Vanessa's all about bumming around Europe with Nate this summer, but Nate's cousin -- on the Vanderbilt side -- shows up to convince him to reconcile with the family. Dan and Vanessa talk him into it, and accompany him into a world of privilege. Nate accepts an internship with Bloomberg's office, which freaks Vanessa out for somewhat valid reasons, but mostly acts like Dan 2.0 for a minute, which is just long enough.
Meanwhile, Blair's "meltdown" -- after Serena chases Carter away in seconds -- leads her to shoplifting and a freakout at the Vanderbilt party that sadly never goes anywhere. She gets drunk on champagne, calls out a few people in a hushed voice, lowers herself to trying to get into Sarah Lawrence, tries to have aggressive nihilism sex with Chuck, and then cries softly on a porch, all while looking particularly stunning. Nate comforts her, reminding her that her essential Blairness is awesome, so she pulls it together and decides he'll be spending the night. If anybody deserves Nate, it's Blair, and what is awesome is how it's taken two years for that sentence to make sense.
Bex the Art Dealer tells Lily she dated Rufus, which causes a silly and ill-advised comparisons of Sex Lists, which causes Serena to almost barf and call her mom a ho, which causes Lily to hide the half of the list Rufus doesn't know about, which he finds and of course causes him to act like Rufus Humphrey, which causes Lily to have a total flashback to what a giant fucking baby he is.
Chuck, Serena and Dan don't have a whole lot to do, but it's fairly awesome. Chuck and S chase around the city playing Where's Waldorf, and getting into hilarious conflict with Dorota, before they find them at the Vanderbilt party. S hilariously slaps Dan ("That was invigorating!") for sleeping with Rachel, then giggles and becomes his bestie again. Lovelorn Chuck, after getting slammed up against a wall and freaked out by Blair's fling with madness -- and openly explaining that she's totally turning into him -- realizes that he's lost her because she's chosen darkness or whatever. Serena sends him to try again, but he finds Nate's jacket there: B's hooking up with Nate again. But weirdly? You're kind of happy about it. week: Chuck/V try to disrupt B+N any way they can.
Fashion being so harsh, and Gossip Girl being so in charge, it should come as no surprise that even seasons go out of season: "Spring on the Upper East Side, where the winter chill is supposed to be so last season." But it's Groundhog Day for our little Upper East Siders, and they're still bundled up in mittens and scarves.
It's one of those regrettably sad and unfair circumstances one often encounters in life: that the cold can't just be shoved along to Brooklyn, where the people are hardier and more suited to disappointment. It snows on all the boroughs, or none; quiet acceptance of this fact is just another form of the noblesse oblige required of us all in these inexact times. Vanessa Abrams, exhibiting that curious educational insecurity that only the homeschooled can truly understand, offers her best friend a list of some other gloomy places where it snows sometimes. "Budapest, Bucharest, Dubrovnik..." her companion, Dan Humphrey, often draws from her the appreciative laughter of the idiot with the determined application of bon mots just such as these: "Oh, there's nothing like summer in the Eastern Bloc. Just a Eurail pass and a backpack full of failed socialist policies..."
Vanessa laughs, pointing out that her trip will also encompass -- not to say be entirely financed by -- the heavenly Nate Archibald. "Vienna State Opera one day, pierogies in Poland the ." (The dutiful reader will note that, to Vanessa and those like her, these experiences are equivalent.) "No map, no reservations, just total freedom." It is part and parcel of Vanessa's ways, this: to see homelessness and squalor in a foreign nation as some sort of glamorous escape from her life of absolute, pointless leisure. It is a truth universally acknowledged by those above such petty attachments that we devalue what we cannot have.
"And Nate is super excited, too!" The dutiful reader will note that, to Nathaniel, inhalation and exhalation are every bit as "super exciting" as traveling to the Eastern Bloc with a Williamsburg blockhead, but Daniel -- never one to let a greedy opportunity for comparison of any kind slip by, most especially when the subject is the affections of one Mr. Nathaniel Archibald -- awkwardly segues to Nate's probable increased excitement with regard to the college basketball game they'll be watching together shortly. Now now, girls.
Nathaniel stands on the sidewalk, lending an ear to a tall man's vociferous exclamations as they approach, leaving behind all thought of their jealousies: who is this stranger speaking to their Nate? Why, it is his cousin Trip (as in III, to wit: hasn't even a proper Christian name to call his own), attempting desperately to entice Nathaniel back to the ancestral manse (known more properly in these parts as Aunt Helen Rosemond's house from Cruel Intentions) for their family reunion. Nathaniel introduces Trip to his friends, and they inform the terrible twosome of their dilemma: While Trip is assured that their grandfather, William van der Bilt (as in Vanderbilt, to wit: couldn't get Anderson Cooper to guest star), would be overjoyed to see Nathaniel at the reunion, the younger cousin retains certain reservations relating to his destitution, in which the van der Bilts took little to no interest until the boy's near-kidnapping at the hands of his father, the Captain. He shines his cousin on with the natural God-given gift of his vagueness and near-oblivious hangdog expression, and Trip reluctantly leaves them to their pursuits. While Nathaniel attempts to continue their day's entertainment smoothly and gracious -- as a good host should, and as such, is his wont -- Vanessa and Nate worry and pry endlessly. As is theirs.
Charles Bass, informally known to friends and prostitutes far and wide as "Chuck," enters his erstwhile sister's bedroom, pretending to speak to someone on her lost cell phone. Serena van der Woodsen is exasperated but possessed of a healthy affection for him nonetheless, as Chuck explains that he was searching it for any new or changed numbers for their friend Blair Waldorf. Since of course her contact information has not changed in the last 24 hours, Serena suggests that he assumes Blair is currently disinclined to speak with him. "I went to see her last week," Charles reveals. "She never came home. It's not like our girl to be out all night, I know something's going on. This is more than her having her dirty laundry aired on Gossip Girl." Serena nods, her hair untamed as a prairie horse and twice as beautiful, and reveals to him that Blair has now been rejected for matriculation by Dean Berube, of Yale University, for the seventy thousandth and final time.
"The only thing she wanted more than me," Charles muses. "That would be painful." Serena spares him a flash of her eyes for this admittedly endearing sentiment, but underscores her rôle in this story, as caretaker: "Chuck, she's embarrassed. So we just need to give her some time to lick her wounds." Charles immediately replies with a suggestion that shall not be reprinted here, as scandalous in its implication as it is questionable in its logic, and Serena pushes her brother from the room by force -- by two feet of height, at least, his master -- and dials Blair's voicemail for herself.
Art buyer Bex Simon, last seen taking personal interest in a small gallery owner named Rufus Humphrey, sits on the divan with his past and current mistress, the lovely and not entirely secretly pregnant Lily van der Woodsen-Bass. Her newest quarry: an untitled Cecily Brown piece from 2007, a lovely abstract in pink and white, as shown on her laptop. As perspicacious Reader Ezra notes, is a perfectly timely and appropriate choice both by Bex and for her client. Brown is au courant, perfect for the fashion-forward and house-proud widow, and furthermore known for her style, which presents abstracted figures usually in a state of frenzied undress. And so Bex mentions it for the bedroom, before their conversation is interrupted by a telephone call from Rufus.
While Mrs. van der Woodsen-Bass puts her lover off with well-meant inanities, Miss Simon is seized by a sudden discomfiture. Upon the end of the call, she makes up her mind and speaks. "Lily, I just want to thank you for handling this so gracefully. The whole Rufus thing..." Lily nods, not quite understanding yet her implication. "The whole 'Rufus and I used to date' thing?" Lily stares at her for a moment before recovering, and assures Miss Simon she is fully aware of the complications in their romantic history, and they return gratefully to the picture. "So you were thinking above the bed?"
Nathaniel retires to the parlor, remote in hand, excited to have hunted and captured the elusive "four games at once" goal to which he'd previously set for himself. He sits, and his two friends stare at him, clearly having discussed and come to a conclusion about his reticence regarding his familial obligations. Vanessa asks once if he won't reconsider, and Daniel suggests that though the van der Bilts "weren't cool to" Nathaniel and his mother in their time of need, it seems clear now that Trip is attempting to make amends. "Unless he's armed with an engraved apology from my grandfather," Nathaniel assures them, "I do not care." Vanessa sits, brow furrowed with well-intended condescension, and attempts further chastisement. "They're making an effort now," Nathaniel admits, "But where were they when we needed them?"
Vanessa resorts to an emotional appeal. "You've told me about your summers with your cousins, about your grandfather teaching you to sail. How much you used to look forward to Christmas." Nathaniel is stricken by memories of comfort and luxury, for a moment, before the memories fade and his eyes go blank again. "You loved them. Now, if you really don't want to go, fine. But don't pretend you don't care." Her sentence structure having been perhaps a bit too taxing, Nathaniel stares at her -- this strange lovely creature from across the bridge -- and briefly attempts to remember what they are discussing.
In the Bedford Avenue Gallery, its proprietor and head moral administrator admits to Mrs. van der Woodsen-Bass that his relationship with Miss Simon was shallow at best. "You might have mentioned that," Lily snips, "Considering that she works for me. It was humiliating." Rufus turns a blind eye to his beloved's discomfort: "Well, I've been meaning to tell you." Mrs. van der Woodsen-Bass ironically notes that they spend time only with one another, ignoring their children altogether, and wonders at his time management acumen. At this, he makes a strangled and not altogether unattractive sound of defeat. "Are there any other exes I should know about?" Lily asks, hurt pride making her words starker and more harsh than perhaps intended: "My trainer, my accountant?"
Rufus immediately, as is his custom, reverses the line of questioning, pointing out that they have never assembled for each other, or demanded from one another, lists of their past romantic attachments. Lily, outpaced by her pride, offers in a moment of pique to create one for him that very day. Rufus, realizing he has overextended them both, attempts to retract the accusation, but she'll have none, eyes flaming. "Do you think I wouldn't?" Once again, Rufus asks that they leave the topic far behind, but Lily smiles, hard as the chandelier-crystal teardrops hanging from her ears. "Let's make lists!" Rufus says her name, just once, but he's pushed too far to turn back now. "Look, you clearly have some idea about my past, and I'd prefer to dispel them. And this way I won't be blindsided again. Unless, of course, there's something that you don't want me to know." It is a form of kindness on Lily's part to even admit as hypothetical the concept of Rufus keeping any secrets at all; he wears his emotions and his thoughts upon his bangs. Cornered, Rufus gives his assent, though he warns her that only disaster can result. She smiles, leaving a flowery laugh behind her, though they both know he is correct.
Meanwhile, a car arrives among a multitude of identical towncars and limousines outside the van der Bilt country estate. Within, however, is precious and unusual cargo: Nathaniel Archibald, the awkwardly exiting Vanessa, and for some reason Daniel Humphrey, preceded by the jutting teeth of a Brooklyn rube. "Whaaat?" Dan expostulates, as usual driven so insecure and strange by prosperity that he loses all composure. "Nate, you said it was a mansion, not a country club!" Trip approaches, relieved beyond reason to see his cousin, and Dan modulates his voice hysterically downward in order to greet Trip in a properly gruff manner. A helicopter flies low overhead, leading Daniel to assume that it's a medical conveyance winging hospitalward, and Trip manages just barely to absent his voice of any condescension: "It's not a Medevac, it's, uh, Grandfather's ride." Daniel and Vanessa gape predictably.
Trip, caught up in the excitement -- and his true goal, which should even now be apparent -- gushes to his cousin that their grandfather will be overjoyed to see him. It is quickly discovered that, though Grandfather William will in fact he happy to see his grandson, it was not precisely his idea to invite Nate here today. Nate turns to run -- "I came to give him a chance, and he didn't even want one?" -- and Vanessa hauls him back, away from the car. The dutiful reader, as well as Nate himself, will of course note that his life of Continu'd Variety, which has made of him Twelve Times a Whore, Several Times a Virtual Wife, Robbed Often by Thieves, and Once Transported By a Felon -- though he's always Liv'd Honest-- means he's never entered a scene and not left it sold, body and soul; and will of course take care to consider exactly who will be doing the selling in this episode, and why. Such is Nate's fate: To be led, by his greatest impulses and immaculate good nature, time and again to the slaughter.
Nate stares at the helicopter sadly as it lands, and as he finally steps toward it, Trip relaxes in clear relief. Grandfather William calls out his name and then -- under the held breath and watchful eyes of the family tree -- embraces him excitedly. The family, and not for the last time, bursts into applause at this gesture; Trip pats his cousin's back in gratitude, feeling for the first time in a long time a corresponding lessening of his own familial burden. As Vanessa and Dan watch the van der Bilts herd themselves into the mansion around them, dividing like a flood, even Gossip Girl alludes to this sacrificial lamb: "Looks like V is leading a lost lamb back to the flock..."
"...And C is coming to B, sheepishly bearing gifts," that mysterious lady gloats (or goats) as Chuck makes his ingress Chez Waldorf. "I would have been here sooner," he says, eyes alight and brandishing a small present, "I stopped to pick up a little something." Blair Waldorf lounges indolently and indecently in her altogether, with a studied air of disinterest and boredom. "How thoughtful," she says, placing it beside herself on the sofa without a look. "Serena thinks you're in some kind of trouble." Miss Waldorf sips her drink, as he continues: "Seems to me your only problem is having a party all by your lonesome."
The rogue Carter Baizen appears, rolling up the sleeves of a shirt still unbuttoned, and kisses Miss Waldorf with a drink in his hand, to Chuck's unease, pointing out that she is anything but alone. "What are you doing with this insect?" Chuck asks, and her eyelids dip in telegraphed dissolution. "Having the time of my life, thank you very much." Carter's hand curves against her shoulder, and she strokes it easily. "Well, as much as I enjoy bursting your bubble, he's just using you to get at me." She affords Chuck a withering look in response. "Ask him about his role as a kidnapper for a certain secret gentleman's club," Chuck suggests. "I should know, I had him expelled." Carter sighs and points out that his involvement with Nanny Elle amounted to the simple act of conveying her to "a waiting pile of cash," which it is common knowledge she accepted before leaving the city without Chuck in tow. Chuck tries again to warn her off, but she robs him of his words.
"What," Blair spits. "Dishonest? Bad news? He can't be any worse than you," she says, and Chuck solemnly promises he's only trying to help. "Help me? Is that what you were doing at your little 'gentleman's club,' while my life was going up in flames? I'd rather take Carter's help." She smiles meanly, and cutely, with Carter's hand at her sumptuous throat. Chuck makes his egress as Carter kisses her once again, as a prelude no doubt to more scandalous activity, and Gossip Girl rings the clarion call once again. "We hear Carter Baizen's dealt Chuck another losing hand. But rest assured, Upper East Siders, Chuck always has a card up his sleeve..."
William leads the motley crew of fellows through the halls of the estate, pointing to first one and then another of the busts, paintings and other monuments to the van der Bilts' storied history of distinguished public service. Nathaniel knows the story by heart, relating to his bosom companions the tale of Johannes van der Bilt's arrival in the Americas 250 years ago, and his discovery of a rich coal vein in Pennsylvania. William smiles grandly: "You can understand why we're proud to be celebrating our family's anniversary this weekend: We started with almost nothing." Dan identifies with this, but cannot possibly understand the riches that generations of hard work have brought the family in the interim. We leave this world as we arrive in it, one supposes.
"Nathaniel," Williams says excitedly, "Let's show your friends the Presidential Medals of Freedom!" Dan fairly hoots with excitement, to Vanessa's delight, and we find these four a few minutes later in a lovely forest-green office on the ground floor. William asks after Nathaniel's plans for the year, after their graduation from secondary school, and his grandson is forced to admit that, due to his father's continual and debased interruptions, his college applications and essays were not given their due attentions. "Another unfortunate byproduct of that regrettable situation," William nods. "Which, I might add, you handled admirably." Nathaniel is pleasantly surprised -- and characteristically confused, of course -- by this patrician approval. "Admirably? I thought you were ashamed of me," he says quietly, unable to look into his grandfather's eyes. "On the contrary, I've never been more proud. You stood by your mother, you got your father to do what was right." Provoking a smile and curt giggle from his grandson, he continues: "I used to worry that you got her looks and his brains, but you proved me wrong on that. You're a part of this legacy too, Nathaniel." Summoned by these words as though by a bell, Trip enters, inviting them all to a game of touch football on the manor green.
Blair and Serena peruse the handbags and accessories on offer at VBH, as Blair attempts to communicate to her dearest friend the sea change engendered by these latest defeats. "Do you know how exhausting it's been, being Blair Waldorf for the past eighteen years?" Too much for any one person to bear, for certain. "All the work, the planning?" Serena smiles, correcting her: "You mean plotting?" Blair nods: Exactly. All of that manipulation, born of desperation and frustration, until she saw her dearest companions as nothing more than tools, or prey. "I'm glad it all blew up in my face. It was a wake-up call! I was such an overachiever I was headed for a quarter-life crisis at eighteen!" True, but one would think endemic, essential to her character. Serena's jeweled blouse is lovely and catches the eye, while Blair's raucously patterned jacket makes her point -- that she has been driven to the very brink -- more eloquently even than her words.
"Oh, B. you've had a couple of setbacks, but there must still be a way to get into a great college. And if anyone can do it, it's you!" Serena smiles at Blair, expecting the ice to melt as it has perennially, in every other crises, but Blair's voice is hard as steel. "No, S. I've learned the hard way. I can't control everything, plan everything... Now, with Carter's help, I'm trying something different." She thinks, a distasteful plan forming in her hazy, turbid mind. "In fact, if I'm somewhere and I can say Blair Waldorf would never do that, guess what? I'll do it," she says, revolutionarily placing a pair of sunglasses on her face and picking up her purse. Serena reminds her of course that she must pay for her purchase, and Blair smiles wildly. "So call security!"
Serena immediately dials her brother. "Hey. We have a problem." Chuck nods smoothly, assuming the worst, and blames Carter Baizen. "He's encouraging the worst in her," Serena worries, and Chuck laments his private investigator's current lack of extortable materials. Serena immediately offers her own questionable history, although she is loathe to explain this before the game has begun: "Tell him you want to see him." And when he asks what she has to offer, she rings off with a repeated exhortation for Chuck to follow her instruction.
Returning home, she finds her mother Lily at the dinner table, making lists. Did you and Blair find anything you like at VBH?" One presumes, of course, that she means items for purchase, over and above Bruce Hoeksema's hot ass. "Well, Blair certainly did," Serena says, referring to the purloined sunglasses, and asks her mother about the lists. Lily is embarrassed, not for her romantic history -- of which her children are of course painfully aware -- but for yet another childish pursuit born of Rufus's dramatic emotionality and her own pride and stubbornness. "Just reminiscing," she says, and Serena notes a few names ("Why is Bart's name to Trent Reznor and the C/Klauses?") before dropping the thing soundly to the table below.
" ...Oh my God, Mom, what is that?" As Lily attempts to circumvent her child's horror, Serena begs her not to answer. "It's... a long story. Between me and Rufus." Serena immediately ascertains that her mother, against all reason and decorum, plans on giving Rufus Humphrey this information. With a refreshing lack of judgment, they both worry blondly at Rufus's probable response to the length of the list itself, far and away more startling than its contents for the most part. Lily embarrassedly explains that she's been hounded by the conversation into an implacable position and cannot now back down. And though it must be admitted that her explanation does make a certain sort of sense, one considers it more important to consider the benefit, to us both as children and as a nation, when such sterling examples of romantic maturity are set so publicly in plain sight. The forces at work in Serena's relationships are brought ever more starkly into relief whenever Lily allows Rufus to interrupt her logical mind this way, for one example.
Serena rolls her eyes slightly as she peruses the list, and when her mother asks whether Rufus can be expected to judge her harshly, Serena will say only, "I think you should just sneak a peek at his little black book before you drop the Yellow Pages on him! Just make sure your numbers are on par." Lily nods, at this commonsensical advice, and Serena pauses again before eructating in horror: "Slash? Seriously?" Lily gives a cute smile that might remind all those who lived through the '90s and survived to tell the tale, that indeed, Slash -- of the bacon-scented hair, the musty top hat -- was once considered attractive and that further, a certain yearning riff -- as performed outside a small country church, on a dirt road, far away in the countryside, on a cold November day -- could still whisk one back to those halcyon days, if reviewed with the proper mindset. Perhaps.
That old beloved MGMT standard "Kids" lofts over the van der Bilt football game, as all-American boys run mindlessly around the yard wearing their best and most expensive outdoor wear, like an advertisement for White Anglo-Saxon Protestants and their reunions. The game intensifies, as in Knowles's "Blitz Ball," and soon enough the limb is jounced: Trip throws Nate to the grass, clipping Daniel as he passes. William watches the proceedings without passing judgment, even as Nathaniel demands justice for the foul. William asks his grandson disarmingly, "You want me to call that?" And Daniel, taking the part of his friend as ever, notes that they are engaged in touch football, and not rugby. Nathaniel takes his grandfather's message to heart, shaking it off: this is how the van der Bilts play ball. Daniel reminds him that he can quit at any time, but Nathaniel commits himself again to their endeavor. Such as it is, this is what it means to be a van der Bilt.
And as the song reflects passionately on Nate's dilemma -- Control yourself/ Take only what you need from it -- Trip's fiancée Maureen joins Vanessa on a balcony overlooking the game. "I remember my first time here," she says sympathetically. "Intimidating." They introduce themselves, and Vanessa agrees with her statement. "I feel like a Republican at the Kennedy Compound!" (The dutiful reader will note that the comparisons of Vanessa Abrams to California's Austrian-born, uncouth governor do not end there.) Maureen reassures her possible future sister-in-law: "Oh, don't fret. Everyone loves you. They're probably already designing the campaign posters."
(A family of trees wanted/ To be haunted) Vanessa looks at her a moment, realizing that she's been trapped somehow, and asks her interlocutor to elaborate. "I assume you saw the Hall o' Governors? Politics is a van der Bilt birthright. And with Nate's charm, and your background..." Vanessa's lovely and multiethnic brows threaten to hurl themselves heavenward from her face, and she begs Maureen's pardon, but Maureen is unflappable and kind in her intentions: "Nate mentioned you're kind of an activist in your community. A documentary filmmaker?" Vanessa calms down, grateful for this evidence of our continuing development as a nation, and to her credit is able to evade the clutches of this flattery. For even one person to take her seriously as a "documentary filmmaker" surely rates this day high above all others, but never shall we let it be said that Vanessa couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and come up with complaints about its carbon footprint.
"Oh, yeah. Well, I think you've been misinformed. The only thing Nate's ever voted for is American Idol." (And I would have said Carrie Underwood, for obvious reasons, but now I'm thinking Lambert, for obviouser ones.) Maureen smiles knowingly -- The memories, like looking through a fogged mirror -- and extends still more empathy: "Trip was the same way. He wanted to be an archaeologist in college, like Indiana Jones. Now he's Law Review at Yale..." -- and reader, forgive her, because that phrase is nonsense -- "...And about to clerk for the Supreme Court. Grandfather can be very persuasive." They turn again, to watch the game, and Vanessa reflects.
Decisions to Decisions are made and not bought
But I thought this wouldn't hurt a lot
Nate and Trip fight it out, Nate bursting forward suddenly ahead of all his kin, for a final touchdown. William claps his grandson on the back as he's grinning at Dan. "Welcome to the thirty years," Maureen says proudly, and a little wistfully; Vanessa's lips grow tight, without a smile at all.
I guess not
Chuck stiffly welcomes Carter Baizen into the house of Prada, where he expresses surprise that Chuck has "waved the white flag so soon." He downs an expensive drink proffered by the presumptive loser of the battle, and Chuck confirms that Carter's liaison with Miss Waldorf was only ever an attempt to get at Chuck. "Goes down almost as easy as you did," Carter says, but of their former and possibly ongoing associations we shall not speak, deeming it as unseemly as it is intriguing.
And though it was only a step in a game between these two louche rakes, Carter admits that Miss Waldorf was a surprising companion. "That girl certainly knows how to let loose. Victory never tasted so sweet," he says, taking much pleasure in this multi-leveled statement's bilious affects. Carter raises the bottle from which he was served, asking Chuck's pardon to take it away with him. "Blair's meeting me at a party, and it's not the kind of place she should be left alone," he explains, just as Serena makes her entrance, whisking it from his hands again. "Actually, I don't think you're gonna be making that," she says, and Carter employs a certain sort of low-level wordplay ("What's this? Good Cop/Bass Cop?") to cover his surprise. "Blair needs to regroup, so you need to bid adieu."
Serena presents Carter with a cardstock airplane ticket to Dubai, which causes him to laugh. "Nice try, but I'm having too much fun. Nothing's gonna get me to leave town." Serena, whose hair is still as glorious and unfettered as the goddess below it, mentions their sojourn in Santorini, mentioned once before long ago. (All we remember is that Carter woke up alone.) He grits his teeth as Serena asks him how Miss Waldorf will react to that secret story. "The Greek guy, Spiros? The Greek police?" She holds up her phone, which contains contact information for those selfsame police officers. "You wouldn't," Carter blurts, and she swears she would. "But I won't if you leave town now. Alone."
Carter offers that he has plenty to hold over her head from that vacation as well, but as Chuck stares on he considers her offer and accepts. Over his shoulder, he gives one last parting bit of advice: "If the two of you think that getting rid of me is going to magically change back your friend, think again. I'm just a symptom of the disease, not the cause." And though Chuck does attempt to learn more about this mysterious exchange, Serena ignores his questions and sets off once again to find Miss Waldorf, who at this precise moment is nearing a strange townhouse and ringing the bell. "Enter at your own risk," Gossip Girl warns, as Miss Waldorf draws herself up sharply at the door. She is frightened, and a little ashamed. Unsure of what she'll be asked to do, or how she'll be degraded, but knowing that this downward spiral cannot continue, she stares into the house as the door opens, offering only a quiet hello to the denizens within.
Rufus sips at his champagne as the girl takes the dinner plate, grown frustrated and impatient. They agree that the trading of lists should best be accomplished before their bevy of children arrive, and Rufus offers to go first, as Lily assumed and intended. As he hands it over and her eyes fall upon it, he giggles nervously, like a boy. "Is it all right?" he asks, after long silence and widened eyes. Lily fumbles at her purse, producing just one page of her infinite list, and he stares at the page for a good long time. "Oh, here I am," he laughs, in a fashion that isn't exceedingly kind, and Lily rolls her eyes. He explains -- as though it's an apology, and not further injury -- that he's relieved her list is as short as it is. Anxious to be done with this, Lily swears she doesn't take his meaning in "the wrong way," even though careful analysis reveals there is only one way to take his meaning, wrong as it is, and they agree finally to bid adieu to the whole bloody mess. As if Rufus has ever demonstrated even the slightest ability to let even the slightest thing go.
Dan returns to the DUMBO loft quite the worse for wear, and as Vanessa morosely closes the door behind them, his sister Jenny asks what happened. "It's called getting to know the van der Bilts. Turned out to be less Gatsby and more Fight Club." He sits, stiff and groaning, and assures the multitudes that did not ask that he is fine, and will soon recover. Vanessa reminds him that the grandfather has invited them to tomorrow's reception at the country house, and Jenny chortles, resorting to the only language she understands: fashion, and product placement. "Oh, 'reception at the country house." That's very blazer-and-chinos. Do you want me to overnight you a Repp tie from Bluefly?" Dan repudiates her clumsy attempt at advertising in the middle of their very lives, and sends her off for a cold compress.
"So," Daniel says once they are alone, "Spill it." Vanessa pretends to ignorance a moment, but the length of their association has afforded them not only self-reinforcing approval of their very worst traits, but also a level of familiarity with each other's character that would send a normal person screaming on the heath. "Come on, the minute we dropped Nate off, you just... You clammed up, and you got that look on your face." Jenny reappears with a sports pad -- "Here. Cold." -- and tosses it onto her brother's lap, agreeing: Vanessa has "the look." Weighing out the possibilities, Vanessa chooses the opportunity to expound on her sincere and serious relationship with Nate, with whom Jenny was once and still may be in love.
"You're right. When I encouraged Nate to reconnect with his family, I had no idea it came with such expectations. And it just sounds like Nate's grandfather lays out your life for you." Dan laughs -- "They're the van der Bilts, not the Corleones!" -- and Jenny sits, preparing herself for something epic. Vanessa realizes she may sound funny, but fears that Nathaniel will be processed by "the family sausage grinder" and formed into another Trip. Which is of course the family's goal, but more specifically Trip's goal: to offer Nate as his replacement, in order to win back a bit of his own life. Jenny asks why Vanessa doesn't just discuss this with Nate himself, but Vanessa explains her sound logic: "He just got his grandfather back in his life, and he seems really happy. And the last thing I'd want to do is say something that might keep them apart." Daniel, blinded by love, describes Nate as a "pretty understanding guy," which is true, "when he's not maiming people on the football field," which is after all laughable. He advises Vanessa to be honest, and she cocks her head at him, as if to request a definition of the word, before asking him to use it in a sentence.
Serena and Chuck chase Dorota through Blair's house, demanding to know where she is. Dorota is steadfast, of course. "I am sorry, but Miss Blair very specific. No tell Mr. Chuck. But if Mr. Chuck come, tell him Mr. Carter is more attentive to a woman's..." Chuck interrupts, disclaiming his penchant for playing "Where's Waldorf" all night, and asks Dorota how much money it will take. Predictably, this drives Dorota through the roof, and she unleashes a torrent of Polish invective on the boy. ("Are you crazy, brat? I'm working for Miss Blair, not you. You think you can buy me?")
Of course, it takes Serena to calm her down again, asking if Dorota hasn't noticed the so-called changes. Dorota, nods, irritated: "Yes, it is old Miss Blair then new Miss Blair, like it was old Miss Serena, now new Miss Serena..." Serena accepts that, and simply states the facts: "Blair is at a party right now alone with some very bad people. We just want to help her. Please." Dorota stares.
Nate and Vanessa meet at the Bedford Gallery that same evening, and he reassures her that, though William is strong of will, so too is he. He promises nothing will change, and kisses her, but they are interrupted by the buzzing of his phone: Trip, summoning him to a late meeting with their grandfather. He claims that he's busy, on a date, and sends his love and apologies. Vanessa's pleasure shades itself to guilt and she immediately suggests that he go to his grandfather. "But we're eating pierogies!" he smiles, and she promises him they'll eat them this summer, the real thing, in Warsaw and Moscow and Budapest. He smiles dimly. "Summer Pierogie Tour '09!" and they laugh, because their undeniable chemistry has always located itself somewhere far from conventional humor or cleverness. He thanks her, kissing her and standing up to leave, reminding her of the reception tomorrow. "Have fun," she says, and stews once he is gone.
She fills her days and nights with business and now
She finds she cannot sit silently or still
And we don't notice that her cheek is glistening
And we are close but still there's distance
Serena and Chuck run to the door of the strange townhouse, and Serena presses the button impatiently, again and again. A little girl answers the door, and Chuck immediately assumes the worst, for which -- given his recent storylines -- we cannot blame him: "Looks like Polanski's in town." Worriedly, he shoves past the presumptive child whore and into the house, where Blair is fully dressed and throwing herself on a strange man's mercy. Chuck says her name, and as she's staring at him in confusion, the man offers her a handkerchief for her tears: "Miss Waldorf, as I was saying, I met with you as a favor to your headmistress, but Sarah Lawrence cannot accept someone who has hazed a teacher."
Blair swears that her unforgiveable sin of inviting someone to the opera an hour late was a one-time mistake, an aberration, and calls him "Dean Wheeler." Realizing their error -- for say what you will, even Sarah Lawrence is a far cry from a brothel -- Serena and Chuck manage to look appropriately cowed. "Colleges stopped accepting applications months ago. Please? I don't have any other options..." The Dean apologizes again, and Blair forces her way out of the hose, past them all; Charles follows, worried, and Serena stops her in the street. "B, why didn't you tell us?" Blair's face is a mask of rage and hilarious disgust: "What, that I was coming to debase myself by begging to be accepted at Sarah Lawrence? Gee, you're right, why didn't I update my Facebook page?" Chuck offers approval at this sign of the old Blair; Serena as well, but for a different reason: "I knew you wouldn't give up." Blair corrects her: that time has now arrived. She storms away, warning them not to follow her, and they stare after. "Poor B couldn't spin this one in her favor! Looks like now, she's spinning out..." If only, Gossip Girl. You promise the whirlwind, and produce the balmiest of breezes instead.
The day, Serena and Charles have arrived at the van der Bilt reception, for reasons known only to Chuck, who has learned from Dorota that Blair has fled to the country, for reasons unknown. They spot her immediately across the crowd of van der Bilts, as Chuck suggests Blair has decided to relaunch herself into blueblood society. Serena wears a lovely blue dress, with the obligatory plunging neckline, while Blair wears a black striped tight number, and strings of pearls with golden nautical charms around her neck. Serena gives immediate approval of Blair's look, which includes dark red baby-doll lips and is in fact quite stunning, and Blair nods. "I feel great." From this statement alone they should infer their cue: to fetch the big butterfly net post haste.
"I realized that while we can't tear out a single page of our life, we can throw the whole book in the fire," Blair quotes George Sand (her imaginary Yale dinner guest, if you recall): "She understands me. And what better place to go up in smoke than in front of the crème de la crème of New York society?" A woman approaches to condone her rejection of the Colony Club, laughing that they're too stuffy for her tastes as well. "That's because your tastes include sleeping with your driver and popping prescription meds!" she says, sending the woman off with a simpering grin. Serena steps in to stop her, but she's on a roll, bringing up the secret sex between Dan and Rachel during the play last week. Serena is understandably thrown, and Blair shines insanely. "By the end of tonight, the old Blair Waldorf will be dead and buried, with no chance of resurrection. Hey! You, garçon with the bubble butt. Arrête!" she shouts, charging after him. Serena's mind is blown, and Chuck jumps into action, sending Serena after Dan while he tries to keep "this social eulogy" from getting further out of hand.
Nate enters, with Vanessa and Dan trailing behind so they can make a joke about security checks and her tiny cute purse. "I can't even put my lipstick in here," she complains, so what would she be smuggling in? "Liberal agenda? Universal health care? Education reform? Increase in the estate tax?" They clap themselves on the back so heartily that one of the van der Bilts concludes they are choking on canapés, and in the blink of an eye both their tracheas have been stabbed open using a set of bejeweled platinum letter openers, a gift from the Kaiser in 1903. William approves of the cut of Nate's crest-monogrammed sport jacket: "Thank you, it fits perfectly," says Nate, and William foreshadows some more. "Of course it does." He welcomes Dan back to the house, and apologizes for the roughhousing yesterday; Dan's natural stammery charm comes through as he assures William that he's always wanted a football injury to impress the ladies. "Touch football?" asks Vanessa, and he gives a sweetly sheepish gotcha smile. William asks to borrow Nate, and absconds with him before receiving an answer. Dan and Vanessa go to find a drink -- drinks, in Vanessa's stressed-out case -- and Dan muses on whether the Humphreys even have a crest, that perhaps Jenny could stitch onto one of his cardigans.
Speaking of Humphrey cardigans, here's the Living Cardigan himself, Rufus Humphrey, calling in an order for Chinese and dipping into Lily's purse for the tip, only to discover the eighty-seven other pages of her whoredom shoved hastily into her Chanel billfold. "Rufus," she calls downstairs, "Do you need something?" As he stares at the numbers, self-righteousness rising in his gullet, he can only choke out a cowardly, subvocal "How about the truth?" Because why ever talk about anything, when resentment is so much more satisfying?
Let's ask Vanessa, who has a quick run-in with the ever more toxic/pathetic Trip van der Bilt at the champy station where he informs her that the meeting last night was about a summer internship William got Nate at the Mayor's office. Visions of pierogies dancing in her eyes, Vanessa assures Trip that he is mistaken, and he sort of bitterly agrees that somebody's obviously confused, and she stalks away. Nate grabs her, kissing her cheek, and there's a really great moment after she asks him if he's got anything to share where he sees it on her face and gets really guilty. After she demands that he turn down the internship, Nate counters that he hasn't made any decisions yet. She turns that around on him -- which is just cruel, to throw wordplay at him like this -- and says he's not in the business of making decisions at all, since William can do that for him.
Vanessa calls back to the halcyon days of earlier this week when he was cut off from his entire family and his only responsibility was to accompany her to whatever stupid country she wanted, and honestly seems to be confused about what's changed. He points out that it's an awesome opportunity, and she points out that the opportunity is for him to turn into Trip, which is bleak. He tries to explain that he still has no idea who he wants to be in five years, which is why he has to consider these things, and she Goes There.
"If this is something I honestly thought you wanted, I'd be happy for you." Which: you lose. How dare you say that anybody, ever? What a shitty thing to pull. She softens the blow by asking him if it's even possible that this isn't just about what William wants, to which he firmly and correctly responds, "As opposed to what you want me to do?" Vanessa gets sad, even though he's precisely right, and he apologizes, almost crying. "It's just... My grandfather believes in me." He walks away, and they both feel crappy.
Blair shoves physically into a conversation between two couples, drunkenly shouting, "So! What are we talking about?" They welcome her politely, and ask if Eleanor's around; she agrees that Eleanor should be here for the shit she's pulling, and one of the women burbles that Eleanor needs to call her, so she can commission a wedding gown. Crazy-faced Blair responds, "Oh, sure! Though I think she discontinued her third-trip-down-the-aisle, only-took-the-plunge-for-money line..." The other woman laughs nervously that Blair's clearly had a bit too much to drink, and B turns on her. "Oh, you would know! Three DUIs now, is it? Not that I blame you..." She turns to the husband: "Her way to escape the whispers that you made your money in adult entertainment websites." Chuck grabs her and hauls her out of there, but not before stressing what a big fan he is of the man's porn.
"You about done?" Chuck asks when they're alone, and she squares off proudly: "No!" He asks what she's doing, even though he knows, because he did the same thing after Bart. "Trying to destroy the old you, burn every bridge?" She grins. "It won't help. Believe me, I've tried." Awesomely, B stomps away, laughing that she should just climb on the roof to make it more dramatic, and he stops her. "This isn't you," he says, protesting that he knows her better than himself. "Oh, right," she says, slowing down and staring him in the eye like a snake. "You can see right through me." She leans in, not exactly lying and not exactly telling the truth, wielding it like a knife: "Can't you, Chuck? Right to my core." Which is why he has to go down, right now. She shoves him against the wall.
"Do you remember the first time you saw the real me? The Blair that danced for you that night at Victrola?" She puts his hands on her, but it's an accusation, too: that's when it changed, that's when she found out how free she really was, and made love with him in the limo. Maybe that was when it changed, she thinks, and things started falling apart. "The Blair with none of the hang-ups, none of the frustrations? That's the Blair right here." This is what you made me, she's saying.
Remember that seagull you shot? A man comes along, sees her, and destroys her life because he has nothing better to do...
She bites her lip, kissing him softly. "Take me. Now." He leans away to ask her why, but she's blurring underneath his hands, changing too fast to see properly. "To prove that nothing matters."
Hating it, he breaks the kiss and stares at her. "This isn't you. It's not the Blair I want." She nods: just as she suspected, always. She crossed the bridge to him, and he doesn't want it anymore. "That's right. And I never will be again." She gazes sadly at his mouth, and walks away. His breath is harsh as he leans against the wall, and she says goodbye. "The danger with calling someone's bluff is that even if you win, you risk them walking away from the table for good. And who wants to play with themselves?"
Nate finds Miss Waldorf in a closed-in porch, surrounded by the obsolete and broken. When he asks her what she's doing out there, she honestly doesn't know. He drapes his jacket over her shoulders, and stands quietly until she speaks, already calmed by his presence. "Do you remember the first time you brought me here? When we first started dating?" They were twelve or thirteen, he remembers. They spoke endlessly about their future, how perfect it would all be. He remembers, he's happy to remember. Her face twists, sad and appalled. "What happened? When did.... Everything get so screwed up? This isn't how it's supposed to be. I don't know who I am anymore. What I'm supposed to do." He nods; he supplies the word for them both. "Lost."
He sits with her, sad as she is, and thinks for a bit before smiling. "Do you remember when you used to make us watch your favorite movies over and over again? Like Tiffany's, and Holiday? It used to drive me nuts." Blair looks at him, a bit of that icy fire creeping back: "Is this a pep talk?" He grins and continues. "Well, I finally asked you why you liked watching movies you've already seen, and you remember what you said?" I like knowing how things are going to turn out. He smiles. "Exactly. You know, growing up, I never knew who I was supposed to be..." She looks at him, surprised as anyone once he starts talking; confused about what he's saying: "So I'd spend all my time apologizing for the privilege and the wealth and the opportunities I felt other people deserved more than I did." Almost crying himself, as the old, old shit comes up. "And you know what I'm finally learning? You can't fight against who you are. And you are Blair Waldorf." She smiles wonderfully, thanking him, and asks what happened to the old Nate Archibald, who just wanted to get high and play Halo. He laughs. He doesn't know.
Blair reconsiders him: he is good. He is off on a path parallel to hers, family in tatters, college almost insurmountable. He heads back inside; she opens her mouth to say one thing but offers him his jacket instead, with the sweetest smile. She looks at him, adoring him again, and he smiles a bit. And when he's gone, she straightens her back and tries to remember what it felt like, before everything happened. She is Blair Waldorf.
Serena finds Dan, and slaps him across the mouth before he can say hello; he's surprised into laughter, almost, asking why, and she starts strong: "I don't know, Newland Archer. Try to rack your brain a little." Dan realizes B told her about the thing with Rachel, and points out that they were broken up at the time, and still are. "Oh, so that makes it okay to have sex with a teacher?"
He points out that she wasn't his teacher, which is the wrong thing to say, because he knew how special she was to Serena, how special she made Serena feel: "No, she was mine. And you slept with her at school, during a play, with me probably twenty feet away." Dan agrees that it was sleazy, but he's caught out by something, some devious and wonderful smile lurking in the corner of her mouth. Why is she smiling? "I don't know! I'm mad! But that was invigorating!" Straight-up adorable. She jumps with a giggle as he laughs, charming as ever, and then notes the clutch of girls taking their picture in the corner. She shoves him affectionately, and drags him off to get some ice.
On the couch, Lily asks Rufus to watch her, make sure she doesn't glut on the egg rolls, or she'll feel guilty later. "Not likely," he whines, and finally she's like "Fucking what, already?" He drops the extra list pages on their dinner tray and she apologizes, slowly chewing and wondering what's going on in his pointy little head. "Let's just pretend like this never happened," he snits. "That's obviously what you wanted." Which, I kind of get his point, which is why would you even play a game if you're just going to cheat? That's confused me since I was a little kid, like, why even bother playing Monopoly or Scrabble or whatever if you're not going to follow the rules? What benefit is there to winning a game, or playing it at all, if you don't play fair?
Rufus says that's why he didn't condense his list, and Lily gives an awesome Come On Dude face: "Your list was a dozen people. How much more condensed could it have been?" Rufus's feelings are hurt in a whole new way, and he obstinately juts out his chin: "I'm not embarrassed about my past," he whines, giving her the whole argument right there: "No. You're just embarrassed about mine." Nice! I swear Lily van der Woodsen could run you over with her car and still make you feel like an ass, I love it. She's so right all the time, even when she's terribly wrong, which is all the time. "When you saw the condensed version, you told me you were relieved." And it was gross! He reconsiders. She drops her food and suggests that maybe it worked after all, and they learned exactly what they needed to know. He stomps off and away without speaking, like any grown adult would do after being called on his total and essential hypocrisy. And I hope she ate the shit out of those eggrolls too.
I am me, and you are you. We're Chuck and Blair. Blair and Chuck. The worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had... I will stand by you, through anything. Because I love you. You are Blair Waldorf. This matters.
Of course they're all simultaneously freaking out about the future and trying to figure out who they are before anybody figures out they've been faking it this whole time. That starts at graduation and never, ever ends. I really do like this. I mean, Vanessa's overreacting because we've seen plenty of relationships work no worse or better, even through these responsibilities, than anybody else. Anne loves the Captain still, and Rufus and Lily are so busy creating their own drama that they haven't even noticed that nobody really cares what they do or how it looks, and Serena's never given a single thought to that crap, so the question for Vanessa is whether she's even really going to be with Nate forever -- which as a teenager she can't help but assume -- because if she is, that's a whole other bridge to cross, but it all depends on Nate being who he turns out to be, and she's the one saying there are options available to him that he just shouldn't explore, which is gross.
And I mean, they're all in the same boat, no matter what school they go to or don't go to. Jenny managed to weather this entire crisis including actual homelessness without anybody really noticing, beyond Rufus making it all about him. But I will say that this show takes it lumps for being snarky and mean and all, but at heart they're all pretty loving people, who really just want everything to be cool. Even Blair won't mess with your shit if you don't make trouble, and she's needier than everybody else put together. It takes a cruelty not one of these characters possesses to truly leave someone behind, which means if you get left, you're the only one to blame.
Jenny plays kind best friend to Vanessa about her breakup with Nate, which may or may not even happened. "I don't know," V admits, "I just left. It was bad, whatever it was." That's so real, I love it. "It was a bloodbath, but I don't know if it means anything" is, again, an apt description of every day of high school and most of the rest of your life, especially on this show. Dan welcomes Vanessa cutely to "the world of Upper East Side grandparents," reminding her he's gone up against them himself, and even though he eventually charmed Cecile's socks off, those rich old folks are a lot tougher than they look.
Dan and Jenny -- who sadly looks at the pizza on the table and then shoves it away -- advise Vanessa to chill out and give Nate some space, because he's doing the work he's always been afraid of doing, and Jenny has a very wistful, sad edge when she adds the prerequisite "you guys belong together" at the end. Oh, girl. I miss Jenny, I'm so glad she's got an episode coming up. Vanessa snatches at the pizza, bemoaning the tiny food of rich people; Dan jokes that that's how they stay so rich, by only eating tiny food, and the girls obligingly laugh at his funny. When Jenny gets up to turn on some music, Dan promises Vanessa it's going to be okay, and she almost cries. I sort of wish she would call him right now.
When exactly was it that we, or I, started rooting so hard for Vanessa and Nate? I've always loved Nate and there's nobody else for him to date -- which makes the awesomeness of the end of this episode even more surprising -- and Vanessa, what they have done with her is nothing short of remarkable, because she hasn't changed an iota and yet still has become imminently palatable. I mean, there's no need for her to ever laugh about how annoying she is again, because you only get one of those jokes to make the point, but it's bigger than that. I guess it's just like anybody else, and you have to see enough of anybody's angles before they make sense, I mean, we just had to take it on faith through half the first season that Blair was something more than a dangerous psychopath, and look at her now. Yes, she's a dangerous psychopath. But also so much more!
Rufus comes back in and Lily, in her reading glasses and twisted sideways so we don't see her giant pregnant self, tells him to fuck right off on out of there, but he hands her a new list. It's on a napkin from some lame Rufus place, and he gestures nervously for her to flip it over. "Romance novels, Sonoma cabernets, Christmas tree ornaments?" He explains that's the only list he needs: "Things that you make you happy, or sad, or crazy." She takes off her glasses, touched, and he throws a little Rufus on it: "Although that last one would be kind of hard to condense." She smiles a little, although this episode did give her a little more crazy to deal with than usual. They apologize to each other for the whole stupid episode, and she asks how come his list was so short. "I know you were married for eighteen years, but you were the lead singer of a not entirely unpopular band." He nods sweetly, watching her with a funny face. "And I remember beautiful girls throwing themselves at you every night..." Simple. He was in love with her the whole time. She smiles, and he kisses her. "Springtime. A season for rebirth and new beginnings..."
"For some, it's a chance to turn over a new leaf," GG says, as Dorota comes downstairs to turn Chuck away. He begs to see Blair, and she tells him she's sleeping. "Can you tell her that I stopped by and that I have something I need to tell her?" he asks earnestly, in his pink bowtie, and Dorota softly promises she will, before her tone gets firmer: "In morning." He stands in the foyer, nervous and brave, and then spots something in the corner, and his face goes hard as steel.
She said she doesn't like it here, left everything back home
She was lost and bitter, broken and alone
Blair comes out into the bedroom in her robe, thanking Nate for bringing her home. She's soberer, happier, drowsy, ready for life again. Nate politely makes sure she's okay, and elects to leave.
She said she was a person before they brought her down
She was better than this dark relentless town
Blair takes his hand -- just like Chuck did Vanessa, that night long ago when she was in play -- and asks him to stay. Nate looks down at her hand, and agrees. "For others, it's the surprise of seeing something bloom..."
She had sold her future and buried who she was
And I said, I can make you feel it
Chuck holds Nate's crest-embroidered jacket in the foyer, staring up the stairs; he can't stop picturing them in his mind. His jealousy is boundless.
"But I am me, and you are you. We're Chuck and Blair. Blair and Chuck. The worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had... I will stand by you. Through anything. Because I love you."
She's blurring underneath his hands, changing too fast to see properly. To prove that nothing matters, after all. We all like knowing how things are going to turn out. Tonight, nobody can know that.
"But for yours truly, it's a reminder that on the Upper East Side, everything old can be new again." See you week for Jenny's Sweet Sixteen, the return of Poppy Lifton and the unbeatable Chuck/Vanessa team-up, and what looks like teenage orgies. XOXO.