Hey, there’s that theme song again. I’m not sure I’ll miss it. But I’ll miss the mood it puts me in: the feeling that something pretty fascinating is right around the corner. Don’t go, Lip Service!

This time the fascinating thing is Sam, washing her face and wetting her hair and staring into the mirror as if she doesn’t quite recognize herself.

My girlfriend yells, “Pull yourself together!” — and that will turn out to be the first of many such utterances. I second that; there is no part of me that prefers off-the-rails Sam to on-the-ball Sam. But I don’t have a lot of hope for her speedy reassembly, partly because while I was writing this paragraph, I paused the playback in a spot that made this scene look like something out of Black Swan.

Also, for a minute there I thought this was the mirror against which Sam banged that hapless victim last week, but it’s not. So maybe there’s some hope after all.

At the TriSexA flat, Sadie and Lexy are having breakfast. There’s coffee and yogurt (sorry, yoghurt) and milk and … well, way more smiles than we’re used to seeing around this particular gateleg table.

Lexy looks very Archie comics in that screenshot. She’s the female Reggie!

Tess emerges from her room, in a typical Tess-y tizzy.

Lexy: Here she is, the actress.
Tess: Don’t. I think I’m going to be sick. How could it be opening night already?

Oh, I know this one: it’s because there are only six episodes in the season and everything’s at warp speed and you go faster and faster until all the faces stretch in that weird plasticky creepy way and you slip through a wormhole into a different universe.

Tess: Last night, I actually had the dream. I was on stage naked —
Sadie: Cheeky Chekhov.
Tess: — and I just … I froze. 450 people staring at my lady garden, waiting for the show to start.

Lexy chuckles and tells Tess she’ll be “fine.” I don’t know, Lexy: I like your steady, laid-back aura, but I think you could have done better than “fine.”

Ed shows up with a good-luck card for Tess. Lexy has a gift for Tess too: a “first-night survival kit.” Tess is very, very pleased with this. Too pleased. Lexy tells her not to open it until she gets to the theater, and Tess makes another goofy face. Just when you think you’ve seen every one of Tess’s thirty-six expressions, another one pops up.

Tess distributes tickets for the show: one for Ed, one for Sadie, one for Lexy, one for… she pauses as if she’s thinking, “Wait, wasn’t there someone else here once? Maybe even more than one someone?”

Ed asks whether anyone has spoken to Sam (no one has), and asks Lexy whether she’s been running with Sam. After Lexy says no to this question, Tess goes off to take a shower. And then Lexy seems to go into a sort of fugue.

Ed: Anyone you want to bring? It’s not like I’ve got much chance of meeting someone by tonight.
Lexy: (distantly and dreamily) Yeah. Yeah, maybe.
Ed: So there is someone?
Lexy: (still murmuring distantly) Yeah. (suddenly waking up) I mean, no. Er… they won’t want a ticket.

Uh, that was weird. And hey, Lexy, you don’t need to use the gender-neutral “they” with your friends. Much like Bea’s husband, THEY KNOW.

Yeah, I realize the point is that Lexy is considering her options and trying to decide whether to pursue Tess. But who would just mumble that stuff at the breakfast table? Ah, exposition. It’s a tricky beast.

Sadie takes the extra ticket because, as she puts it, she’s “the only one likely to be gettin’ any later.” I don’t know why, but when Sadie says such wonderfully Sadie-rific things, I feel safe and warm and happy. Sadie snark is a hug!

I guess I haven’t said much about the interstitial shots of Glasgow. They’re lovely and they make me want to go to there. The light and water are breathtaking sometimes, and the city streets seem to have just the right amount of bustle.

But we’re actually still pretty much in the same scene, though perhaps half an hour later. Tess is showing Lexy her potential dress for the after-show party.

Tess: I don’t know if I’ve got the legs.
Lexy: Are you kidding? You have great legs!

Tess somehow manages not to squee at this. Lexy tries to take her leave, but Tess stops her to thank her for being such a supportive friend (and also to ask for a little more support).

Tess: God, I hope I don’t make a tit of myself.
Lexy: (fondly) You’re always making a tit of yourself.

And then Lexy leans in to kiss Tess on the cheek, but Tess turns ever so slightly to the side and it becomes a squirmy awkward not-lip not-cheek not-meaningless kiss.

Tess saves the moment with her typical adorkableness:

Tess: OK, uh, OK. (thinking, scrambling for something to say) That’s a… a really nice lip balm you’re wearing. What is it?
Lexy: It’s a medicated Chapstick.
Tess: Right. Sexy!

Aww, Tess. Must you have such extreme puppy-dog eyes as you watch Lexy go out the door? Don’t break your own heart!

Outside, Lexy stops. She stands in the middle of the pavement, not going left, not going right. It feels like a continuation of that earlier fugue — maybe she’s being remote-controlled by someone. It’s The Manchurian Candidate, but without all the playing cards and Communists.

Ed and Tess are killing time. Tess worries about the fact that Lexy “actually knows” Vanya. Does anybody really know Vanya? Even though I’ve read it a few times and seen it a couple of times, I still can’t say I “know” it. That’s how I feel about all Chekhov plays: they’re beautiful, and they move me, but if I try to summarize them, I end up saying vague things about the country vs. the city, the inevitable march of progress, the anguish of unrequited love, the curative power of hard work, and something about forests and farms and orchards. Also, there’s always a doctor, a samovar, and that infamous gun.

Ed tries to reassure Tess:

Tess: What if I’m rubbish?
Ed: I’m sure she won’t tell you if you are.
Tess: Thanks, Ed.

Heh. I’m sure she wouldn’t, though! I speak from experience, because I was in that position last year: we went to a preview of a new off-Broadway show and had to pretend not to hate it because my partner’s former co-worker had a fairly sizable role in it. When he asked whether we liked it, we said sideways things, such as “You were the best part!” — which wasn’t actually a lie. And anyway, he didn’t need us to tell him how abysmal the thing was: it closed after only 7 performances. I’m sure your Sonya won’t be that bad, Tess!

Ed’s not sure why Tess is so worried. And then it dawns on him.

Ed: Ohhhh. You fancy her!
Tess: No, I don’t!
Ed: Yes, you do!
Tess: OK… I just don’t know if she likes me or not. I mean, I think she might, but you know what I’m like. I’m just crap at picking up on these things.
Ed: She did mention someone.
Tess: Really? Who?
Ed: Just someone, but they didn’t need a ticket to the show.
Tess: Oh, great. So it’s someone who’s going to the show.
Ed: Or…

Tess: Or someone who’s IN the show. I am someone who’s in the show! I mean, do you think she meant me?
Ed: (teasing) Or Nora. (sincerely) Why didn’t you tell me that you liked her?
Tess: I just felt weird, carrying on like normal without Cat around.

We all did. Wait, “did”? Are we using past tense already?

Tess decides she can’t wait to open her first-night survival kit from Lexy. It’s “a little something for before and after the show.” The “after” is champagne, and the “before” is Immodium. They giggle. The whole thing is sort of dorky but mostly sweet — just like Ed and Tess themselves.

Sam is on her way to work. And look, now we know which way Lexy decided to go, after her moment of indecision on the pavement: right toward Sam.

Sam: What do you want?
Lexy: Not the warmest welcome I’ve ever had.
Sam: Well, I’m late.
Lexy: Um, I won’t hold you up. Look… I just need you to know that you were wrong.
Sam: (scoffing) There’s nothing new there.
Lexy: I really, um… I really didn’t know about Cat and Frankie.
Sam: You want an apology? Is that why you’re here? (with mock sincerity) I’m very sorry. OK?
Lexy: Might want to work on the whole apology thing. That level of sincerity, it’s a bit overpowering. Look, I get it. You want to deal with this on your own. I understand. I’ll leave you alone. But if you ever need someone, you’ve got my number.

It certainly does seem like Sam has Lexy’s number. If you catch my drift. But I can’t take much more of mean Sam: she’s very cold and almost hateful. I guess that could be fully realistic for a cop — they see so much of the worst of human nature all the time — but it still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for the Sam we knew before Cat’s death. Even when she was angry, she was honest and careful and tried to make the best of things. Now she’s more like Son of Sam than Sam.

At the hospital, Lexy gets a text. She seems sort of irritated when she hears the beep, but then she smiles when she sees it’s from Tess: “Bring valium! I’m going in!!!!” Lexy texts back: “You don’t need drugs. You’ll nail it.”

Lexy’s smile suggests some real fondness for Tess, and maybe even an awareness that Tess is clearly the better choice in terms of niceness and sweetness and happiness and fun — which may not be the better choice for Lexy at all. And which makes me want to say, “Poop.”

At the police station, Sam is late — I guess she wasn’t kidding about that part. Ryder asks her to present the details of an imminent raid, the culmination of “Operation Beehive.” Surely a raid with that name should be presented by John Waters.

Sam can barely get through the briefing; she’s twitchy and her voice is shaking. At one point she seems to freeze, so Ryder takes over.

Ryder finds Sam afterward and wonders whether she’s all right. She shrugs and insists she’s fine.

Meanwhile, at The Space, Sadie pretends to work while Jo and Lauren argue. It seems Lauren has forgotten about something Jo told her about weeks ago. Sadie, you’re far too delighted by this marital discord.

As Lauren leaves, she squeezes Sadie’s hand and delivers a message.

Lauren: I’ll be there about 3-ish.
Sadie: The eagle has landed?

This phrase can be used in lots of ways; I think Sadie is mocking Lauren’s cloak-and-dagger manner. Let’s think up some fun code phrases based on Lip Service! “The begonias have been delivered”; “The bracelet has been inscribed”; “The daughter has been disowned”; “The ketamine has been snorted”; “The cheese has been pilfered”; “The mortuary greeter has been Frankied”; “The lady-mound has been rubbed.”

Jo is right on Lauren’s heels, and she takes the hand that so recently held Sadie’s. This is a mess, and I’m starting to worry about Sadie’s not-so-hardened heart.

At the theater, the Vanya cast is making final preparations for the big night. Tess is startled to see Nora sitting smugly in the front row, as if she’s Simon Cowell — or, better yet, Zach or Mr. Granziger.

I wonder which theater that is? The candyfloss color scheme is very striking.

Nora goes up to the stage to have a heart-to-heart with Tess: she wants to “clear the air” about Ed. You’d expect her to say something about the “self-centered bitch” comment from last week, but no, she’s not even going to acknowledge that. Instead, Nora explains to Tess that Ed is so caught up in his geekery, he doesn’t understand “real women.” Tess gives her the most hilarious fake sympathy look.

The geekery thing is why Nora “just had to finish it with him.” Yes, Nora is saying that she broke up with Ed, when it was very clearly the other way around. Tess, who is drinking water as Nora says this, almost does a spit take in response to the poppycock. Actually, why didn’t she? More physical comedy from Tess next season! (I am pretending it’s going to happen. Don’t take that away from me just yet.)

Tess goes right to Hugh’s dressing room to tell him about Nora’s delusions, and of course to get some support for her Lexy lust. But Hugh is drowning his own sorrows: his wife wants a divorce. Tess tries to shore him up (and take away his flask), but he’s despondent. Hugh’s storyline hasn’t been much fun. Remember when he was the sadder-but-wiser aging actor, rather than the desperate, drunken cuckold? Sigh.

At the hospital, Lexy tells Declan she went to see Sam.

Lexy: Why do I always do it? Why do I let myself get sucked in?
Declan: ‘Cause you’re too nice.
Lexy: What was I thinking? I was imagining there was some kind of connection between us — when her girlfriend just died.

I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to giggle at that, but Lexy’s sarcasm and self-mockery made me do it.

Declan tells her not to waste any more energy on Sam.

Declan: Go for Tess. She’s funny, she’s hot, and the two of you get on great.
Lexy: Maybe I will. I’m sick of falling into the same old patterns. I find someone who’s a bit damaged, I put them back together, and when they’re all mended…
Declan: They fuck off.
Lexy: How about someone actually wanting me, for a change?

Arrrggh. Now we know it’s not going to happen: it seems that on Lip Service, a character must never choose a happy, healthy partner when a dark, dramatic one is available.

It’s time for the Operation Beehive raid. Sam is having a little trouble breathing again, but she looks pretty good in her Serious Cop Gear.

Ryder finds her and can see she’s anxious and edgy again. (Instance no. 2 of my girlfriend yelling, “Pull yourself together!”)

Ryder: What’s the matter?
Sam: Nothing. Fucking hell! Why does there always have to be something wrong?
Ryder: Sam, there IS something wrong. I think maybe you should go home.
Sam: I’m going nowhere.

You said it, not me.

At the gallery, Sadie has another posh customer. The woman sorta looks like pre-Chaz Chastity Bono. That’s just an observation, not a comment on Chaz specifically or trans men generally (or Sonny or Cher in any way at all).

The woman is interested in a £35,000 vase that, according to her, follows you around the room. Sadie pretends to agree with this and goes into super-competent salesperson mode. Why don’t these people realize that Sadie’s mocking them?

The customer asks whether she can use the bathroom, and Sadie says, “Of course; just through here, Madam.” Hmm, “madam” has never sounded quite so much like “sucker.”

Back at the theater, Hugh is doing some breathing exercises. Just when it begins to seem like he might actually get himself together, he makes the mistake of relaxing with a tabloid. He turns the page to see a photo spread of “Thomas Delaware at home with his partner Maggie.”

Onstage, Nora and Tess are finding their lights. They suddenly hear shouting and crashing and “Not my fucking wife!”

Tess tries to get Hugh back on track. He’s certainly found his motivation, but it’s the wrong one: he wants to give a good performance in order to give his wife “the husband she deserves” and get her back.

At the gallery, Sadie is checking her look in the mirror. Oh, what’s that on the sink? Why, it’s a very expensive-looking watch that probably belongs to one Ms. Not-Chastity-Bono. And now it’s in Sadie’s pocket, natch.

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Declan pretends to need a second opinion, but he really just wants Lexy to deliver a patient to the X-ray department so he doesn’t have to suffer yet another rejection from “Sex-ray,” that radiologist he fancies. Does anyone care?

It’s time to set Operation Beehive a-buzzin’. Sam, still shaky but committed to doing her job, gets to give the “Go!” order. And for a few seconds it’s actually kind of exciting. Except I really have no idea what happened. There’s some shouting and some handcuffing, and there are bad guys and cops, but none of it makes any sense. Where’s Mary Beth Lacey with a coherent explanation when you need one?

At the hospital, Lexy is doing that favor for Declan — delivering a patient to X-ray.

Lexy: (to Sex-ray) He’s got a fractured tibia, and my friend fancies you.

The guy already knew that. Lexy tries to paint Declan as “not that bad a guy, really,” but she’s as tired of this whole thing as we are:

Lexy: Can you please just put him out of his misery? ‘Cause, no offense, but I’m fucking sick of hearing about you.

Amen. I mean, end of!

Oh, before I forget: last week I read the first issue of a pretty good comic called Mind the Gap, and it mentioned the “Glasgow scale.” Turns out that’s the Glasgow Coma Scale. If you were a doctor in Glasgow — especially one with as good a sense of humor as Lexy’s — wouldn’t you reference the coma scale as often as possible? Especially when Declan makes a misogynist remark or a bad joke: “You’ve just put my motor response at a 3 on the Glasgow scale: abnormal flexion to painful stimuli.”

Back at the raid, Ryder is calling Sam on his radio. He’s gone after some bad guy or another, I guess; anyway, the point is that Sam still can’t breathe and therefore can’t exactly go help him. See, this is the problem with being all stoic and closed-off, Sam: you forget that other people exist.

I wish I could forget that Declan exists. He and Sex-ray (what the fuck is this guy’s name, anyway?) are finally making dinner plans, but I’d rather pick apart the Operation Beehive scene in a Zapruder sort of way than watch another three seconds of Declan.

Sam finally gets to Ryder. He’s all bloody, and I should feel sad, but the makeup is just so unconvincing. It’s like someone dipped one of those sticky hand toys in barbecue sauce and threw it at his face. (Reason 42,821 to love and/or question the internet: here’s a digital sticky hand to play with.)

At the theater, Ed is bringing Tess some flowers. Nora thinks they’re for her, of course. Nora takes the opportunity to question Tess’s acting talent as well as Ed’s writing talent. But it’s not always smart to get into a battle of wits with a writer:

Nora: (dripping with derision) How is your book going?
Ed: Good, yeah. I’ve changed the lead character to an evil, self-obsessed hobbit. It wasn’t a very big rewrite.

They trade a few more barbs. Ed gets the last word by requesting some of Nora’s signed photos for his and Tess’s regular darts tournament. You’re a big dork, Ed, but I don’t think you’ve done anything out of chracter all season long — which is really saying something.

Whoa! Naked ladies! Sadie and Lauren are having sex. Lauren tells Sadie she’s beautiful, and she seems to really mean it. She just gazes at Sadie for a moment. Sadie blinks and looks at Lauren in a way that makes me worry about her heart again.

Also, the music in the background is saying something about “crash[ing] and burn[ing] before your eyes,” which isn’t exactly encouraging.

Speaking of beautiful, look at this melancholy shot of the Glasgow sky:

It’s immediately followed by a shot of melancholy Lexy, who’s sitting in the hospital cafeteria. A happy couple is smiling and canoodling nearby; Lexy watches them with no small amount of envy.

She picks up her BlackBerry and calls … Tess! This show is such a tease.

Tess: Thank you for my awesome present. Love champagne, and the Immodium’s come in pretty useful, actually. (hastily) Not that I’ve got the runs or anything.

I would like a set of “Faces of Tess” cards. That way I could just hold up the relevant expression card whenever I need to, instead of making the face myself, which sometimes gets me in trouble.

A postorgasmic Lauren and Sadie are still gazing at each other. Sadie is obviously smitten and hopeful and vulnerable. She gives Lauren a gift: that watch she found on the bathroom sink in the gallery.

Lauren loves it, even though she knows Sadie can’t afford such a thing. Sigh. Sadie has something else for Lauren too:

Sadie: And … a ticket to the play tonight. Oh, come on. No one needs to know we’re together.

Lauren, I guess you don’t know this, but I really don’t think it’s a common thing for Sadie to plead with her eyes like that. Look at that!

Lauren finally agrees, and this is the other thing that’s uncommon for Sadie: a look of simple joy.

IF YOU BREAK HER HEART, I WILL BREAK YOUR FACE!

It’s time for a horrible feeling of déjà vu: Sam is at the hospital again, standing outside some double doors, waiting to find out the fate of someone she loves.

No wonder she can barely breathe. This is too much for one person.

At the theater, the director has a message for Hugh: his wife called, to say that by sending her flowers, he’s in breach of his restraining order. The director then moves on to telling everyone he’s proud of them; Hugh slinks away after the accolades. Tess tries to follow him, but Nora grabs her for a “break a leg” and a hug that probably feels more like an anacondian death squeeze.

Whuh? Oh, I see — it was a distraction tactic. As Tess goes on along after Hugh, Nora strolls over to the samovar (there’s always a samovar in Chekhov!) and pours a whole lot of malt vinegar into it. Pranks like these are only fun if the prankster is puckish, rather than yucky.

Side note: I recently enjoyed a meal at the Penny Farthing. I asked for malt vinegar for my chips, and the clueless busboy brought me balsamic vinegar. Balsamic! Talk about yucky (not generally; just on chips).

Hugh is leaving his wife a mean message. He wants to go to see her, but Tess reminds him that the last visit didn’t go so well. She pleads with him to just get dressed.

Hugh: How can I give my Vanya now, when I feel so empty inside?

Haha! Ironic. ‘Cause, you know, Vanya himself… never mind.

You know, this entire time I assumed Hugh was playing the doctor, not Uncle Vanya. Shrug.

It’s just about showtime. Sadie is outside the theater, waiting for Lauren. Lexy and Ed arrive.

Sadie: (looking Lexy up and down) Someone’s made an effort.
Lexy: Yeah; I’m not the only one!

Lexy wants to know whether they’re finally going to get to meet the “phantom girlfriend.”

Sadie: Look, don’t drop me in it. As far as you know, she’s my aunt, OK?

Is there such a thing as an absentee aunt?

At the hospital, Sam is washing the blood off her hands. I am not going to make a Lady Macbeth joke. She stares into the mirror again. “Pull yourself together!” says my girlfriend, no longer believing that to be remotely possible.

But at least Sam’s face is no longer frozen and cold. Something is shifting; she takes out her phone and calls someone.

First we have another call to deal with: the “Act I beginners call” for Uncle Vanya. OMG, opening night! I want to see the whole entire production. In a perfect world, that would be a DVD extra.

Tess goes to Hugh’s dressing room. It’s locked and there’s no answer. Pull yourself together! That time I was the one saying it.

I love this caption for the audience shot (the actual BBC caption):

The curtain opens and the play begins. Hugh’s cue comes early; there’s a long pause as everyone wonders what’s going on and Tess, in the wings, mutters “Fuck!” under her breath. But he finally shows up, buttoning his sleeves and zipping his fly — and delivering his lines quite nicely all the same.

Sadie is still outside. A random couple walks by, curious about the Tron. Sadie gives them her tickets and trudges off dejectedly.

Across the street, a familiar-looking blonde watches Sadie from a cafe window.

It’s time for Tess’s first line! Unfortunately, it involves drinking some tea from that vinegar-spiked samovar. Tess takes a sip, tastes the vinegar, hesitates, and then manages — for possibly the first time in her life — not to let it all show on her face.

Thank you, Fiona Button, for being totally wonderful all season long.

At Jo and Lauren’s, a dinner party is about to begin. Jo is wearing that same 1970 shirt/sweater/whatever that she was wearing when she met Sadie. Maybe it represents “the number of times I’ve suspected my wife is cheating on me.”

Lauren is looking nervously at her new watch and grumbling about the fact that the dinner guests are late. Jo doesn’t understand why Lauren thinks she needs to rush off to the office anyway.

Jo: I mean, can’t you just forget about work for one bloody night, Lauren?

“Office.” “Work.” This is like those clever names for bars: “The Office,” “Therapy,” “The Doctor’s Office,” “The Gym.”

Hey, guess who’s coming to dinner! Someone who has recently misplaced a watch and is very interested in Lauren’s.

At the hospital, Sam is having a surreal experience.

She looks through that same frosted windowpane, and not the festive Christmasy kind.

This is from episode 202:

And this is now:

Impossible to bear. Even for a steely, stiff-upper-lipped British cop.

But at least this time the result is very different: Ryder is awake and mostly OK. Sam sits by him and takes his hand, and apologizes for not getting to him in time.

Sam: You were right. I’m so sorry.

Whether or not you like Sam, you have to admit that Heather Peace (like just about everyone on this show) does a lot with throwaway lines. She makes those simple, pedestrian sentences seem like knifepoints aimed back at her own gut.

Ryder says “Forget it” in a way that lets Sam know he’s pretty much done with her.

Meanwhile, Uncle Vanya is proceeding apace. And Hugh is surreptitiously futzing with his phone. So unprofessional!

Tess has another startling moment when she turns the page of a diary or ledger, only to see a provocative photo of a woman. The photo is only slightly porny, unlike the ones we slipped into books and magazines in my high school plays. But those were always closing night pranks, not opening.

Tess keeps her cool for a second time. In the wings, Nora smirks.

And that’s the first half. Tess finds Nora and confronts her.

Nora: It’s what we do in the theater, Tess. You know, a bit of opening night fun. Lighten up, yeah?

Again I say no, that’s for closing night, when you don’t really care what happens. Ridiculous.

Ed and Lexy line up for interval drinks. Lexy’s phone beeps: finally we get to find out who Sam called.

As Lexy ponders that, Ed goes to Tess’s dressing room to say hello. Tess is upset about Nora’s pranks, but she cheers up as soon as Ed says that Lexy’s enjoying the play and can’t take her eyes off Tess. I don’t even know if I still wish that were true. I do know that Tess’s elation is hurting me.

Lexy is in the theater bar, having a beer and trying to figure out what to do. You could call this a choice between love and art. And if you ask me, love and art are the two things that make life worth living, so how can you possibly choose one over the other?

Like this: Lexy leaves, somehow looking both uncertain and determined.

Sadie, having been stood up, has her defenses up. She flags down a taxi. Where will she go? Who will pay for this? BREAK HER HEART AND I WILL BREAK YOUR FACE!

Sam goes home to her painfully empty flat. Cut to Lexy, walking somewhere. What could these two things possibly have in common?

At the theater, the show must go on. But Tess sees Lexy’s empty chair and stumbles a little. Oh, Tess.

At Jo and Lauren’s, Cath (she of the watch and the £35,000 vase) is quizzing Lauren about her watch. Lauren pretends not to be able to remember where she got it. Lauren’s phone beeps. It’s a text from Sadie: “Are you coming out? Or am I coming in?” Clearly I don’t have to defend Sadie: she can more than take care of herself.

Tess is in the midst of one of those very Chekhovian moments.

Sonya/Tess: I’m not beautiful.
Yelena/Nora: You have beautiful hair!
Sonya/Tess: No! When someone is plain, people always say, “You have beautiful hair. You have beautiful eyes.” I’ve loved him now for six years. I look at the door and wait, hoping that he’ll come in at any moment, but … he … he never looks at me. Doesn’t see me.

Her voice wavers and her lower lip quivers and she’s about to cry. It’s perfect: Sonya should be sad, on the verge of tears, lovesick and unrequited. Lexy has done Tess a favor, acting-wise. But heart-wise, I can’t even talk about it.

That truly lovely bit of acting is followed by a weird fade to Lauren and Sadie arguing outside Lauren’s house. From the sublime to the ridiculous, I guess.

Sadie wants to know why Lauren stood her up. And Lauren wants to know what Sadie is playing at. Lauren takes off the watch and slams it into Sadie’s hand.

Lauren: I have just had the most excruciating dinner of my life.

The most excruciating dinner of your life?! Sadie is in the throes of the most excruciating desire of her life — not for Lauren specifically, necessarily, but for someone to see her and love her for who she is. But, you know, your dinner thing is pretty bad too.

Sadie looks vulnerable and ashamed as she confesses that of course she couldn’t afford the watch; she can barely pay the rent.

Lauren: You’re fucked up. You’re so fucked up. You’re living in a fantasy world, aren’t you?

Lauren sticks her finger in Sadie’s face and says, “Stay away from me and my wife.”

And Sadie can only stand there and cry. I warned you, Lauren. Face breakage commencing as soon as I can get to Glasgow.

Sam is having a drink. There’s a knock at the door.

Lexy, as sad as I am about Tess, I give you credit for going to Sam’s flat unannounced to make your case. That’s pretty damn romantic.

Before we can get to that, Tess has to utter those hopeless-yet-hopeful last words of Uncle Vanya: “We shall rest. We shall rest.” Fiona Button does this so well. Why can’t I see the whole thing?!

The curtain closes, then opens again so they can take their bows. The main players step forward one by one: first Nora, to polite applause; then Hugh, to slightly stronger applause; and then Tess, to hoots and hollers and thunderous applause that you knew was coming but that is still really, really delicious. Yes!

At Sam’s flat, Sam is reciting her weaknesses and failures. She feels like every choice she makes is wrong and everything is her fault. She admits that she knew, deep down, about Cat and Frankie, but she turned a blind eye. She can’t trust herself anymore; she doesn’t think she can trust anyone anymore.

Lexy: You can trust me.

Sam apparently agrees.

At the after-show party, Tess finally stares Nora down.

Tess: Can you not feel good about yourself unless you’re making someone else feel like shit? Are you that insecure?

Woo! Nora is speechless. She starts to try to argue, but Tess just says, “Yeah” in a dismissive way and walks off.

That was pretty satisfying! I’ve been waiting for it all season. And the way Tess walked off was very Sex in the City, in a good way.

Tess finds Ed. The conversation immediately turns to Lexy; Tess has a text from her about having to go to the hospital. Lame. But probably the least painful way to do that.

Ed tries to pretend that going out with a doctor would suck, but Tess knows that’s a lie. Tess! We need a season 3 just to get you some happy sexy times.

Back at Sam’s flat, it’s happening. Here it is! The moment we’ve been leading up to all season — er, make that two-thirds of the season, after the horrific death scene and all. It’s the Sexy scene you’ve been waiting for.

It’s not quite what I expected. It’s definitely hot, and they’re gorgeous, and I’m sort of relieved that Snowman Sam has thawed into a human again, and Heather Peace definitely seems very gay and very comfortable with all of this and nobody’s wearing any underwear, but … it’s just not quite happy or fulfilling or any of those positive things. It feels sad. Maybe even doomed.

Speaking of doomed, Sadie is using a knife — the cheese knife?! — to break into the gallery. She expertly disables the alarm, goes right to the safe, and scoops up a whole lot of cash.

And she has an audience. It’s Janice! Remember her? The unintelligible one who went home with Frankie, only to be turned away?

Apparently Janice and Sadie have a history: Janice stole all of Sadie’s money. Is this the setup for season 3? Sadie and Janice skip the country — maybe ending up in NYC, where they’re reunited with Frankie? Yeah, Lauren would tell me I’m living in a fantasy world.

On the way out, Janice notices the vase the watch-wearer wanted earlier. Janice wants to take it with her.

Sadie: No.
Janice: Why not?
Sadie: (knocking the vase to the floor) It’s broken.

And Sadie grins her half-Cheshire, half-Joker grin. She and Janice hop in Janice’s car (a Mercedes?!) and hit the road. I think I’ll miss you most of all, scarecrow Sadie.

Tess arrives home and nudges Lexy’s door open. But of course Lexy’s not there. I can’t take this anymore!

Meanwhile, I don’t think Lexy agrees with my assessment of the sex scene. She seems pretty content.

But then her phone rings. It’s Tess, of course. She asks Lexy whether she’s still at the hospital. Lexy hesitates, but then says yes. Dammit.

And Tess, in Lexy’s bedroom, is bereft. She even inhales the scent of Lexy’s pillow.

And her resigned, sighing face is the last image of the season. Tess!

I take back the thing I said about love vs. art: choose art. Stay at the theater and sit through all of Uncle Vanya. Let the soapy, well-acted show unfold for six episodes even though episode two went all pear-shaped. Because sometimes love and art are pretty much the same thing, and this show has had a few moments in that intersection. And in the wasteland that is lesbians on TV, a few moments feel like a whole lot.

Season 3, please!

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