We open in the blissful, sunny tornado of slack that is Frankie and Cameran waiting to leave for work. As they stand around and yap, Frankie says, "When I get fed up, I'm a huuuuge bitch." That's a bad start for the week, right there. Because there are two kinds of bitches -- the good kind and the bad kind. And the good kind, believe me, does not do that stupid thing where she has to tell you what a bitch she is. Frankie claims that this bitchy aspect of her personality been "slowly coming out lately." Slowly? Lately? Frankie apparently defines the space-time continuum slightly differently than most of us do. As Frankie talks, Cameran stares off into space, trying to wish herself out into the ocean and three feet underwater, where she might achieve the peace that can only be achieved through drowning. In a confessional, Frankie says that she realized after a while that she doesn't need any of the roommates, so if they don't like her, she doesn't care. "Fuck them, I don't need them," she says. As we go on here, you will see that clearly, Frankie is very sincere about this, and is not at all being Girl Who Is In Pain Oh Please Oh Please Ask Her About It Because It Is Her Favorite Topic. No. She really does not care about her roommates liking her. At all. AT ALL, people.
In the van with the rest of the weirdos, Cameran asks Frankie if she's got ten dollars. Testy and pissed, Frankie says that she has five, and that everything else is just big bills. She claims to have twenties, fifties, and a hundred-dollar bill. Am I missing something? Why the hell would she carry around cash like that? The only person I know who ever carries a hundred-dollar bill is my grandfather, and he can get away with it, because he's cool, and Frankie is not cool. Randy laughs, noting that "a simple 'no' would have sufficed," like, no kidding, you really didn't need to impress them with your wads of cash, there, Ebesnoozer. Back in the confessional, Frankie goes on some more about not needing to be friends with her roommates. Cameran -- providing the alternative (i.e. "non-crazy-ass") viewpoint -- interviews that Frankie "cannot make herself happy in San Diego." That's surprisingly astute for a girl who's wearing her hair that way. Indeed, Frankie has failed to grasp the fact that, much of the time, you will find yourself just as happy as you choose to be. Cameran calls Frankie's constant drama act "emotionally draining," and boy, I heard that. You can hear the glug-glug-glug all the way from the tundra of the Midwest.
Frankie is on the phone with Dave later, and she asks him how long he's been awake. "Twenty whole minutes," he coos, and she asks what he's doing. He says he was thinking about her. Presumably, he was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, sweating, his eyes wide open, shaking like a leaf. Frankie's bangs interview that Dave knows that things are emotional for her, and that he is trying to "make [her] be happier." I feel like the camera shot of Frankie's pink track pants that we get while she's on the phone is a little too intimate. Didn't really need the bikini-wax's-eye-view, thanks. While Frankie's thighs are on the phone, Jacquese is on the computer, peeved. He interviews that he needed to get to the phone because the keys were locked in the car, which he saw as slightly more urgent than Frankie's need to experience aural canoodling with her boyfriend. He asks Frankie whether she's going to be on the phone "for, like, a long long time." She clarifies that the keys are locked in the car, and then gives him the phone, saying, "Take the phone. I don't care." Because she's angry...again. Jacquese interviews that while no one likes conflict, "sometimes you can't let shit ride." Which is very true.
Later, due to the shit and the not riding, Jacquese and Frankie are still arguing about this, as she insists that "there's a lot of shit going on right now, and [she] needed to be on the phone." Right. To ask Dave how long he had been awake, because that's really, you know, pressing. Jacquese tells Frankie that they all have shit going on, so she needs to get over herself. She insists that she gave him the phone, so what does he have to be upset about? Ah, yes, it's the thing where you can treat people as pissy as you want, as long as you ultimately give in. Love that. That's a classic. Frankie starts to stomp off, and Jacquese calls out to her that he's sick of her saying what she wants and then leaving: "You did that shit in Greece. It's foul, Frankie." Yeah, "foul" is a particularly good choice of words. Frankie continues to yell at him, ending with "You'll get over it." "That's messed up," Jacquese says to Frankie as she retreats to her room. She certainly is wearing out the last of her possible allies, isn't she?
And then, the ironic shot of the card that says, "Sweet Lil Frankie." Subtle.
Later, Brad and Robin sit around chatting. Brad says, in an amusing example of understatement, that the "person with the most issues" out of all the roommates is Frankie. He interviews that he doesn't understand her. Yeah. Me neither, brother. "She just couldn't be trying harder to be completely different from everybody else," he adds. He's got the first part right, but that right there is a weird description of it, and unfortunately, it kind of falls into Frankie's self-selected Lip-Ring-Wearing Bad-Ass thing, when the fact that she's different is so not the issue. Brad tells Robin that if Frankie ever comes at him personally with the attitude she flashes at the group as a whole on a regular basis, they'll wind up having "a blowout." Robin interviews that Frankie has no good days -- Frankie only has really awful days. And from the way Robin seems to be structuring that statement, I suspect she goes on to say that Frankie's "good days" are just her days that are slightly less awful, but they don't show that. Robin tells Brad that she can't understand why Frankie seems determined not to be happy. They discuss Frankie's illness, and Robin concludes that, somehow, it has made Frankie "self-destructive." It would be interesting to think about whether that's basically what it is -- Frankie doesn't want to be happy, because she doesn't want her life to be good enough that she'll actually miss it if she dies. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've ever heard. It would be easier not to be afraid of dying if you sort of wanted to kill yourself.
Jamie and Frankie are cleaning the boat later, and Jamie asks Frankie if the hardest thing for her, growing up, was being sick. Frankie says no: the hardest thing was being an outcast and not having friends. Because that is all Frankie talks about, ever. She's like one of those people who can't stop telling you about the great B&B she visited in the Adirondacks, only Frankie's B&B is her sense of isolation. Jamie says that, for her, it was the cultural differences she experienced. Jamie interviews that she can't have particularly sophisticated conversations with her parents, because her Korean isn't all that strong, so there remains a "language barrier." That is indeed very sad, and would be really rough. Jamie tells Frankie that she has also always hated helping out at the store, because her mother is so unhappy there, and frankly "hates it." Moreover, she doesn't like seeing people being rude to her mother, which they are from time to time. Frankie stares at the boat, trying to imagine what it would be like to fret about actual insults directed at other people, rather than imaginary insults directed at yourself. Jamie tearily says that her parents can't quit the store, because they have Jamie and her sister to take care of. She interviews, with Candles of Sincerity behind her, that she's been inadequately appreciative about her parents' sacrifices for most of her life. Well, we all have, honestly, unless we've worked extra-hard not to be. "I would just like to pay her back," Jamie says. Back in her conversation with Frankie, Jamie says that it isn't possible for her parents to come visit her together. This is an opportunity, of course, to return the focus to Frankie, who says that her mom, stepfather, and sister are all coming to visit. Frankie says that she "can't wait" for her family to arrive. Mournful acoustic music connoting impending family visits plays, as a bird perches thoughtfully and thinks about pecking Frankie's eyes out.
Back in the house later, Frankie tells Brad that she's "so depressed," and has "no idea why." Because you're depressed! "Depressed" does not need a reason! It's like saying, "I have a cold, and I have no idea why." Because you have a cold! Ack. Anyway, Brad -- showing a lot more concern for Frankie than she deserves, really -- says that he can be the same way, sometimes finding that he has no energy and is totally miserable for seemingly no reason. Frankie pats her snake. He's the only one who understands. She gets back on the phone with Dave after a little more snake-watching. Dave asks her if she's okay, and she says she's "just sad." She says she doesn't get it, because she should be happy about the family visit, and she's still sad. BECAUSE SHE'S DEPRESSED! She interviews that her mind is "kind of a mess," and that she needs someone to help her. BECAUSE SHE'S DEPRESSED! Dave tries to cheer her up on the phone by telling her about a Halloween show that his band is playing this week. This makes her cry, and a confused Dave tries to explain that it's good that he's playing a show. Hee. Frankie says she knows it's good; it just makes her cry. BECAUSE SHE'S DEPRESSED! She interviews -- much more chipper than she is on the phone -- that Halloween is her favorite holiday (duh), and that it's the anniversary of her first date with Dave. So she feels morose. He apologizes and tells her on the phone that he won't tell her about any more shows he's playing. Yeah, that'll fix the problem. Good one, Dave. Frankie says that's not the problem, the problem is that (weep, weep) she doesn't want to miss any more of his shows. "Oh, that just sucks so bad," she snorfles as we fade out on a jack-o-lantern. Awesome. Frankie's not bad; she's just carved that way.
After the commercials, things are mournful and sad. Frankie interviews that she thinks having her family around will remind her of who she is. She uber-dramatically fondles their pictures on the wall, and then we see her go outside to greet them, because they have arrived at last. Frankie's sister Mamie hugs her on the steps. Mamie looks kind of like a prettier version of the Bee Girl, and I like her instantly. Frankie -- in one of the many fucked-up comments you're going to hear from her in this episode -- says that Mamie is like her "second mom," even though she's twelve. Well, that's great for Mamie. Because mothering your cutting, mentally and physically ill sister from the time you're a little kid won't screw you up at all. "She supports me and just wants me to be happy," Frankie says of Mamie. The ability to see a twelve-year-old strictly in terms of her tendency to support you is yet another breathtaking look into Frankie's genuinely screwy personal ethic. Abby and Perry, Frankie's mom and stepfather, look at the Frankie-Mamie reunion and try to seem pleased, although they're probably well aware that Mamie is already completely preoccupied with Frankie dying of CF or killing herself or becoming depressed, so the kid's probably even in more need of a rescue than Frankie, which is saying a lot.
Frankie shows the family around the house, complaining that the house is really dirty. Of course, as Sars pointed out in the forums, Frankie didn't seem to mind the dirty when she left a bloody knife in the sink, so I guess her personal fastidiousness doesn't extend to medical waste. Later, as the family eats at a diner, Frankie complains extravagantly about the messiness and general sucking of her roommates, and there is a great shot of Mom looking at Stepdad in which her eyeballs very clearly communicate, "This sounds familiar." I have a strange feeling Mom has heard the "everyone sucks and hates me" thing from Frankie before. In an interview, Frankie insists that she has tried to see things from her roommates' points of view, and that it doesn't help. Well, of course not. Mom and Stepdad protest gently that the roommates seem like nice people to them. Frankie speed-bitches that oh yes she thought that too at first but now she knows that every time she leaves a room they are talking trash about her and she doesn't have to take it and oh my God she knows they seem nice but she does not need that kind of crap. She also says that her roommates say that they hate her, which isn't true, but...she will not see that. She interviews, in the great tradition of reality show assholes throughout history, that she didn't come there to make friends. But still, she wants to bitch that it's hard to be the outcast and have people make no room for her socially. Well...yeah, it is, but you can't have that one both ways, dear. "I don't care about having friends, but pity me, no one acts like they like me." Whatever.
We change storylines by cutting to a shot of the blackboard, which says, "Jamie's Mom is coming on Sun. - Pls. don't scare her. Thnx." And thank you, Jamie, for writing on a blackboard as if you're text messaging. Hate that -- HATE. There's no character limit on the chalkboard -- I think you can write "Thanks." Jacquese drives Jamie to the airport to pick up her mom, as Jamie says it's been a while since she saw Mom, so she's a little nervous. Jamie, well-intentioned as usual, says that she wants her mom to have a "one-day vacation," since she almost never gets to go on real vacations. As she and Jacquese ramble around Baggage Claim looking for Mom, Jamie says that it's hard to see Mom in a crowd, because she's so short. Hee. They do, however, find Mom.
Back at the house, Jamie ushers Mom inside. Brad opines that Jamie's mother seems "real traditional." He says that between that and the blackboard note, he decided that he would stick with "Hi." Good call. Cameran goes with an unfortunate high-pitched tone you might use in addressing a puppy, but she does manage a polite introduction. When Mom sees the shower, she asks if Jamie showers with boys, and Jamie assures her that she doesn't. Jamie says that sharing "the American culture" that she's experiencing with her mom is lots of fun. However, she hits the same snag she knew she would -- she doesn't know enough Korean to tell her mom as much as she'd like to. So she points, and shows pictures, and so forth. Jamie and Mom go out to dinner, and Jamie asks whether Mom is going to sell the store when she retires, and Mom says that once Jamie graduates, they're going to sell it. Jamie has a bad case of College Guilt, and says she feels bad that everyone at home is working hard, and that she's having a good time and going to college and so forth. "I feel so spoiled," she says. She tells her mother that once she has a good job, she plans to take care of Mom and Dad and help them out.
Frankie and Dave are on the phone again. He tells her about a mention of his band on the radio, and at first, she's happy. But then she interviews that it hurt her so much that she couldn't be there, and so forth. So she acts snippy with Dave. Because Frankie is one of those people who, first of all, feels everything at a very pitched level, because it's just the way she is. But her particular strategy is that rather than telling you what she feels, she expresses some other emotion -- usually anger -- that makes no sense and stands in for whatever it is that she's really feeling, and then she hopes that if you love her, you'll guess how she really feels. So if she feels, say, hurt at a level of 8, she'll get angry at a level of 8, and hope you can interpret. Or she'll feel lonely at a level of 7, so she'll act angry at a level of 7. Frankie's fluctuating anger levels are just a marker of her emotional intensity level, and the substance of the emotion could be almost anything -- fear manifests as anger, depression manifests as anger, embarrassment manifests as anger. It's like her emotional radio has a volume knob, but no way to change the station. So the more angry she gets, the more you know she's feeling something very strongly, but it's probably not really anger, you know? Anyway.
At any rate, Dave can't imagine what he did wrong, but Frankie gets him off the phone quickly. She acts moderately angry, because she is moderately disappointed. If she had been devastatingly disappointed, she would have been devastatingly angry. See how it works? Play along!
Fresh off this conversation with Dave, Frankie retreats to the outside chairs, and her mom follows her. Outside, Mom sits with her as Frankie boohoos that she wants to go home and "hate[s] all these people." Because she now feels very guilty about being a dick to Dave, so that's manifesting as being very angry at her roommates. It's all surprisingly transparent, really. "No," Mom says gently, and Frankie flips, snapping at Mom to stop telling her she doesn't hate her roommates when she does. Of course, Mom knows this is not about hating the roommates, any more than it has been about any of the many other people Frankie has probably "hated" in her hating career. Mom cradles Frankie's head. Mamie looks on from about two feet away, like, Mom? Send Mamie inside, would ya? Kid doesn't need to see the meltdown. Frankie starts telling her family how her being in San Diego makes everyone unhappy, so she doesn't understand why she doesn't just leave. Mom tries to comfort her, and Frankie yells at Mom -- yeah, yells at Mom, in front of Mamie -- that the roommates all hate her. Inside, Cameran scrunches up her face, hearing at least some of this, along with Randy and Jacquese. Cameran interviews that no one "hates" Frankie. They're just tired of dealing with her. But Frankie is not going to catch on to that distinction at all, obviously -- the difference between "You suck" and "You suck the life out of me." Outside, Frankie tells Mom that if she had her way, she'd go home. She insists that she's only staying because Mom would be so mad at her if she leaves. Mom says she thinks Frankie made a commitment, and because I think Mom is sane enough not to see this as a real commitment in the traditional sense of job or college or whatever, I think what she's talking about is that Frankie is eventually going to have to see things through enough to notice that it's her behavior that makes her so unhappy. Frankie gets up to stomp off, saying that she can't come home, because she "can't live the rest of [her] life with [her] mom being disappointed in [her] actions." Get it? Frankie is feeling powerfully conflicted over the fact that her mom isn't affirming all of her angry feelings toward her roommates, precisely because her mother knows and loves her enough to know that anger isn't really Frankie's problem, but Frankie doesn't like being called on her shit any more than anyone else does, and what's more, she's used to using people's willingness to support her feelings -- no matter how insane they may be -- as a daunting test to find out whether they love her enough. Thus, she feels like Mom isn't on her side, and this hurts her feelings. So, instead of telling Mom that her feelings are hurt, she's -- you guessed it -- angry at Mom.
Back from the commercials, in this uncomfortable episode's most uncomfortable sequence, Mamie comes into the house in search of Frankie, who is sniffling and hand-washing and feeling sorry for herself. "Are you okay?" Mamie asks. "Yep," Frankie says. "No, you're not," says the world's most put-upon twelve-year-old knowingly. Frankie says, "I'm never okay, and you guys don't have to pretend like you think that I am." Hey, sure, why leave the twelve-year-old out of the festival of hostility, just because she's twelve? Jerk. A miserable and sniffling Mamie winds up in the arms of Cameran for comfort. That's extremely telling, because you know that Mamie knows it's not the roommates' fault, or she wouldn't be hugging Cameran, because twelve-year-olds are all about loyalty when someone else is wronged. If Mamie didn't know damn well that the problem here was Frankie and not the roommates, she'd never let Cameran comfort her. So you know that Mamie knows how fucked-up Frankie is, and that is just sad and hard to watch. Cameran takes Mamie's hand and takes her out of the house, which made me really kind of like Cameran in that moment. She interviews that Frankie has basically lost it, and that things are "starting to boil over."
Outside, Mamie tells Cameran that Frankie thinks the roommates all hate her. "No," Cameran says with a smile and a comforting chuckle. "Nobody hates Frankie." Cameran has a question for Mamie: "Do you think if she was home, she'd be happier?" "No," Mamie sniffles with great tension and frustration. "Was she happy when she was at home?" Cameran asks gently. "Not really," Mamie says. "She just -- she's been trying to get happy forever, and she -- she's never been happy." Cameran, obviously unsure how far to wade into this with Mamie but also aware that Mamie's already well into it, tells Mamie that she tried early on to help Frankie and talk to her about what would make her happy, and Frankie would say, "Going home." Mamie says no, she doesn't think that will help. "I really don't," she chuckles with a tired thirty-five-year-old's weariness. I have to say, I feel bad for Frankie in a way, because I do think she's got serious problems, but Frankie is an adult, and as far as I'm concerned, if I'm Frankie's mom, my number one job right now is making sure that Frankie does not pull this sweet, soft-hearted little kid right underwater with her.
As we watch Mamie perch on the chair to Cameran, hugging her knees in a little ball of sad, Cameran says in an interview that Mamie ultimately feels much the way the rest of them do -- she doesn't know what else she can do for Frankie beyond what she's done. Cameran tells Mamie she's awfully smart for twelve years old. She suggests that maybe Mamie and Frankie can go out and do something fun tonight.
Jamie and Jacquese take Mama Jamie to the airport for her trip home. Jamie says she's very glad her mom came and shared this with her. Mom leaves.
Back at the house, Jamie calls her friend Shaw. He asks how the visit was, and Jamie says it was great, and that she learned a lot of stuff about how her parents met that she had never known. She laments her bad Korean again. She says it makes her want to improve her Korean, so she interviews that she's thinking about college Korean courses. Imagine that! She's got a problem, so she's looking for a solution. That's so crazy, it just might work.
That night, Frankie tells Brad that she lives in "a constant state of anxiety," and Brad agrees that "anxiety's a real bitch." And by "anxiety," he means "you." Frankie interviews that Brad was very kind and supportive to her. He asks her what her mom says about staying versus going home, and Frankie says mom isn't keen on her quitting. She tells him, however, that she doesn't feel like she can "live every day to its fullest" in the house, because she's so miserable. Please. You can live every day to its fullest anywhere, and you can be miserable anywhere, dear. You wouldn't be happy if we stretched you out on the Lido Deck of the Pacific Princess for twenty consecutive weeks with nothing to do but read novels and sip drinks with wedges of lime perched on the edge of the glass. She interviews that this is all about her CF, and the fact that anything could happen at any time. Which is, you know, understandable in the sense that it COULD be true, but also BS, in the sense that I don't think it's actually true. I think Frankie is one of those frustrating people who legitimately has both physical and mental problems that she is very unlucky to have, but who also is just not a very likable person. That's a very tough thing to deal with -- the legitimately sick person who's also whiny and a giant drama queen. Because unfortunately, bad things happen not only to good people, but also to people who kind of suck. Anyway, Brad tells Frankie he doesn't want her to leave, but if she really believes she'll be better off at home, then he would want that for her. Brad interviews that she "needs to make her own decision about going home." And then in my mind, I see him hold up a sign that says, "GET THIS CRAZY FREAK OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE WE ALL GO MAD."
Frankie calls Kevin Lee, Real World producer. She whimpers to him that she either needs to go home for good, or she needs to go home for a while. He asks how she's doing, and she says she's depressed, and that it's "situational." She blubbers that she doesn't want to seem ungrateful, and Kevin says he'll talk to her tomorrow about what they're going to do. She interviews that some people never get happiness, and that she had happiness and walked away from it. Well, she never had the happiness so much, according to Mamie, as you will recall. She says she's evaluating what she's doing in the house.