's going to be so much fun!" Carlos doesn't answer, but he does shoot her a small smile, which is something. And then Edie heads off to the bathroom, where she...what? What does that horrible woman do? She hell of pops a birth control pill, with Sneaky music playing underneath! In short, she is totally lying to Carlos! And she so doesn't want a baby! Okay, I appreciate how this is great turnaround for all those months Carlos swapped out Gabby's birth control pills for placebos. It could almost be called...irony? And yet...poor Carlos!
And now for possibly the worst, most painful scene in the history of this show. Yeah, let's just get through this thing. Breathe. Breathe. Okay. So. Lynette is reading in bed, just minding her own business, when Tom skips in to announce that his back doctor has finally given him the green light to have sex. Lynette: "And what would that have to do with me?" Zap! Unfortunately, Lynette maybe isn't in the mood, yeah, not so much: "Remember when I giving birth to the twins and screaming in agony because Porter was dragging my uterus out with him? Well I was more in the mood for sex then than I am now." So Tom presents her with a choice: either she beds him in an intimate way, or she has to talk to him. In a startling demonstration of just how much she doesn't want to speak to her husband, Lynette jumps on top of him in a sexual pounce. The sex immediately turns violent, and Tom winds up with a nasty set of scratches across his chest -- and while often those kinds of scratches (the three bloody lines all in a row, like the swipe of a mountain lioness) can sometimes be a badge of mutually beneficial animal-style rutting, here they just kind of feel like evidence of an assault. Ugh! Tom sits up and gets right in her face and yells that he hasn't done anything to deserve Lynette's rageicide, and she spits that she knows all about his meeting with Tootie. Ugh, ugh, ugh! They yell, they scream, and then Lynette cuts loose with the heretofore unknown fact that Tootie didn't quit, she gave him the axe! "The idiot told me he had feelings for me," she screams, "which he never would have done if you hadn't pushed him, and now he's gone and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" And then she shoves him back down on the bed and he writhes, really squirms in agony. In a blind rage of pain and...I don't know what else, Tom bucks Lynette off the side of the bed, and she bashes her head on the side table. Domestic abuse, it turns out, isn't so sexy. Weird!
Down at the hospital -- and just think how many Desperate scenes begin with just those words. Lynette and Tom are in the waiting room, and Lynette is holding an ice pack to her the back of her head. The silence between them is fetid, dark, and corrupt. A nurse comes in to tell Lynette that they'll only have to wait a few more minutes; the doctor is examining her CAT scan right now. The nurse retreats, and Lynette bravados that there's no need to wait around, it's just a bump. Tom, quietly: "Lynette, you were dizzy and throwing up. You can't be too careful." Yeah, that's a concussion, right? Lynette: "Yeah? Well, I feel just fine now." Wow, they sure are in rough on this one, wow, wow. In a small, small, Lilliputian voice, Tom asks how Lynette responded when Tootie told her that he had feelings for her. Lynette, in a seasoned Whatever tone, explains that she told Tootie that his feelings were "inappropriate," and then she gave him the old heave-ho. But Tom doesn't leave it there. He just keeps pushing, and he asks whether or not Lynette has feelings for Tootie. Her face goes dead, and she pretends to not have heard. Tom pushes and pushes again, and Lynette sidesteps the question by declaring that she would never cheat on Tom, which isn't really what he asked...as he readily points out. She just shakes her head, shakes and shakes it, and the "Holy Shit" music swells, and Tom gasps, "Did you fall for him!?" Lynette closes her eyes and tucks her chin and slowly lets her face crumple into grief and, also...admission! Tom, devastated: "Oh, god!" Lynette, all business now (but with red, puddled eyes), turns to Tom and says, "Nothing happened. He's gone. It's over." But Tom doesn't believe her. If it's over, then why have they been at each other's throats and scratching each other's pectorals and bonking each other's heads on the side table? Lynette reaches for his hand, but he shakes her off, all, "Not now."
And now for the cancer scare that's hopefully going to put Tom and Lynette back on the path to togetherness (because I actually do hope these two manipulative Muppet Babies stick together, I really do). The doctor comes into the waiting room, and tells them he needs to see them both. Clearly something serious is going on here, and together, Tom and Lynette nervously walk into the doctor's office. First the good news: her goose egg isn't a concussion, but just a nasty bruise. And now, the potentially catastrophic news: the CAT scan also picked up something irregular about her nymph-nodes, and the doctor needs to conduct more tests. Lynette asks if this is cancer, and the doctor allows how lymphoma might be one possible explanation, but they'll need to run a biopsy to be sure. As the doctor shows them some hilariously incomprehensible slides, the Sad and Scary music swells, and this time Tom reaches out for Lynette's hand, and she grabs it fiercely. Aw, and now I'm crying. Again.
And sing it, MAVO! After some mumbo-MAVO about all the big and small questions we ask ourselves every day, etc., she starts dropping the big Qs:
"Will be I around to watch my children grow up?" Lynette tucks her kids into bed and then stands at the door, watching them with a steely, complicated forlornness. My friends? Felicity Huffman is hands-down the strongest male actor on this show.
, we see Gabby looking nervously on as the Mayor bosses around the flower guy. "Am I making a mistake by marrying this man?"
Edie watches Carlos (while he...hangs up a pair of pants? or something?), her arms crossed, her head on the doorsill. MAVO: "Could he ever truly love me?"
Susan and Mike curl up in front of the TV, and MAVO says, "And what happens when we ask ourselves the hard question, and get the answer we were hoping for? Well. That's when happiness begins." Aw, yeah. I know I go on and on about how much Susan annoys me, and how leaden Mike is, but I'm weirdly happy to see these two happy. Though maybe it's just end-of-season fatigue?
Up : It's the season finale, and Carlos discovers that liar Edie's stash of birth control pills, Lynette's mother pays her a surprise visit, and Bree is back in town. Hey Bree, did you happen to run into Karl while you were off the ABC lot? How about Zana? CreePaul? Felicia? Justin? Oh. Well maybe you could give them a message for us?