Back in Sherman Oaks, the late afternoon sun filtered through the living room windows.
Judith was lying back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, while Jake sat in a wingback chair nearby.
"I've always been the good daughter, the good wife," Judith sighed, rubbing her temples. "Outside of those relationships, I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't know if I'm gay, if I'm straight, who knows... all I know is that I'm alone."
"Well, you always have me here, Mom," Jake said, his tone gentle and validating.
Judith turned her head, offering a tired but genuine smile. She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, honey."
Jake let a moment of silence pass before shifting back into a professional demeanor. "Anyway, how was your relationship with your parents growing up?"
Judith let out a long, heavy sigh. "Well, that's a whole other can of worms," she said, sounding utterly exasperated.
"Go on," Jake prompted.
As Judith started talking about her childhood experiences, the time flew by. "It was always about Liz," Judith complained, her voice tight with decades-old resentment. "My sister was the golden child. She had the perfect grades, the perfect hair, the perfect social life. My parents looked at her like she was a trophy, and they looked at me like I was the participation ribbon. I spent my entire adolescence trying to prove I was just as valuable, but nothing I did was ever enough."
"I see," Jake said, nodding thoughtfully as he practiced his new [Drawing Module] in his notepad.
He checked the clock on the wall. "Well, Mom, I think we should wrap this up for today. It's already time for me to head to Uncle Charlie's."
"Oh," Judith blinked, sitting up and suddenly realizing how much time had passed. "Sorry, I lost track."
"It's okay. We've made some great progress here today," Jake assured her, using the exact clinical phrasing a real psychologist would, something he had learned from Higgins.
"You think so?" Judith asked, looking hopeful.
"Oh, I'm sure of it," Jake said.
They quickly got to work packing up the last of Jake's weekend belongings into a few cardboard boxes: his books, some clothes, and his Apple PowerBook G4. Just as they finished taping the last box, Alan pulled up in the driveway to help them load the car.
As Jake carried a box to the Chrysler, he reflected on his new role. The main reason he was acting as his mother's therapist wasn't just to humor her; it was also to help her.
Beyond her clear need for a professional, he genuinely wanted her to feel better. More importantly, he wanted to change her trajectory. He had tried helping Alan, but his father seemed hellbent on shooting himself in the foot at every conceivable opportunity.
Judith, however, actually seemed open to unpacking her flaws and changing herself. Whether that change would ultimately be for the better was yet to be seen, but it was a risk Jake was willing to take.
As they drove back to the beach house, the transition to Malibu was seamless. When they walked through the front door, Charlie was sitting at his piano, absently plucking keys and trying to come up with a new jingle.
"Hi, Uncle Charlie," Jake said, carrying his boxes straight toward his bedroom.
Once his room was organized and he had officially said goodbye to his mother at the door, Jake walked back out to the living room.
Alan was stretching his calves against the sofa. "You ready for tomorrow, buddy?"
"You bet I am!" Jake said cheerfully, the Cognitive Dampening Module allowing him to feel a genuine, kid-like surge of excitement for a simple weekend activity.
Charlie stopped playing and looked over his shoulder, unaccustomed to seeing his nephew look so legitimately cheerful. "What are you two doing tomorrow?"
"We are going to bike the Marvin Braude Bike Trail, all the way down to the Boulevard and back," Alan announced proudly. "Do you want to come?"
Charlie did the mental math. "That's like a five or six-hour bike ride."
"Should be around that, yeah," Alan nodded.
"Let me think about it," Charlie said, pausing for a fraction of a second. "No."
"You could use the workout, Uncle Charlie," Jake pointed out.
Charlie smirked, playing a jazzy little riff on the piano. "Don't worry, kid. I get plenty of exercise on my own time."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of television, and some quiet reading.
Ding-dong.
Early the next morning, the doorbell echoed through the house. Jake, already dressed in his shorts and sneakers, jogged to the door and pulled it open.
Evelyn was standing on the porch, dressed impeccably in a designer pantsuit.
"Oh, hello there, sweetheart!" she said, immediately pulling Jake into a suffocating hug and pressing his face directly into her chest.
"Hi, Grandma," Jake's muffled voice echoed from her blazer.
Hearing the commotion, Alan walked out of the kitchen, holding a travel mug of coffee. He froze. "Oh. Hi, Mom. What are you doing here?"
Evelyn released Jake and fixed her son with a withering glare. "Well, after you neglected to answer any of my phone calls, I saw myself forced to come down here in person."
"Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry. I must not have heard the phone ringing," Alan lied straight through his teeth.
"Oh, surely it must have been that," Evelyn replied dryly, not believing a single syllable. She turned her attention back to her grandson. "Jake, be a darling and please wake up your Uncle Charlie, will you?"
"Sure," Jake said, taking the opportunity to escape.
He jogged upstairs and pushed open the door to Charlie's bedroom. He walked over to the bed and shook his uncle's shoulder. Charlie groaned, peeling one bloodshot eye open.
"What's up, Jake?" Charlie mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep.
"Grandma is here. She wants you to come downstairs."
Charlie let out a long sigh that was equal parts total defeat and profound annoyance. Jake didn't wait around; he left Charlie to process the nightmare on his own and headed back downstairs to gather his biking gear.
As Jake walked into the kitchen to grab his water bottles and helmet, he could hear Evelyn already laying into Charlie, who had just trudged down the stairs.
"...and frankly, Charles, your entire hedonistic lifestyle is simply becoming an obstacle to me spending quality time with my beloved grandchild," Evelyn stated coldly. Catching sight of Jake walking back into the living room, she immediately smiled and pulled him into another aggressive hug.
"Love you too, Grandma," Jake said in a perfectly deadpan tone.
Sensing a fleeting window of opportunity, Alan seized it. "Well, we'd better get going! Thanks for dropping by, Mom! Let's go, Jake!" Alan shouted, practically sprinting toward the front door to escape his mother.
"Bye Grandma, bye Uncle Charlie!" Jake called out, following his dad.
The door clicked shut, leaving Charlie completely alone in the living room with Evelyn. She turned to him, an unnerving smile spreading across her face.
Charlie stared at her for exactly one second.
"Wait for me! I'm going!" Charlie yelled, turning and sprinting toward the door.
Charlie burst out of the front door and scrambled down the steps to the driveway, where Alan and Jake were already standing next to their bicycles.
Charlie stopped short. Leaning against the wall of the house, perfectly polished and with a helmet resting on the handlebars, was a third bicycle.
Alan looked at Charlie, then slowly turned to stare at his ten-year-old son in utter disbelief. "How did you know he was coming?"
Jake calmly strapped his helmet under his chin and offered a casual shrug. "I just had a hunch."