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After the last two high-concept, low-quality episodes, we thankfully get an offering involving a lot of romantic relationships in crisis where the director allows the story to unfold. Here's what happens:
Peggy is feeling pressure to pick -- ad-concept-wise -- between Don and Ted; this leads to tension between Ted and Peggy in the wake of The Kiss, and Ted confesses he's in love with her but doesn't want to do anything about it. Later, Abe gets stabbed in the neighborhood, prompting Peggy to express her desire to sell the new apartment. When someone throws a rock through their window, Abe agrees to sell the place, but an on-alert Peggy ends up stabbing Abe (I'll explain in the full recap), and that's enough of a catalyst to break them up. Peggy then tells Ted about it and he's like, that's too bad… let's get to work! Rude, Ted. Rude.
Pete meets with Duck, who's now a headhunter, and Duck counsels him to get his family life together in order to be more marketable. Pete goes to Joan for advice, and Joan bonds with him over mother issues. Benson and some shorts of very questionable sexuality go to the beach with Joan, and when she mentions Pete's issues, Benson comes to Pete and offers him the name of a nurse for his mother. He doesn't model the shorts for Pete yet, but we've got a few episodes to go.
Megan is playing two roles on her show now, and she gets crap about not drawing enough distinction between the two characters. Under the guise of giving her advice, Arlene comes by and tries a kiss. Although Megan rebuffs her, it doesn't become A Thing. However, Megan ends up telling Don that he's never around for her, and she doesn't know what to do about it but she's tired of pretending things are okay. Who isn't?
Betty has pretty much lost ALL the weight, but as a result, she's getting propositioned by political jerks and kind of enjoying it. Henry gets super-jealous, but also pretty turned on about it. Don then runs into Betty at a gas station, as they're both going to visit Bobby at camp, and with Henry not coming up until the day, he and Betty end up sharing some easy reminiscing about when they were in love, and just like that -- in an out-of-town setting -- they have a physical encounter. However, even though they both enjoy it, Betty tells him how she knows she can't hold his attention forever. Don confesses that sex doesn't create a real bond for him, and Betty in turn tells him she's learned that loving Don isn't the way to get his attention. The dialogue is a bit on-the-nose, and God knows there's no reason to think Don will learn anything from this, but it's a character moment that rings true, so we'll see if it hopefully means something.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!In the conference room, Don and Ted are arguing about the best strategic points to emphasize in regard to Fleischmann's, with Ted wanting to focus on its premiere status among margarines and Don being of the opinion that they have to fight the notion that even good margarine is high-quality shit compared to butter. Pete chimes in that even if Fleischmann's is the most expensive margarine, the price difference -- while significant on a percentage basis -- is still only pennies. But the low price does mean that margarine has a seventy percent market share over butter. He wraps up by saying that "seeing as I have the ear of the client," his recommendation is to emphasize taste. When Don calls to a passing Peggy, Pete wants to make sure that Don doesn't miss the fact that he just agreed with him, but Don's not satisfied with that; he has to call Peggy in to try to get someone whose opinion Ted cares about to take Don's side. Being presented with a hypothetical (?) margarine-purchase scenario, she unwittingly blows up Ted's spot by saying she'd buy the cheaper one, but when he's like, so you don't think the one that's more expensive might taste better, she backs off and tells them both their approaches sound good.
Neither Ted nor Don will let that stand, but it seems likely to me that she's holding back her opinion because she agrees with Don, so Ted eventually backs down and says they'll go with Don's approach. Don, however, isn't going to be content with "I'll let you have this one" when he wants to hear "I was wrong" or "You're a genius," not to mention the fact that he wanted Peggy to openly agree with him, so he offhandedly says no, he's not even going to be at the meeting, so Ted should do "whatever you're most comfortable with." I'm sure you're not surprised to hear that Peggy is about as enamored of this ongoing pissing match between her two bosses as she is of her new neighborhood. As they leave the room, she and Don exchange a disgusted look before heading in opposite directions. Ted -- no fan of how that went either -- follows them out, whereupon Pete berates Harry for only having said about two words so far this scene. Harry replies that he's not dumb enough to get caught in the middle of whatever that just was. "You suddenly dumber than Peggy?" Hee. Pete condescendingly snits that Harry is content in silence, but Harry tells him that to the outside world, the merged company is like the Yankees in their Murderers' Row years, and if Pete wants an ego boost, he should check in with a headhunter. Pete wonders if Harry's leaving, but Harry tells him no -- it's just nice to know he's in demand. A few weeks ago, I was involved in a Twitter discussion in which the participants imagined Mad Men set to cartoon sound effects, and my buddy Daniel offered, "Pizzicato violins every time weaselly Pete is up to something." If only that were a reality, because once Harry leaves, Pete's face is practically begging for it.
Arlene appears in a doorway, and her fairly artificial delivery of "Did you lose something?" suggests we're on set even before we cut to Megan -- wearing a blonde bob of a wig and sporting a French accent -- telling Arlene's character she was just looking for a pen. We learn that this character is "Colette," and Arlene accuses her of being interested "in things that belong to me." Megan takes a long time to reply even by normal standards, which is like an entire generation in soap-opera time, and then the director tells them to back it up and gives Megan the note she needs this character not to act like her sister Corinne. Megan looks frustrated, but Arlene tells her not to worry about it. Easy for her to say! No, I mean that; one word to her husband and that director will be getting coffee for Tisch filmmakers.
On his way out, Don pops in to see Peggy, and after some shop talk yields a cold front, Don tells her that he'll be looking at her work and forming an educated opinion. "You should try it sometime; it's what professionals do." Despite Harry's earlier comment, Peggy's smart enough not to bother coming up with one of the 180,000 ways Don has proven himself to be unprofessional since she's known him. Instead, she points out that the strategic debate he and Ted have had over Fleischmann's has been going on for weeks, and they both have a point; besides, they're both more experienced than she, so why does her opinion matter so much? He doesn't explicitly say that her relationship with both of them makes her the true tie-breaker here, but he does ask again what she thinks, and when she tells him she thinks the correct approach is somewhere in the middle of his and Ted's, he tells her no -- "there's a right and there's a wrong." Peggy's basically like, if we're going to make the subtext this transparent we might as well go all the way to text, so she tells him that what he means is there's him, and there's Ted, "and I don't know how I became in charge of turning this into a collaboration. Isn't that your job?" Sorry, Don, but that comeback sounded pretty pro to me. Peggy goes on that Don and Ted have a lot of similarities -- not all of them good -- but the difference is that Ted's interested in the idea, "and you're interested in your idea." Don sardonically demurs, saying Ted's interested in his own ideas as well, and when Peggy replies that Ted never makes her feel like Don does, Don counters, "He doesn't know you." Peggy, time just tell him his idea stinks and move on.
Betty, dressed in a gown that leaves no room for a fat suit, is having a cigarette in the foyer of some swanky place when a man in black tie and a white dinner jacket accosts her and says that Henry mentioned they were leaving. Betty gestures to the phone bank and says Henry just had to make a couple calls, to which the guy replies that it's his good fortune -- he's wanted to be alone with Betty all night. Betty informs "Mr. Dell" that she's had three children, but when he tells her he doesn't care, her expression turns from stern to playful: "No, look at me. Can you believe I've had three children?" Dell's face falls at the unexpected way Betty just seized control of the conversation, and then Henry appears with an I-know-what's-going-on face and asks Dell how his evening was. Dell recovers to tell him he raised a lot of money, and then Henry and Betty get on their way, leaving Dell to look like he's realizing he's going to have to up his conversational game if he wants a piece of that.
Peggy arrives home to find Abe, his arm in a sling, sitting with a police officer. She uncertainly asks what's going on and is informed by the policeman that Abe got stabbed after getting off the train. Abe's like, hey, bro, I don't want to worry the lady, which is ridiculous, so I'm glad the policeman doesn't hesitate to upbraid him, saying that his account of what happened is missing detail "for a reporter" (hee), and also, if he'd stayed at the hospital as was recommended to him, they'd be done already. The point of all this is that Abe is too much of an "I don't see color, man" hippie to provide a description of even his assailants' skin, and while the general principle is laudable, when you're refusing to cooperate in an investigation that might help other people avoid a similar or worse fate, you're part of the problem. I've always kind of liked Abe, so I wonder if the show is making his character more extreme here to soften his departure; if so, I have to admit it's kind of working. Also, I'm tired of his hair. When the cop leaves, Abe starts to rail about "fascist pigs," but Peggy tells him to shut up (thank you) before accusingly pointing out that he has a photographic memory. Well, if he ever grows out of his pinko stage, it'll be hilarious that he'll recall all the bullshit that spewed from his mouth in fine detail.
Speaking of, he tells her to keep talking -- as everything she says is going in a story he's writing -- before wondering why she'd "side with the cops." Not that I need to point this out again, but Peggy is a much better person than I am and as such she opts to be kind to the stabbing victim, sitting to him and trying (not well, but it is Peggy here) to be comforting as she says he obviously had a traumatic experience. However, he opts to bite the hand that strokes his hair, barking that THOSE KIDS WERE BROUGHT HERE BY SLAVE SHIPS! I mean, if he wants to talk kids, I don't know that I'd be too keen on raising them in a neighborhood in which they could literally get stabbed. I grew up in NYC in the '70s, but the worst I ever got was being mugged for my bus pass. Peggy doesn't even bother, merely pointing out that she was brought to this neighborhood by him. "And I don't care if I take a loss -- I'm gonna sell this shithole." This at least takes the fight out of Abe, but only to the point of him thanking her for worrying about him before asking her to get his typewriter so she can take some of "this" down. I'd probably take him down at this point, but Peggy merely says she's going to bed. She's not so nice, though, that she doesn't slam the double pocket doors together. Might as well get your money's worth.
Don comes home to find dinner on the table, which is apparently a regular Thursday thing, and he takes the drink Megan hands him and sits as she asks how his day was. Predictably, he turns the question around, so she tells him it was terrible, in fact, and she's not sure if she even wants to talk about it. Don tries to keep the voice cheering for "NO" inside, instead asking what's for dinner, but Megan dashes his hopes by going on that she thinks the people at work hate her. Odd to see the show going meta, but what can you do? Don disbelievingly points out that they just gave her a second part, but Megan says it makes her feel like an idiot when they tell her they can't tell "the twins" apart, especially since she feels like she's playing them very differently. She then dances around the episode's title and theme by going on that Mel told her the twins are two halves of the same person, and they want the same thing but are trying to get it in different ways. Don sighs, refills his drink, and asks if they could just go chill in front of the TV, as he's not hungry. Megan wonders if he had a bad day, but he assures her he's just tired. Tired of all these allusions that he and Ted Chaough are twins, I'd reckon. Megan seems a little disappointed, but tells him to go lie down, adding that she already packed his bag for Bobby's camp. Don tries for a reassuring smile as he tells her tomorrow's another day, but they both reveal their true feelings about that prospect by taking a liberal sip from their drinks.
In the limo on the way home (I guess this is another concession of Henry's to the fact that he's running for a State Senate seat), Henry asks the driver "John" for some privacy, and when John puts up the barrier, Henry doesn't waste much time in lighting into Betty over the fact that everyone was apparently watching her. Betty looks down and demurely says she didn't notice, but Henry leans in and asks what the douchey guy said to her, word for word. It all sounds bad, but you'll remember earlier in the season how Betty and Henry were trying to spice things up, so it doesn't surprise me that once she's come clean, they start going at it in earnest. Come to think of it, especially with Betty's exaggerated act in the car and Henry's atypical forcefulness, I wouldn't be surprised now if her encouraging the guy was part of a role-playing charade. Wouldn't be my choice, but it's better than rape scenarios.
At the office, Margaret has brought her son to visit and Roger gets him to go up the steps with him as several of the women in the office stand by beaming. No wonder; the kid is frickin' adorable in his little shorts and suspenders. Roger picks him up and brings him back down, whereupon he tries to get the kid to hit on the secretaries and they're simply charmed by both of them. In keeping with the "two halves" theme, you can make your own joke about them being mental-age twins. Joan then appears and betrays no weirdness at meeting her son's cousin as she calls him "precious," and Roger explains that it's "Ellery's" fourth birthday, and as such he's going to the zoo and the movies with his "Pop-Pop." Given Slattery's appearance on the new season of Arrested Development, it's hard not to take that as a shout-out. Roger and the kid take off...
...so let's go to another pairing that was once somewhat paternal in nature -- Pete and Duck. Yes, this appearance calls for Duck to be sober, apparently, as he's got only a glass of water to go with his food. Also, he's a headhunter these days (he tells Pete not to waste his time like "Crane" did), and apparently a good one at that, as he got Burt Peterson a VP position at McCann. However, he goes on that the bloom is off the merger's rose at this point, and he's not really sure what Pete's situation is as he was cagey on the phone. Pete wonders why Duck didn't get himself a job, but Duck isn't particularly inclined to answer, which works out since Pete isn't really interested anyway. Pete does tell him that his Rolodex is in great shape, thank you very much, but Duck tells him the issue now is Pete's lack of a role in the new company's management structure, and with seven names (albeit two deceased) on the door that are not Pete's, there could be a problem. Not to mention, "What the hell happened with Vick's?" Pete doesn't want to get into all that, understandably enough, so he invitingly tells Duck to paint him a new portrait. Duck suggests looking at things from the client side, adding that he's got a Head of Marketing position in Wichita that Pete would be perfect for. Pete: "Anything back here on Earth?" Heh. Duck tentatively says that he likes Pete, so he's going to be straight: If Pete can do a little better as far as his qualifications go, Duck can do a lot better for him. Pete mumbles that he doesn't know what else he can do, but Duck tells him that he's been Pete -- another two-halves alert -- "and I went on interviews and I realized I was filling the room with desperation." That's not the greatest smell to give off, although I suppose it's better than gin. He counsels Pete to pay more attention to his home life, adding that one day he looked in the mirror and realized he was in crisis "because I didn't understand the wellspring of my confidence." Pete: "Gin?" You guys, I made my joke without remembering this line. Am I Pete Campbell? Do we want the same things? Hard to believe, although I will concede I don't think I'd enjoy living in Cos Cob either. Duck clarifies that he's talking about his family, and when Pete tells him his own family is a constant distraction, Duck tells him to work on that. It sounds sage enough that we leave before Pete can be like, "Sure, let me just introduce you to my mother."
On a country road, Don pulls into a gas station and tries to get the young attendant's attention, but he's too busy leering at a woman leaning into her car -- who emerges, holding a map, and turns out to be Betty. Don calls to her and after she jumps a little, she looks at him pleasantly enough before wondering if he's also lost. Don approaches his ex-wife and sends the attendant to fill his tank before asking Betty where Henry is. She tells him he's coming the day and then the attendant returns with her directions, which, as she points out, are a bit lacking in actual road names. Don, however, tells her to follow him, and I'm pretty sure the gas-station attendant isn't the only one who's getting hot all of a sudden.
Ted, Pete and Peggy return from a pitch meeting, presumably, and Moira tells them that Fleischmann's called to request some more recent figures. After Pete tells them he'll handle it, Ted asks to speak to Peggy, so they go into his office, wherein he berates her for apparently having touched his hand during the presentation. Peggy tells him she didn't even notice doing it, but Ted is working up a head of steam now about how she then smiled at him. "I never should have kissed you!" It never ceases to amaze me, in an era known for its adultery, how so many people on this show can be so legendarily bad at it. At least Don's track record in that department is decent, if hardly perfect. Peggy pulls Ted away from the door -- good thinking -- before telling him that she assumed they were forgetting about that little incident. "I forgot it." I think she's trying to make the situation manageable even if the statement is untrue, but Ted tells her he hasn't forgotten it, and even uses the L-word in describing what a cliché the situation is. He wonders if the feeling is entirely one-sided, adding that that would help him get over it, but Peggy can't stick her lie and tells him that she thinks about it. Ted, however, says he's considered all the angles and they can't pursue their feelings. He sits down, and when she asks if he wants her to work elsewhere, he tells her no but steadfastly refuses to meet her eyes. I actually like these two together, but I'm also not going to object to one character on this show putting good judgment above all else.
At the camp restaurant, Bobby wheedles a grinning Betty into performing "Father Abraham" with him, and it's cute, but then Don enters the building and Bobby excitedly runs into his arms. Don asks Betty if he didn't tell Bobby he was there, but she smiles that she wanted it to be a surprise. Bobby then waves to a kid he explains to his parents is "Bobby Two," while he's "Bobby Five," and this bit of meta I can get behind. Betty asks if there's no Bobby One anymore because of Bobby Kennedy, but Bobby says no -- he just went home. Bobby Five, ladies and gentlemen! After Bobby offers to get the waitress so Don can have a drink (hilariously, Betty both wryly and regretfully replies "No" when Don asks if that's possible), Bobby and Betty then do the long version of the song for Don and soon, he's joining in. Surely no one is going to need dessert after this.
Pete comes in to see Joan and says he needs advice, and when he asks if she feels his attention to business has been "dilute," Joan reaches for her cigarettes in a "I'd better get comfortable" gesture. She gives him an appraising look and asks how personal the conversation is going to be, so he tells her he's being pulled in a million directions by his family, to which she crisply replies, "I can't solve those problems, Pete. I have those problems." Heh. He tells her that specifically, his mother has exhausted every nursing agency in the book, so now it's between his home and a home for her, neither of which is particularly appealing. She sincerely tells him she's sorry to hear it, but declines his offer to get dinner, saying she has plans. Before she leaves, though, he thanks her, but when she asks what for, he tells her he doesn't know. For being amazing in every way, Pete! Come on, now!
Arlene shows up to Megan's, bottle in hand, and marvels at the apartment as Megan tells her she shouldn't have walked from the West Side, not with the shootings in Central Park. I do wonder if a cast member is going to experience some significant street violence, with all the foreshadowing having gone on here this season. Then again, no one's fallen off the Draper balcony yet and that gun was introduced a lot more than two acts ago. Regardless of whatever may be in store in the future, Arlene dismisses Megan's concerns, so Megan suggests she get her script, but Arlene kiboshes that idea as well, saying that Megan's a good actress on her way to becoming a successful one and there's really nothing she can tell her about the script. She came over because she's worried about her, a sentiment that prompts Megan to wonder if that means she's going to get fired. By way of answering, Arlene tells Megan about her first job -- in radio, don't you know -- during which her agent told her that her voice was "childish," which made her question whether she was any good. Megan asks what the verdict was, and Arlene replies, "Honestly? I was wonderful." Megan giggles and trust me, that bottle Arlene brought is going to be open in a hot minute.
Unsurprisingly, Betty and Don are staying in the same set of cabins, and at twilight, he finds her sitting on the stoop. He tells her she should go inside what with all the mosquitoes, and when she reminds him that the things ignore her, he goes for some light flirtation: "In those shorts?" In his defense, her legs back up the question. She asks if he found anything to drink, and when he replies that he might have, she produces a glass and waves it invitingly in his direction. He pulls out a pocket bottle of something brown and pours her some, a smile on his face. He sits with her, and she sighs that she loved camp; he tells her he never went, but she demurs -- doesn't he remember the trip to Lake Champlain with her parents? He does, in fact, as after a typical-sounding fight with Gene, he and Betty "went in the woods and made Sally." Girl's got enough problems, so I hope she never gets wind of that origin story. On that subject, Betty says she doesn't understand Sally -- again, not the most revelatory of statements -- before adding that Henry thinks she's a lot like Don. Don bristles at Henry having an opinion about him at all, but softens as he expresses the thought that Sally's actually a lot like Betty. Betty then says that Bobby's a lot like her father -- "so bossy" -- and after Don sighs that all the teenagers in the world are in revolt, Betty wonders what she and Don were like at that age. Don doesn't really answer, but Betty goes on that when she first saw him earlier that day, she thought to herself, "'Who is that man?' And I forgot how mad I was at you."
I think this sequence is about the best thing this season has offered thus far, and one of the elements adding to it is the setting. Even with the requisite cricket noises, there's a stillness that's allowing these sentiments to emerge slowly. It would never happen in the realer world of New York or even Rye, with all the everyday chores and distractions of normal life. And Betty's statement is ambiguously worded, but even without what's coming, I think she means she let go of her anger at Don, at least in part, rather than that it all came rushing back. Betty then admits she got bitten after all, so he helps her up, and she's a bit unsteady doing it and laughs -- but gets serious when Don keeps hold of her hand. After a moment, she walks into her room, but leaves the door wide open and it's not long before Don follows. As she takes off her earrings, she casually tells him to close the door to keep out the bugs, and he complies... and then turns out the light. He approaches her and then grabs her behind the neck, not gently but not roughly either. She asks what he's doing, but there's no accusing tone, so his answer of "Waiting for you to tell me to stop" doesn't seem like an overplay. And indeed, after holding his gaze for a moment, she smiles and kisses him. They get to the bed, but she stops him for a moment to ask what he thought when he saw her, and he doesn't have to dig deep for this one: "That you are as beautiful as the day I met you." That being what she wanted to hear in every way, she gets back to it...
...while in other potential action, Megan and Arlene are some number of sheets to the wind, and although Megan thinks Arlene's lucky to have Mel, as he understands what she does, she counters that it's a "complex relationship," adding to our ever-growing episode list of non-Earth-shattering statements. Megan talks about how Don used to be so supportive, but Arlene tells her he's old-fashioned (you are what you drink, I guess) and he needs time to adjust to her success, but he will. Megan, however, isn't mollified, saying she thinks Don's gotten used to not having her around, and she feels really lonely. Given what Megan knows about Arlene's sexual desires, you can see how an at-least-half-in-the-bag Arlene would take this as an invitation, so she lays one on Megan. While Megan doesn't, like, spit or anything in response, she tells Arlene this isn't the way before accusing her of "taking advantage of every private moment." This leads to a little fight -- Megan's worried she's going to get fired for not swinging that way, while Arlene thinks Megan was throwing out enough signs and is now trying to embarrass her. Megan apologizes, and this leads to a couple more false starts, but Arlene finally takes the hint and moves to leave, saying Megan simply needs to learn the lines. "Two characters is tough, but you know what Olivier says -- let the wig do the work." HA! Never heard that one, but I sure like it. She tells Megan no hard feelings and seems to mean it, and when she's gone, Megan can only giggle at how the evening turned out. Of course, if she knew where Don was right now, it might have worked out to Arlene's benefit. You never know!
Afterward, Betty lights a cigarette in the darkness. With her turned toward the nightstand, he tells her he missed her. She faces him, whereupon he asks if she feels guilty, but she says no. "This happened a long time ago." Not sure if she means this is unfinished business or if the fact that she loved him first gives her a pass with her own conscience when it comes to Henry -- both could certainly be true -- but he asks if this is what it would have been like for them had they stayed together. It's probably not a question worth answering -- you'd have to go to the "If I were your wife, you'd be cheating on me" place -- so I'm with Betty when she tells him she doesn't think about that anymore; she's happy in her life. "Let's just enjoy this." He asks what she's thinking, so she tells him it's occurring to her how different he is Before and After. "I love the way you look at me when you're like this." She'd probably be gratified to know that he doesn't look at all his women with such affection afterwards, I don't think, but she goes on that his attentions decay, and she could only hold them so long. Don wonders why sex is the definition of being close to someone, and Betty obviously thinks she knows where he's going with this -- it's basically the adulterer's cry of "It didn't mean anything" -- as she tells him she doesn't know, but it is for her and for most people.
Don, however, takes it further than expected, saying that if she'd merely laid in his arms, he would have felt just as close, "but the rest of it, I don't know. It doesn't mean that much to me." The reason this admission is so important -- especially in the context of all the whorehouse flashbacks we've endured -- is not that sex means nothing to Don, but the revelation that intimacy does. It's the second time this season Don has credibly expressed that he feels things rather than, as it always seems, merely going through the motions. The show has a fine line to walk when it comes to this character, who is never going to be likable in a strict sense, but these check-ins with him are necessary to keep him interesting, and while they haven't come often enough for my taste to make up for all the bullshit of this season, I do appreciate this one regardless. It's not an uncommon pattern for a strong-seeming man to fuck his way through life in search of a closeness that's either nonexistent or too fleeting; it's another thing for him to admit it. But Don may not be aware of the side of the coin that truly keeps him from happiness that Betty brings up when the subject turns to Megan: "That poor girl. She doesn't know that loving you is the worst way to get to you." It's hard to completely tell in the poor light, but I think that one hurts; as if to make up for it, Betty not only kisses Don but takes his head in her hand for a moment. He gets back on top of her and with only mild sarcasm, she asks if he doesn't want just to hold her, but whether he's giving her what she wants or he's seeing physical intimacy with her in a different light, the answer is a hard no.
Hearing a noise in the bedroom, Peggy enters, broom in hand, to find Abe trying to fix the window as someone threw a rock through it. He tries to tell her it's no big deal, and for those of you who like playing the Continuity Police, there's a wardrobe error in the scene, as in some shots Abe's shirt is open and it's buttoned up in others. I don't know that I've ever noticed one of those on this show before, which is pretty solid. Anyway, Peggy finally conveys just how scared she is, so Abe deflates and tells her to put the place on the market, adding that maybe they're not cut out to be pioneers. He kisses her, so at least they'll be getting out of here intact, right?
In a neighborhood in which people do not throw rocks through windows, Roger is in bed when the phone rings; he answers and gets an earful from Margaret about taking a four-year-old to see Planet Of The Apes, as Ellery's been having nonstop nightmares. Roger offers twin answers that really compete well for most mature, those being "he wanted to see that" and "Don took his kid." Margaret makes a disparaging comment about Don's parenting abilities, and I'm not one to elbow people out of the way to defend Don Draper, but Bobby has to be at least ten now, so I don't think that one flies, Roger... not that it was working anyway. As if all this weren't enough, Roger literally tells Margaret that the situation is "not my fault," so she shoots back that he's right, it's her fault -- "for letting you talk me into having a four-year-old watch another four-year-old." Hee. Roger is not laughing, though, when Margaret summarily revokes his visitation rights unless Mona is present (and she also says something about how Roger can still "pretend to be a father," and I might be imagining things, but it's possible that makes a certain look she gave Joan earlier a lot more significant), and I suppose it's a good thing Roger hasn't gotten out of bed, because I can't imagine he'll want to bother at this point.
Speaking of, Don awakens to a bright morning and an empty bed. Then we cut to him entering the cafeteria looking really rather dashing -- sport coats suit him very well -- and catching sight of Betty sitting happily with Henry. Don approaches them, and after a greeting that's terse, but friendly enough -- especially given the THUNK with which their last meeting ended -- Don heads off to sit by himself. Betty does spare a quick glance his way, but by the time he's seated, she's back to laughing and chatting with her husband. Don, you're probably getting there, but just in case, if you want intimacy, maybe try looking in your apartment?
Joan is packing a bag and sighing that going to the beach is such a project, and Benson (haaaaay) asks if he can go get Kevin, but she tells him to let him sleep a bit more. Two things: Benson and Joan each have a cup of coffee in that signature cup Benson carries around, so it's nice that his "two cups of coffee" shtick travels. And two, he is wearing beach shorts that compete for the gayest cut I have ever seen, and I've had shares on Fire Island. Come to think of it, they might have been featured in a pool scene on Behind the Candelabra. Not that he isn't pulling them off. Joan conspiratorially says she'd love to get a summer rental, to which Benson asks if Pete doesn't have a beach house. Joan's kind of dismissive, saying she wouldn't ask Pete for anything, but when Benson asks if she doesn't like him, she admits that he's the only person at the company "who's never broken a promise to me." Benson tells her he thinks Pete is "a very generous person" -- all this Pete-praise is a bit overwhelming, I'll admit -- and that he seems to be having a rough time. Joan, surprisingly, makes a rookie gossip mistake in jumping to the conclusion that Pete told Benson about his mother, although it wouldn't shock me if she'd wanted to dish about it anyway. Benson is like, "I WISH he'd told me," and I hope this isn't going in the direction the shorts are pointing, because the thought of Pete Campbell being crushed on by the ever-more-adorable Benson isn't something I'm sure my brain can wrap itself around. It's far more likely to be a bit of business hero worship, but you do have to keep your eyes open with this show.
The doorbell rings, and Benson wonders if "she's back from the track already," and seriously, can we have a spin-off about Gail's dating adventures in the neighborhood? Unfortunately, we don't get to hear about how Gail hit a boxed exacta and treated a wonderfully virile former vet to an afternoon dinner at Peter Luger's, because it's actually Roger. Benson does a great job of only catching flies for a second before greeting him. Joan looks sharply at the door as Roger asks who he is, and after Benson gives his name and adds "from the office," Roger steps in, and Joan asks what he's doing there, keeping the hostility to a minimum for appearances' sake. Roger tries to make up a cock-and-bull story about shopping in the neighborhood and some office paperwork, but he can't help but be distracted by the situation and attire and eventually asks what they're up to. Joan sunnily says they're going to the beach, and Benson tries to reduce the awkwardness by saying he'll go get the car. Joan calls him back and says "Mr. Sterling" was just leaving. She adds that she's sure whatever it is can wait until Monday, and Roger regains a bit of his equanimity as he apologizes to Benson for being a bit "out of context." When he's gone, Benson -- a bit uncomfortably -- offers that he didn't know she and Roger were friends, but Joan merely makes a comment about some people never stopping working before going to freshen up. She gives nothing away, but of all people to whom to ascribe workaholism, Roger is a bit of a stretch.
Peggy's sleeping in the parlor -- it's further inside -- when threatening noises from outside awaken her. She picks up a makeshift spear -- a knife fastened to the end of a broom handle -- and moves toward the window to try to get a look. Suddenly, from behind, Abe asks what's going on... and she turns and sticks the knife straight into his gut. They both kind of flap their arms about it, metaphorically, especially in Abe's case -- and Abe tells her not to pull the thing out...
...so the knife part is still sticking out of his stomach when we cut to the two of them in an ambulance. Heh. Peggy assures him he's going to make it, but when she asks the male EMT with them to back her up, he just shrugs noncommittally. Gotta stick to SAG actors when you're looking for someone to support you verbally, hon. Abe then is like, this has nothing to do with the stabbing, but you're a scared person who's in advertising. "Your activities are offensive to my every waking moment. I'm sorry, but you'll always be the enemy." Peggy can't believe he's breaking up with her, whereas I can't believe it took this long, and he closes the burn by grimacing that she at least gave him a great ending to his article. He looks away, whereupon Peggy turns to the EMT again, whose face is like, "I'm sworn to heal, but if you want to pull the knife out, I'm sure I can't stop you from over here."
Megan's on the balcony when Don returns home. He kisses her and tells her he missed her, and he's obviously determined to try something here, but Megan somewhat despondently tells him she misses him all the time. "I don't know when I started pretending like everything was sunny." She goes on that she doesn't know where he's gone, emotionally, but she's still there. "And I keep trying to make things the way they used to be, but I don't know how." Her point is that something has to change, and as he takes her head in his hands, she looks terribly vulnerable and sad, but he tells her she's right -- he hasn't been there. He doesn't explicitly say he will be there, but if he can avoid using the elevator for a while, that will probably help matters.
On Monday, presumably, Roger comes in to see Joan and hands her a gift for Kevin -- Lincoln Logs, which I must say I adored as a child. Of course, I'd expect Roger to have good taste in toys. Joan tells him he can't just drop by and she does sound apologetic, but she sticks to her guns that it's too confusing for the boy -- he thinks his father is a war hero, and it's best for him to keep it that way. Roger asks if "Bob Bunsen" is going to be the one to watch TV with Kevin and says he just wants to be around, and Joan smiles that she knows. "But I can't count on that." Time to put your home life in order, Roger, rather than grasping for alternatives. If it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one learning that lesson. Joan does thank him for the gift, but Roger still trudges defeatedly out...
...while in another office, Benson closes the door and tells Pete that he knows this is delicate, and he debated coming to Pete with this, but he's heard Pete may be in need of a nurse for his mother. Pete defensively says that Joan had no right to reveal that, but Benson's undeterred as he pulls out a piece of paper and says that a "Manolo Colon," an Army-trained RN, treated Benson's father and he's only available now because he brought the dad back to full health. Pete hesitates for a moment before taking the paper and asking if he's "Spanish from Spain? Because otherwise Mother will refuse." Benson nods that Colon is "very well-bred" before standing and telling him not to blame Joan, as she was concerned and herself had no options to offer, "and is well aware that your well-being is also an interest of mine." Pete holds the paper up in a gesture of thanks, whereupon Benson withdraws. You guys, Pete Campbell has a friend! That's... never happened, right?
Peggy turns up, looking like hell, and basically ignores Moira in going in to see Ted. She hems and haws for a bit before telling him that "Abe got stabbed," which is like Jack Ruby saying that Lee Harvey Oswald "got shot." She assures Ted he's going to be fine, but their relationship is over, and Elisabeth Moss is doing a good job of acting like someone who's been through an emotional wringer and is running on little to no sleep. Ted tells her he's sorry to hear that, but then adds, "You'll find someone else. And whoever he is, he's lucky to have you." I guess this is karmic payback, given how the words obviously stab Peggy. She chokes out a thank you and then he's all rah-rah, brand new week! She looks like she wishes she at least had a broom in hand, but honestly, Peggy, this conversation could have waited for you to wash your hair and put on your face. Peggy then has to witness Don and Ted call to each other about how Fleischmann's is full steam ahead, and it's got this very "Looking good, Louis!" "Feeling good, Billy Ray!" vibe to it that I'm sure makes her want to vomit. She might as well; it wouldn't make her look much worse. Ted tells Peggy to round up the team and as "Always Something There To Remind Me" plays, she looks at Don and Ted go into their office and close their doors and then at the empty conference room before we cut to credits. Peggy, did you know Duck's a headhunter now? Use your history there!
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His new film, a documentary on online privacy and the sale of personal data called Terms And Conditions May Apply, will be in theaters in July. You can get news on it from the film's Twitter account. Also, you can email John at couchbaron@gmail.com, follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/couchbaron, or check out his blog, "Pull Up A Chair," which he'd just love for you to stop by.
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