“But there’s nothing I can do to change it.
I’ve tried to put some of the good things in as well.”
Nick has been taken away, and there’s no sign of anyone coming back to find June.
Credit: George Kraychyk/Hulu
She revs it up and sighs in near-catharsis at the feel of the rumble.
“We are still here.”
Bruce Springsteen’s “Hungry Heart” plays, loudly.
Yes, that really was Oprah.
And yes, having her play a soothing, omniscient #Resistance figure makes insanely perfect sense.
June gets out of the car with newfound determination.
She finds a warm jacket, and puts it on, holding her stomach in the mirror.
It’s a scene filled with love and hope.
Unfortunately, the memory gets cut shortsomeone else has arrived at the house.
They wander in as if nobody’s in the house, June disappearing into God-knows-where.
Fred suggests they leave; Serena commands, I’m not going anywhere without my baby."
They keep screaming for “Offred” and Nick but to no avail.
Serena decides to snoop around anyway, confident her handmaid is still on the premises.
Serena screams for Fred; it’s all the evidence she needs that June has gone.
We then cut back to June: She’s still there, hiding.
What follows is the scene between Serena and Fred that we’d been steadily building to all season.
It’s raw and full of rage, yet another indication of Yvonne Strahovski’s prowess in this role.
They throw blame at one another, Serena indicating that Nick and June have run off together.
“I let Offred see her daughter,” Fred says, delusional.
“She would’ve been grateful.”
Serena says June hates him.
Fred says June wouldn’t have kept trying to run away if Serena had shown her kindness.
Then Serena barks, remarkably, “You raped her yesterday,” with June listening right above them.
“I gave up everything for you and the cause,” she laments.
I have nothing."
Watching her in this moment, breaking down, it’s hard to argue with her.
She creaks it open, and loads it, vying with all her might to keep quietand she does.
She even gets to the point where she has a clear shot at both of them.
She couldn’t do it.
As the car drives away, June again roams outside.
It’s clear she’s struggling at this point.
She packs a bag with various essentials and heads back to the car.
But the garage door is locked.
The electricity is out.
And she can’t muster the strength to open it manually.
So she starts the car, revs the engine, and floors it.
She finally gives up.
She repeats “no” to herself, her face overcome with anxiety.
She’s about to have the baby.
She yelps in pain, gasping and groaning in between, trying to calm herself.
Snippets of her previous pregnancy continuously creep in.
(June responds, “I want doctors and drugs and nurses and lots of drugs.")
But “Holly” doesn’t merely work in such blunt contrasts.
She remembers when Janine had her baby.
These pivotal moments from June’s life, building on one another to this moment.
She lets out a sustained scream, then another one.
And then the baby is born.
June kisses and cradles her baby, smiling.
Car headlights shine outside.
She says, “We did it, Holly.”
