WHAT THE FUTURE MAY HOLD (Shot of Helen lying in bed. Even though she is the sole occupant, she lies on one side, leaving the other half empty. Her eyes are closed, and she appears to be sleeping, but the minute her cell phone rings, her hand shoots out from under the covers and grasps it on the side table. Groggily, she sits up a little and brings it to her ear.) HELEN: Eric... what is...? VOICE: (female) Hi Helen. I have about ten cases I'd like to put you on, and it's never too early to discuss strategy. HELEN: Why yes, of c-- (frowns, head clearing.) Wait, you're not Eric. VOICE: Still bowing to his every whim, huh? HELEN: Amy?? VOICE: Congratulations, you've identified the mystery caller. (Cut to shot of Amy in her living room. It's dark, except for the lamp on her side table, which has been turned to its dimmest. Wearing an oversized man's flannel and cutoff sweats, her hair mussed and her face tired, she sits with her legs drawn up on the couch.) HELEN: (O.S.) Is something wrong? Where's Joel?? AMY: (faint smirk) Asleep. Curled up like a little boy. I couldn't wake him. (Split screen.) HELEN: (faintly annoyed) So you woke *me* instead. AMY: Be grateful. At least *you* don't have to leave your bed. (Remembering her unannounced visit to Amy and Joel in "All But Forgotten," Helen smiles a "Fine, I'll give you this one.") HELEN: Why my cell phone? AMY: I figured you kept it close to you, and I didn't want to wake the girls. HELEN: (rolls her eyes) Oh how thoughtful. AMY: I know. HELEN: (sits up more) So what's the matter? Have you been feeling all right? How's the morning sickness? AMY: Gone for the most part, thank God. HELEN: Have you been getting enough sleep? Do you keep all of your doctor's appointments? AMY: Yes and yes. Everything's fine in that respect. Just tonight I started thinking: I'm pregnant. HELEN: (smile) Yes, you are. AMY: (with disbelief) I mean, I'm pregnant. Really... pregnant. I can't feel anything yet, but if all goes well, in five months I'll be giving birth to a creature that will call me "Mom." Or "Old Lady." Whichever. HELEN: It feels very strange, doesn't it? AMY: Hence the reason I'm calling. It feels strange and... HELEN: Terrifying? AMY: If you must get technical. (She sighs deeply.) HELEN: And you're worried that you won't be a good mother? AMY: At this point I'd settle for being a bad one. At least the word "mother" would be attached somehow. HELEN: (sympathetic) Oh sweetie, it will come to you, believe me. *Especially* once you feel the baby inside you. AMY: I've become so used to being the aunt. Giving advice... HELEN: (cocks a brow) But leaving the rest to the mother. AMY: Yep. REACTIONS GRANDMA: (irritated) Honestly, Rita, your sister is impossible! RITA: (soothing) Helen's not going to change, Mother. Just ignore her, like you always tell me. GRANDMA: I'm talking about Amy. She's pregnant, living with the father, and still refuses to get married. RITA: Refuses?? I thought that's what she was planning all along. GRANDMA: Oh, she gave me some drivel about how she might marry *eventually*, but having a baby isn't the right reason. RITA: Is she crazy? That's the *main* reason. It's why David and I... (blushes, reluctant to finish.) GRANDMA: (nods wearily) I know, honey. That false alarm before Erin was born. (Rita makes little murmurs of embarrassment.) GRANDMA: It's too bad your sister doesn't believe in original sin, or I could convince her that if she doesn't tie the knot, her baby would suffer. RITA: Oh Mom, that'd be a horrible thing to tell her. GRANDMA: I know, I know... Not that it would matter anyway. (scowls.) She probably won't even get the baby baptized. RITA: Actually, isn't her boyfriend Jewish? GRANDMA: I believe so. RITA: If she has a boy, she might... (Rita makes a snipping motion. Grandma Barksdale's eyes fly wide open.) GRANDMA: Amy! You're not thinking of having that poor delicate baby's foreskin snipped, are you?? AMY: Well Mom, given that Joel's already had his -- *oh*, you meant the baby I'm carrying. GRANDMA: Don't be smart with me. AMY: Since I don't even know the gender, I can't say whether that will ever be an issue. GRANDMA: Surely you two have given some thought to the baby's spiritual upbringing. AMY: No, not really. GRANDMA: (insistent) You're Christian, he's Jewish. It will become an issue. (Amy frowns, both with annoyance and the sense that her mother is not completely wrong.) AMY: Well let's see: I can teach the baby how to get by on four church visits a year, the way I did. GRANDMA: (outraged) Oh, for heaven's sake! AMY: (challenging) What? It's true. For all of your fretting about our souls, we were never more than Midnight Mass Christians. GRANDMA: And I suppose your boyfriend is the same way? AMY: No, Joel had a Reformed Jewish upbringing. Hebrew school, bar mitzvah, the works. And still has not an ounce of religious piety in him. He only celebrates the major holidays to please his father and step-mother. GRANDMA: Are they religious? AMY: Sort of. GRANDMA: Is he close to them? AMY: Fairly. GRANDMA: (with certainty) Then it *will* become an issue. (Amy sighs deeply, hangs her head.) AMY: Look Mom, my basic goal is to follow the Helen and Jake model. (Bt) Good lord, I actually said that out loud. GRANDMA: Which is?? AMY: To not force a religion, but allow my kid to find one that suits him. Or her. GRANDMA: (sighing) I was hoping you wouldn't do that. AMY: Why not? It's not like their kids worship Satan. GRANDMA: Yes, but... don't misunderstand me, I think they're both fine girls. Even Daria, who's a little... you *know*. But there's something so jaded about both of them. Like they don't really care about anything. AMY: You can't prove religion would have made a difference. GRANDMA: No, but with a little religion, their parents might have... AMY: (rolls her eyes) Mom, it's amazing they stayed together as long as they did. You and Dad even hoped they would split up sooner, didn't you? GRANDMA: Mmmm... (Decides not to touch that one.) I just don't want you and Joel to end up the same way. AMY: Well first we'd have to get married. (Bt) Which we *will*, when we're good and ready. GRANDMA: (resigned) All right, Amy. I could never influence you one way or the other. You just do what you feel is right. AMY: Thank you. GRANDMA: But please *do* give it some thought, it's important. AMY: Fine, I will. THE OVERDUE DATE DARIA: Hello? VOICE: Daria? DARIA: (recognizing) Oh. Hey, Joel. JOEL: Guess what? You're a cousin... again! DARIA: (smirks) For the third time? JOEL: (excited, tired) It's a boy -- well you knew that. He's a real beauty. Huge! Weighs over nine pounds! DARIA: Figures. Isn't he like a month overdue? JOEL: No, it just felt that way. Around four a.m., your aunt had to have a C-section because his feet were tangled in his umbilical cord and she couldn't push him thr-- DARIA: Danger: moving close to the "Too Much Information" zone. How's Aunt Amy is doing? JOEL: She's great. The doctor gave her something to knock her out, or else she'd be on the phone herself. Before nodding off, she asked me to do the honors. DARIA: She just didn't want to talk to her family all at once. JOEL: Come to think of it, she *did* have a wicked smile on her face. DARIA: So does your kid have a name? Or do you just call him whatever's on the hospital bracelet? JOEL: Oh, he's got a name. A good one. But your aunt wanted to be the one to tell you. DARIA: (cocks an eyelid) Really? JOEL: (smirks) It's not Darius. DARIA: Damn. (Just then, HELEN: Joel? (Pause, maternal cooing.) Ohhhhhh! (Pause) *Thirty- eight* hours, are you serious?! The poor thing. (Bt) *Both* of them. (eyes Daria.) I think I remember going through something similar. (Daria rolls her eyes.) JOEL: She only agreed to a C-section after the doctors said she was putting her life and the baby's at risk. (Pause) Now that everything's fine, I'll admit that I was a little nervous. All right, very nervous. But I think I held it together, and of course Amy did, she always does. (Pause) Yeah, it went without a problem. They made me leave the OR after he was born, but I got to see him before he was cleaned up; looked like something out of a horror movie. (Pause, smirks a little.) Well *you* may have seen it before, but this was my first kid, and possibly my last. (Pause) Oh no, he looks real cute now. It was funny: when Amy woke up from surgery, the first thing she said was "That's him? He's so red." HELEN: You can never count on her to say the expected. Was she happy? JOEL: Oh sure... she kept making goo-goo faces. I think part of her isn't completely convinced that he's ours, though. HELEN: That feeling will go away. It did with me. (thinks.) Although with Jake, it took a good y-- (sees Daria.) *week*. (Joel finally turns off his cell phone and heads into Amy's hospital room, where they have moved her from Recovery. The exhausting labor, surgery, and painkillers have taken their toll, and she is fast asleep. Her mouth is partially open, and her breathing deep and rhythmic. She doesn't stir as Joel sits down in a chair beside her bed. He notes that a few sweaty curls have dried on her cheek, and gently tries to pull them away. When the hair refuses to budge, Joel decides to leave it alone and instead reaches for Amy's right hand beneath the covers. He squeezes it, brings it to his mouth for a kiss, then leans over the side rail to give her a kiss between the eyes. He keeps her hand in his as he sits back down. His expression conveys the emotions he couldn't reveal over the phone: thank God she's all right. He has never loved her as much, and she has never seemed more beautiful.) SISTERLY BONDING HELEN: *Howard*? (delighted.) Dad's middle name -- we hoped you'd use it. AMY: Yes, I was well aware of the not-so-subtle hints, especially from Mom. I'm sure she'd have preferred me to give him Dad's entire name, but sorry. This is my kid, not a continuation of the Barksdale legacy. So Ryan Howard it is. HELEN: (tries to be discreet) And, um, what about his last name? AMY: (cocks a brow) His full name is Ryan Howard Barksdale Silverman. (smirks.) We almost thought of naming him Ron as a joke, but no, Ryan's a good name. I've always liked it. AMY: I was hoping I could push him out the normal way. HELEN: Oh honey, either way he came out just fine. And *healthy* -- that's what matters most. AMY: (smiles a little) *Yes*. But still, there's this weird feeling of disconnect. One minute, he was about to be born, the next, they were holding him up to my face. (disquieted.) You and Rita got to see your kids when they were just born, whereas Mom had us the "old-fashioned" way. HELEN: So? AMY: Don't you think being conscious for your kid's birth helps with the bonding process? HELEN: (smothers a laugh) It might. Though sometimes I think it does the opposite. AMY: Mom was never close to either of us. HELEN: She's close to Rita. AMY: True. (They both frown a little, out of habit.) HELEN: Sweetie, I wouldn't worry. How you do as a mother depends on *so* many different factors, more than we could ever pinpoint on our own. AMY: Great. AMY: Oh by the way: Mom actually plans to come visit for a week or two. HELEN: Visit?? She hasn't visited either of us in years! AMY: She's never been to my place. I guess it's a family tradition. HELEN: (ignoring the jab) Well the birth of her first grandson is a pretty special occasion. AMY: Her youngest daughter actually *giving* birth is the special occasion. And since Joel went and gave her a detailed account of the delivery, she's fully convinced I was at death's door. HELEN: Oh dear. (Bt) Were...? AMY: (quickly) *No*, I was not. Just very exhausted, and in no mood to argue with my doctor. And while it's true, being rushed into the OR *was* a little dramatic, it wasn't half as bad as you see on T.V., trust me. (Pause) I said *trust* me, Helen. HELEN: Yes Amy, I trust you. AMY: Anyway, I should get going. HELEN: Yes, *yes*, me too. (Bt, hasty.) You *do* know I love you, right? (Amy slowly cocks a brow, her expression showing that she's amused as well as touched.) RITA: Thank you, Amy, *thank* you! AMY: For what? RITA: For making me feel ten years younger. I mean hell, if my little sister can still have kids, I can't be over the hill yet, can I? AMY: Funny: those were Helen's words, too. RITA: Don't get me wrong, I love being a grandmother, but if I mention it to any of my boyfriends, they look at me like my breasts are sagging down to my ankles, you know? AMY: (slightly repulsed) I do now. RITA: But now I can just say I've been made an aunt for the third time. That's bound to cut at least five years off my guestimated age. AMY: Helen said seven. RITA: Huh? AMY: Rita, you do realize that reproductively speaking, I'm about yah close to being a white haired old lady with dried prunes for ovaries? Having one kid was a big risk, and I doubt I'll be having any more. RITA: Oh Amy, give yourself some credit. If you were really that far gone, your son wouldn't have turned out as well as he has. AMY: (smirks faintly) Perhaps. RITA: Oh, by the way, you know how you were concerned about raising a boy? I told Erin and she offered to give you some advice. AMY: Expert advice from my niece? Who's been a mother a whole seven months longer than I have? (concedes.) Thanks. I'm sure I'll tap her sooner or later. RITA: She thought you could bring Ryan over, when he's old enough. He and the twins are so close in age, wouldn't it be funny if they started playing together and became best friends?? AMY: Is Tommy still swallowing cat litter? RITA: Hmm, I think they're breaking him of that habit. ONE LOOOOOONG NIGHT (The clock reads two-eleven. Amy and Joel lie in bed, in deep sleep. A wailing sound from another room can be heard, but it takes several moments before it registers with either of them. Finally Joel responds by muttering half-coherently and rolling over on his side. Amy lies still for several more moments before her eyes fly open. She gazes at the ceiling for a few more seconds before sitting up reluctantly. She then prods Joel, who either is very sound asleep or pretending to be.) AMY: (groggy) All right Papa, you said you'd be on diaper duty tonight. JOEL: Mmmmm... tomorrow... please? AMY: (snaps) That's what you said last night! If I'd wanted to raise a kid alone I'd have used Einstein's sperm. (Joel turns over and sits up -- sleep deprivation robs Amy of much of her usual calm.) JOEL: All right, all right. Just feed him and let me know when you're done. AMY: (angrier) Right. He'll suffer and I'll inhale shit fumes for twenty minutes. Either you do it now, or forget it. JOEL: (glaring) Fine! (He climbs out of bed.) I'll change him and bring him to you. You can get a few more minutes of beauty sleep. That sound fair?! (Amy nods, but Joel doesn't wait for her answer before he leaves. Amy listens as the wailing from the baby's room -- once the guest room -- quiets down to the occasional sob. She turns on the bedside lamp, leans back against the headboard, and closes her eyes for what seems like a minute. The sobs grow louder, and Amy snaps to alertness again just as Joel comes toward her with the baby.) JOEL: Okay Mama, he's all powdered up and ready. (Amy holds out her arms and receives him. She opens her nightshirt and offers her son a breast, which he takes hold of immediately and begins suckling. Amy winces a little; even after so many nights, the intensity of his hunger still amazes her. She finally settles down and begins rocking and cooing him softly. Joel, meanwhile, has settled back into bed. His eyes closed, he listens to the activity next to him. When the baby has sufficiently drained one breast, Amy shifts him to the other, where he latches on and suckles more gently. Amy finds herself smiling -- this is the part she likes best. The baby suckles quietly, his eyes growing heavy and his hand brushing against her. Amy rocks him in silence for several more minutes before his eyes close completely. She then reaches over to put on her glasses and carries him back to his room.) (Once in the baby's room, Amy sits down in a chair next to the crib and continues to rock him even after he's pulled back from her breast, asleep. She studies his face, noting that it has left its early space alien stage and is well on its way to being plain cute. Actually... Amy strokes his brow lightly... it already is cute. She stares at him contemplatively for a few more minutes before giving him a final smooch and tucking him back into his crib.) (Back in their bedroom, JOEL: So he's asleep. AMY: Yep. JOEL: No problems? AMY: You hear the silence, don't you? JOEL: (relieved) I didn't want to jinx anything. AMY: You mean having to do this just *once* a night? JOEL: A man can dream, can't he? (Amy yawns deeply and buries herself beneath the covers, facing toward Joel.) AMY: God, we sound so married, don't we? (Joel is silent for a moment.) JOEL: Love ya, Mama Bear. AMY: (after a beat) Right back at you, Papa. (They look at each other a moment longer, then close their eyes.) AMY:(mumble) See you again in two hours. JOEL: (nodding off) Mmmm. THE MEETING QUINN: Goo! Gooooooo! Goo-ga-boo-ga-boooo! You cutie-wootie! (She continues to make silly faces at the baby and tickle his tummy, which he responds to by squawking happily. Amy watches from close by, as amused by Quinn's behavior as she is obviously pleased.) QUINN: Yes, you're the cutest widdle baby there is, yes you are, yes you are, aren't you, huh? Aren't you...? DARIA: (O.S.) *Click*. (Quinn shoots upright, whirls around to look at her.) DARIA: (smirks) Your friends at school should get a kick out of your Jim Carey impression. Just as soon as I develop the negatives. QUINN: (glaring) Very *funny*, Daria. AMY: (amused) Actually, it kind of was. QUINN: (rolls her eyes) You two are hopeless. (She turns around and looks at the baby, gets a goo-goo face.) Yes they are, aren't they? Yes they are! Yes they *are*! Aren't they, you widdle iddy-bitty... (Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Daria watching her.) QUINN: Um... I'm gonna go see what Mom's up to. (She darts out of the room, leaving Daria with Amy and the baby.) AMY: Damn. Now who can I get to entertain Ryan? (She arches a brow at Daria, who suddenly looks uncomfortable, like she's been cornered.) DARIA: I should see if Quinn needs help... AMY: It's okay, Daria, he won't bite. (smirks.) Not *yet*, anyway. (That's the least of Daria's concerns, but she doesn't feel like explaining. Gingerly she sits down on the blanket, beside the squirming baby. She notes that while the rest of his features are still too doughy and formless, it's already clear he has his mother's eyes. The baby looks at her, makes a small gurgling sound, a trail of drool spilling down his chin. He is too young to lift his head on his own, so Daria merely kneels over him, her arms at her sides. After a few moments:) AMY: (brow raised) He won't break, either. DARIA: Oh... right. (She starts patting his head awkwardly, then rubs it. The baby looks at her with a serious and vaguely frightened expression. When his chin starts to quiver:) DARIA: O-kay, I'm no good at this. (Amy leans over her son and makes cooing noises, then blows on his tummy, which causes him to smile and wiggle around even more.) DARIA: *That* I can't do. AMY: Trust me, sometimes I shock myself. (She reaches down and scoops him up.) Let's let him sit with Mama a while. That way both of you will be less nervous. (She sits the baby up in her lap, supporting him with both arms, and rocks him a little.) DARIA: He likes *you*, anyway. AMY: Of course he does: I feed him. (holds out one of his hands.) Here, put your finger in the palm of his hand. It's the universal baby handshake. DARIA: And you know this because? AMY: It's how I met you. (Daria does so... the baby's hand closes around her finger, and she shakes it up and down slowly. The baby looks at Daria curiously, then, after some encouraging cooing from his mother, gives her a smile. Amy looks faintly relieved. Daria's reserve thaws ever so slightly.) DARIA: Just don't ask me to change him. AMY: There goes my secret plan. DARIA: Is he usually this quiet? AMY: You call this "quiet"? DARIA: I mean no screaming. No crying. AMY: Look into my eyes, Daria. (She does, and notices once again how tired they look.) AMY: I've slept about four hours the past two nights. But he's being good right now, thank God. (smiles down at him fondly.) (After a few more moments, Daria gets tired of holding the baby's hand and withdraws her own hand gently. The baby, now more curious about the stranger than ever, watches her intently.) DARIA: How old was I when you first met me? AMY: Hmmm... maybe a couple of months older. I remember you could lift your head, and you had hair. (smirks, remembering.) Your mother just sort of shoved you in my face, so I didn't really have a choice about it. DARIA: So you waited until I was old enough to exact revenge. AMY: Quinn, on the other hand, was practically a newborn. She was supposed to arrive after Thanksgiving, but wound up being two weeks early. My parents and I were already planning to head up for the holiday, so we got to see her then. If you think *this* guy is small, you should have seen her. DARIA: (with distaste) I did. AMY: Ah. Right. LATER... QUINN: He was soooo *cute*! I want a baby. Not one that I'd actually give birth to myself, and not for, like, another twenty years, but I want a baby. HELEN: That's wonderful, honey. What did you think, Daria? DARIA: He was a baby, all right. HELEN: Did you like him? DARIA: He was fine, I suppose. He hardly cried, never spit up on me, and I'm pleased to report that my clothes are completely dry. HELEN: (cocks a brow) Is that a "yes"? QUINN: For Daria, that's love. (Daria shoots her an annoyed look.) DARIA: He has Amy's eyes. Though hopefully not her eyesight. HELEN: He does have her eyes, doesn't he? Barksdale eyes. And we three have Barksdale eyes, too, so you can tell he's related. (goo-goo face.) That cute widdle thing! DARIA: I'm glad you two have taken to him so quickly. HELEN: It just brings me back to when you girls were that age. QUINN: (to Daria) Why were *you* so afraid of him? DARIA: (defensive) I wasn't afraid. Exactly. HELEN: So you didn't like him? DARIA: I didn't like him, I didn't hate him. I didn't feel anything because I'm not a baby person. I don't have the urge to twist my face like silly putty and make funny sounds to amuse what is little more than a jiggling water bottle. (Helen and Quinn both assume mildly exasperated, though unsurprised, looks.) HELEN: Well that's fine, Daria. No one's forcing you to play surrogate mother. DARIA: No, but I could tell Amy was disappointed. I just hope she won't hold it against me. HELEN: She has a bond with you, honey. That's not going to change just because you're not a baby person. DARIA: But it's *her* baby. Would you be thrilled if I were your niece and couldn't warm up to your kid? HELEN: Being nervous around a baby doesn't mean you've sworn him off as a person. (cocks a brow.) You know your aunt Amy was less than enthusiastic about the two of you when you were born. DARIA: And it only took her sixteen years to see the error of her ways. HELEN: Let's just say it might have happened *sooner* if she and I had been on better terms. That's something you don't have to worry about. DARIA: I guess. (Beat) HELEN: You're not, perhaps, a little jealous of Ryan, are you? DARIA: I'm sure that's part of it. But if it were the only problem, it would be easy to solve. (sighs.) I just hope that I do warm up to him, because I don't think I can fool Aunt Amy in the long run... AN UNDERSTANDING AMY: (arched brow) Daria, I don't expect you to talk about baby stuff every time we're on the phone. In fact, I don't even *want* you to. DARIA: Then what should we talk about? AMY: How 'bout what we've always talked about. DARIA: We usually talk about me. You don't give too many details about your life, except to say that you remember just what it was like, and advise me from there. AMY: Why mess with a good formula? DARIA: Oh come *on*. You don't want to hear about me. It was fine when you were single and your situation was a little closer to mine, but now... AMY: Now I'm this alien because I have a kid and a pending marriage? DARIA: No, but it would be wrong to think that your heart was quite as invested in *my* problems when you have so much else to think about. AMY: (nods slowly) Yes... You're right, my plate *is* overflowing. And it shows a lot of maturity for you to take that into account. DARIA: (mild sarcasm) Gee, thanks. AMY: But seriously, I *like* hearing about what goes on in your life. Having a baby doesn't mean I've forgotten what it's like to be your age. DARIA: You're not just saying that? AMY: *Yes*. But then again, you could read the newspaper to me and I'd be happy. Contrary to popular belief, I don't want to talk baby stuff all the time. It gets boring. DARIA: Really? AMY: I love my son, but I'm around him twenty-four seven. My life is anti-leakage disposable diapers, eating food that won't turn my milk sour, and checking to make sure he hasn't been strangled by a toy. And when Joel gets home, it's more of the same. Well, except for the milk part. (Daria AMY: While I'm grateful I could stay home with him this long, a part of me can't wait to go back to work, and I never ever thought I'd hear myself say that. THE BIG STEP AMY: Believe me when I say it's not marriage I'm afraid of. (She sits on the bed, watching Joel change the baby on top of their dresser. He grimaces as he removes a poopy-filled diaper, then holds it out to Amy by the tips of his fingers. She pinches her nose and shakes her head vehemently. Joel lays the bundle at the farthest end of the dresser from him and Ryan.) AMY: It already feels like we're married. JOEL: Well then what? AMY: If you must know, it's the wedding. JOEL: (teases) Afraid you'd look fat in a wedding gown? AMY: (annoyed) Hardly. JOEL: If it's the expense, maybe we could act really pathetic and convince your mother to foot the bill. AMY: That's not it, either. (falls back on the bed, covers her eyes with one arm.) Why can't we just get the marriage license? Then smirk quietly as our family drive themselves mad thinking we live in sin? (Joel quickly stuffs used baby wipes into a bag, then reaches for the powder.) JOEL: We could do that. Although why spare them the horror of a Vegas-style wedding? All the frills? (Amy seems amused by the thought, then looks reflective.) AMY: Oh, you know we would never do that. Maybe if we'd done it before Ry was born, but since then there's been too much good will directed toward us. (grim.) It'll be years before we can act snarky with a clear conscience. (Joel slides a fresh diaper into place and starts fastening it together.) JOEL: (to the squirming baby) Nah nah nah, don't you go anywhere, we're not finished yet. (to Amy.) Well then what do you have against a plain, boring, by-the-book wedding? AMY: Maybe the fact that I've never been the best guest... FLASHBACKS (Winter, 1974. Rita's wedding. An adolescent Amy stands in the corner of a large reception hall, wearing a frilly pink version of the bridesmaids dresses in "I Don't." Her mother appears.) EVELYN: (irritated) Amy, for heaven's sake, don't stand there and sulk. Go mingle with the other guests! (She whips off Amy's glasses and gives her a little push toward the crowd.) AMY: But Mom, I need -- EVELYN: That's better! Now you look more approachable. (Her vision severely restricted, Amy tries to maneuver around, only to bump right into one of the servers. His tray of appetizers spills onto the disco dance floor, where one dancing guest slips and plows into a nearby dancer. They both fall over, and other dancers trip over them and fall to the floor. Several loud crashing sounds are heard. Although Amy cannot see what has transpired, she can guess. She smirks.) (Dissolve to close-up of teen Amy's unenthusiastic face. Wide-shot reveals her to now be dressed in white and wearing a crown of flowers, as are Rita and four other people. They all stand in a half-circle around Helen and Jake, at their coastal wedding in June of 1975. As the bride and groom recite their vows, they toss petals onto the ground.) HELEN & JAKE: (reciting) Let us begin this karmic adventure, in the presence of friends and trees... (Close-up of Jake and Helen. Jake seems fidgety and nervous, and says his lines with an air of uncertainty, as if afraid of getting them wrong.) (Cut to his P.O.V. His gaze trails toward the members of the wedding party, ending with Rita, who looks a little nauseous from pregnancy, and Amy. Amy looks right at him, rolls her eyes, and sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth.) (Cut to shot of Jake. He bursts out chuckling, breaking the speech. Helen drops her arms and glares at him.) JAKE: (whiney, defensive) It was *her*! (He points to Amy, who now smirks innocently.) (Dissolve to the wedding scene in "I Don't." Daria chuckles, having seen Amy's tongue move. The bridesmaids glare at her.) (Cut to shot of adult Amy and Daria walking blithely past Helen and Jake's table as a fight between them, Paul Meyerson, and Rita has broken out.) (Dissolve to present-day shot of Amy, Joel, and their son in the bedroom.) AMY: (grim) I suppose shooting me during the ceremony would be within their rights. (Joel finishes putting on the diaper and hoists Ryan off of the dresser.) JOEL: See now? Was that so bad? (The baby starts fussing. Joel rocks him a little, to no avail.) JOEL: Everyone's a critic. (Amy sits up.) AMY: I think he's hungry. Here, give him to me. (She undoes the top buttons of her blouse and holds out her arms. Joel lays the baby in them, and Amy offers him a breast. Ryan refuses to suckle and starts crying even louder. Sighing, Amy holds him to her with one hand and buttons up with the other.) AMY: (to the baby) You will never have this much access again. You should enjoy it. (Meanwhile, Joel stands at the dresser, tidying up.) AMY: (brow arched) Remember when flashing my breasts used to turn you on? JOEL: It still does. But it's something that should be savored. Watching them all the time just cheapens the moment. (Amy flings a hand at him and bobs Ryan up and down slowly, trying to soothe him. Before long he's quieted back down.)