I'm All Cried Out And This Story Has Only Just Started
It's times like this that make me wish that Kimberly McCullough was not the absurdly talented, consummate professional that she is, because if she'd just check out of this story (you know, the way that the writers certainly will once they get bored of it. "A groundbreaking, iconic character? Snooze. What's Spinelli up to?!") and put in a merely competent performance, I probably wouldn't burst into tears at every single word she says and probably wouldn't spend the next few months with puffy, bloodshot eyes and a broken heart.
But no! She has to be fantastic and heartbreaking and there is seriously no way I am going to be able to make it through her exit because seriously, seriously, seriously, my heart hurts already.
Mac: So I'm not old. I just need to get a life?
Robin: That would be nice. It would be nice to see that before I die.
SOB TO THE TENTH POWER!
Robin, dealing with something mysterious and terrifying, went to her bridge to discuss her issues with Stone and I'm not spoiled but...they're going there, aren't they? They're going to kill her off and have it be gut-wrenching and horrible and then Jason will brood some more because God knows we haven't see enough depressed Jason lately and then the story will abruptly shift to another mob war and then Robin will be mentioned once in a while, usually by Mac, until they stop trotting Mac out for even the briefest of cameos. I mean, right? Because Kimberly McCullough IS leaving and General Hospital DOES hate having characters leave Port Charles alive and Robin DOES seem like she's coming to terms with her inevitable death (although it also seems like she's completely resigned to it. Shouldn't Robin be more of a fighter? Or has Maggie stolen all of the town's feistiness? She races kids around the hospital in wheelchairs, guys, she is cah-razy! And haha, she called Robin a battle axe to Patrick--what a meet-cute that was, amirite? Where was I? Oh, right, Robin. That seems like the kind of attitude one would have after months of grappling with impending doom, not after a few days and at the start of a story. But expecting actual pacing from this writing staff is a lost cause).
I think I just sprained something jumping to conclusions, but this is GH, so going with the most predictable of all outcomes seems like the safest bet. Anyway! Back to Robin and her uncanny ability to make me weep.
Robin: I hear you, Stone, even if it's always in my head. I know that you wouldn't want me to be this way, especially know. I just...I don't know if I'm as strong as you were. I don't know if I can do this.
Robin: Maybe I could scatter the rose petals and watch them float away and think of them floating towards you. I don't know. I just thought it was something you would like. Something that would have made you smile. Brenda and Sonny got married, but you probably know that. You were probably watching. Unfortunately, they didn't make it. It's a shame, but sometimes love just isn't enough.
It's a testament to her acting talent that I was sniffling too loudly to interject a snide remark, like "Unfortunately, they didn't make it. It's a shame, but on the bright side, it only took Sonny thirty seconds before he started smarming on his rebound girl" and that I didn't want to ruin the moment--or my reputation as a normal person who doesn't heckle my television--by screaming "SONNY SUUUUUCKS!"
Then Mac came to make sure she was okay, and offered to let her grieve alone, but she asked him to stay and I just...I love this relationship so much, you guys. I always have. I don't know what I am going to do with myself when John J. York has to react to Robin's exit, be it to the afterlife or not, because I know it is going to be great. Assuming that he gets to have a reaction, I mean.
Mac: If Stone's death taught me anything, it's that life isn't fair.
Robin: You mean because I contracted the virus?
Mac: No. I made my peace with that a long time ago. It's just the disease itself. I can't get a handle on it.
Robin: It's a tough one.
Mac: I just want to make it better for you.
Robin: You do. You make it better everyday.
There's just one thing...
When the conversation inevitably turned to Lisa because of course it did, we can't have nice moments go unsullied, Robin got to make one of those dramatic "I'm confessing to murder...or am I?" statements and Mac's response puzzled me.
Robin: I was only defending myself.
Mac: What did you say?
Robin: It was self defense.
Mac: Robin, be extremely careful what you say to me.
Robin: I just meant that after everything Lisa has done, not just to me and Patrick, but to Maxie and Spinelli, and Steve and Elizabeth, I mean, God knows who else. Whoever killed her was doing it in self defense, even after the fact.
Mac: That's not the definition of self defense.
Knowing what I know about Mac, namely that he is fiercely devoted to Robin, I can't imagine him ever being so Super Cop with her, tossing off legal definitions and police protocol. Like, the second she said it was self defense, he should have gone into overdrive trying to cover up the murder Robin allegedly committed. Sure, it would be "unethical", but that's what uncles for their beloved nieces! Not get strict about legal terminology!
I am incredibly nervous about this story, guys. I mean, selfishly, I am nervous for my own health, because I really do see devastation (and dehydration) in my future but I'm also nervous that the writers won't do this story justice. It's Robin Fucking Scorpio. Her legacy and the stories she's driven are SO important to the history of this show and her exit story deserves to be written with care and detail and passion, all things that these writers don't seem to have in them. And that is profoundly worrisome to me. I know the performances will be stellar; I just hope that the writers treat this with the respect it deserves.
Absolutely nothing else of note happened in Port Charles today: James Franco made me regret ever having had a crush on him with the skeevy video Franco made for Fat-Headed Joss; Coleman tried valiantly to give Johnny Zacchara the nickname JZ and I judged him, harshly, for it; Ethan and Lucky talked about being nomads; and Steve is an uberdick.
Olivia: I am not pregnant.
Steve: You're not.
Olivia: No. And if I was, you seriously think I'd keep that a secret from you?
Steve: It wouldn't be the first time you kept quiet about a baby.
He then followed that with "I'm not judging" but seriously, there was so much douchey judgment in that exchange that I wouldn't have minded a scene of Olivia baking manicotti and then choking him with it.