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mad men - michael ginsberg

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So...

[He can't quite seem to decide whether to use a happy or sad tone, whether to make a somber or pleased expression, so he's alternating between the two, sitting on the floor of his apartment cross-legged, looking earnestly at the device as it records.]

I guess that's it. I mean, I guess we're all going home. Definitely. And I want to go home, I need to go home, but I can't help but...

[A frown, a vague gesture that could really mean anything.]

You know how sometimes when you get something you want it turns out that you didn't want it as much as you thought you did? I don't know if that's a good example here. I still want to go home. I just know that there're a lot of people that don't. And a lot of people that I'm not looking forward to saying goodbye to. And I was tempted to just not say goodbye because that's easier, but it's also a lot shittier of me.

So...

[There's that drawn out so again, and now his face seems to have decided that sad is a good expression to stick with.]

If you want to... you know, say our last goodbyes, or whatever other depressing way I can phrase it, let me know. Only I can't promise I won't cry.

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[It's quite a feat to reduce him to utter silence, but she seems to have managed it. The expression on his face can't quite seem to decide whether he wants to burst into tears or burst into a stupid grin, but of course he can't stay quiet for long.]

I don't think that's weird. I mean, I think so too. That I would have fallen in love with you, I mean. I've never been in love. I have no idea what it feels like or what it means or anything but I'm pretty sure I would've found out. So I'm really glad I wasn't the only one thinking that.

[Silence is a better reaction than she'd anticipated. She isn't having the greatest luck with confessions of love. Confessions of probably-eventually love must be different.]

Really? [Well, she's going to start crying even if he doesn't.] Maybe it's better if you don't know. Or keep not knowing, at least for a while. It's nice, mostly, but if the person you love doesn't love you back? It kind of sucks.

I don't know if I could deal with loving someone who didn't love me back. I'm very fragile.

[It's partially a joke, but it's also kind of true.]

I'd say that anyone you loved who didn't love you back was probably crazy, but I know it's more complicated than that. This kinda shit always is. Maybe that's why I'm not so great at it. It's weird, though, because you never made me feel like I was shitty at it. At relating to people, I mean. About the whole probably-someday-loving-you thing.

[Okay, he's trying really hard not to tear up. Breathing. Breathing is necessary.]

It's hard, but a lot of things are. You're probably not as fragile as you think--not that I want you to have to test that. Ever.

[Okay, there are tears now. She's not even going to pretend that she's not crying because they have reached a point of no return with the sad here.]

Thanks for the thought, anyway, and you're not bad at it. You're nice and likeable and funny, you just... maybe people just don't want to get you, and that's their loss. And, you know... when you go home? You'll find someone who gets how amazing you are and you'll both love each other and it'll be okay.

It's been tested. I mean, not in that way, but in other ways. You're right, I'm not as fragile as I think. I've survived a lot of shit...

[He shakes his head.]

I know, I know, this isn't the time to talk about all of that. I'm not sure what we're supposed to be talking about? Am I supposed to tell you that you'll find someone who gets how amazing you are and you'll both love each other, too? Because I believe that, I really do, but I'm jealous as hell that it's not going to be me.

[Okay, whoops, now he's crying.]

I'm sorry.

[She doesn't even know what kind of shit he's survived, but he shouldn't have had to, so there.]

Ginsberg, no--don't. I mean, I'm dead at home, so it's not like I have a... no, you're right, this isn't the right time for this. Can I just...? Do you want to meet up somewhere? I really want to hug you.

[Nope, time for more tears, because thinking about her being dead is just not okay.]

Maybe you can go home with somebody else. Somewhere where you don't have to be dead. I really, really don't want you to be dead. That sounds so incredibly stupid to say out loud but... Yeah, yeah, we can meet up somewhere. I have something for you, anyway.

I'd like to. Go somewhere where I'm not dead, I mean, so that's a pretty legitimate thing to say.

Somewhere quiet, maybe? Where there won't be that many people around to witness all of the crying I'm going to do?

You could...

[Okay, no, definitely not talking about that over the network. Better to do it in person.]

How about we meet somewhere in the gardens? I mean, the weather's okay, and if we're outdoors, we'll have beautiful surroundings while we cry. There's something to that. I can be there soon, I just need to grab a couple things. Is that okay?

It's always good to have somewhere pretty to cry. That's good for me. Do you want to meet by the cherry blossom tree? The one that always has its petals?

Okay. Yeah. The cherry blossom tree that always has its petals sounds like it should be a metaphor for something right now, or maybe I'm trying to think in metaphors because I'm trying to stave off crushing anxiety and sadness, but...

[Deep breaths. Again.]

I'll see you soon.

[He gets there as quickly as he can. Of course he does. He wouldn't have been able to not rush out of the apartment as soon as she'd told him where to go.]

[If it's a metaphor, it's completely accidental. Maybe her subconscious is trying to make a comment about how some things never come to fruition, or... no, probably not.

Penny arrives after him since leaving the Welcome Center is never quite as easy as it sounds. She has, for the moment, pulled herself together. And would it be weird for her to just say hello with a hug? Yes? She goes for it, since Ginsberg has a high weird tolerance. Or requires a high weird tolerance. Whatever.]

Hey.

[He's incredibly happy to be greeted with a hug. It's what he's been feeling like he's needed, all day, and he doesn't even have to ask for it. He just sets the bag he's holding on the ground and wraps his arms around her tightly, trying to comfort himself and her at the same time.]

Hey. I'm glad you... I mean, I'm really glad we're able to... Never mind. You know what I mean.

[She likes hugs, giving and receiving. They're especially welcome when something is coming to an end and the future is scary and uncertain and it probably won't include a lot of people that it really should include. As such, she stays attached.]

It's good to see you, too. How're you holding up? Crushing anxiety and sadness aside, I mean.

I've been okay.

[Except that it's obvious in his face that he hasn't been, not at all, and he's a shitty liar, when it comes to lying about emotional states.]

No, actually, I haven't been okay. I've been a fucking mess. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I'm a disaster. Not that that's anything new. How're you holding up? And I brought you something, I don't know if you want it now or later, I don't know if it's completely stupid, I don't know a whole lot of anything except that I have no idea how to do this.

Hey, one thing at a time, okay? I'm sure it's not stupid, whatever it is, and I have no idea what you don't know how to do, but... don't worry. I mean, not about what I'll think.

I just, um...

[Time to just blurt it out.]

Like I was saying, I really don't want you to die, and I just wanted to ask you if... wanted to let you know that if... I mean, if you want to come home with me, you're more than welcome to. I know it wouldn't be the same and you'd probably find a lot of things to dislike about it but you'd be alive and I'd be happy to have you there. That's all.

Ginsberg...

[She really wants to say yes. It'd probably be a happier existence than the one she thinks she needs to choose, but...]

I'd like to, but I can't. [Penny pauses to give him a quick, apologetic kiss.] You have your life there, and I have this... I have somewhere else I think I need to go, but I'll be alive there, and I talked to the Dog god and he said we get to keep our memories, so at least I can say that I won't forget you without lying?

[She'll just... try not to cry on his jacket. Okay.]

Yeah, okay. I just thought... I mean, I thought I'd offer. As long as you're alive and as long as I don't have to forget you, it's... I get it. And if you change your mind, which I'm really hoping you will, because in the end, I'm incredibly selfish, you just let me know, okay? Not that I expect you to change your mind. I get it. You have places you need to be.

[She may be trying not to cry on his jacket, but he's not trying to stop the tears from flowing freely down his face. He barely even notices that his cheeks are wet, as a matter of fact.]

[She kind of wishes she was more selfish, because going back to 1968 with Ginsberg sounds less bleak than going home with Wilson and trying to keep him from dying from cancer. This is going to be hard either way.]

Would you believe me if I said that I'd totally go with you if this wasn't a life-or-death for someone kind of decision? Because I think I would, and it'd probably mess up your entire life because universes aren't supposed to have people just showing up in them, but if you wouldn't mind...

[Penny brings a hand to his cheek and thumbs away some tears.]

I really do like you, y'know.

I'd believe you. And I'd even say that I admire that you'd do that. Not a lot of people would. And my entire life is already pretty messed up. I think having you around would make things a lot less messed up. Hypothetically, I mean. I know it's not going to happen, so I'm not even going to try to imagine it.

[He offers the tiniest, most pathetic of smiles when she wipes away some of his tears.]

I really like you, too. And I hope whoever you're going home with really likes you, too, because they should recognize what a lucky son of a bitch they are.

I really, really wish I could un-mess up your life. I couldn't, though. I messed mine up pretty well, and then there's that whole thing where I'm a bad luck magnet. [She forces a smile, but it's sad.] But you'll be okay. Things have to turn around eventually.

[He is actually going to kill her with feelings. Maybe she should rethink this. Maybe Ginsberg needs her more than Wilson does.]

Well... he doesn't like me like that, but we're good friends.

Can I say something? And you can choose not to listen to it if you don't want to because god knows I'm shitty at giving advice and I'm even worse at taking it, but... I'd never expect you to come along for the sake of un-messing-up my life. Wherever you go, you should be going because it's going to help your life. I mean, you deserve to be happy, not just the vehicle for someone else's happiness, okay? This sounds like, uh, one of those stupid self-help books, and I guess there's no way to avoid it sounding trite as hell, but...

[Where the hell is his great way with words when he needs it the most?]

You get what I'm saying. Don't come home with me because you want to fix me. Don't go home with this other guy because you want to fix him. Go because it'll help you. Be selfish for once. I highly recommend selfishness. I can't say it's always worked out for me in the past, but, well, like I said, I'm bad at giving advice, and worse at taking it.

No, I get it, and it's really good advice, but I wouldn't know where to go if it wasn't for someone or something, if that makes sense? I mean, I'll be happy wherever I am as long as I'm doing something useful, and this place I'm planning on going has plenty of homeless shelters and soup kitchens, and those are kind of my thing. It'll be nice, and I'll be alive and in one of those tiny apartments and I'll get to paint and become half-decent at playing the violin again and grow old and do everything else I didn't think I'd get to do.

[She's dead serious. Penny literally has no direction in life unless there are people to help, and she wouldn't know where to start looking for happiness if selfishness is required.]

So I guess that's kind of like taking your advice. It'd be better if I could bring you with me, or if I knew that there's someone who'd love me waiting somewhere...

[Oh, good. Now she's crying properly now, too.]

I know you said that you don't really get the love thing, but you've made me feel more loved in the last couple months than I've basically ever felt, so... even if you don't know what you're doing, you're doing it right.

There're a lot of homeless shelters and soup kitchens where I come from, too, and there're all kinds of good causes to fight for, like being against the war or being for civil rights, and there're plenty of tiny apartments because it's New York, and...

[He shakes his head.]

Sorry. That whole selfish thing again. I really am happy for you. Just knowing that you'll be alive and painting and helping people is enough. I, um... The thing I got you is kinda related to that, I guess.

[He picks up the bag and holds it out to her, a little awkwardly. Inside she'll find a nice set of colored pencils, and a somewhat fancy sketchbook.]

The, um, the first page on the sketchbook is just something I drew. Nothing exciting, but I wanted to get you flowers, and then I realized that'd be a shitty gift because they'd just die and make you sadder, so...

[The first page, if she looks, contains a drawing done by him -- sunflowers and daisies in bright colors, somewhat cartoony in style, all over the page.]

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