That vehemence startles Ned, too. At first he flinches, finally looks up at Ginsberg, but the emphasis doesn't seem to quite be anger, and it doesn't seem to be directed at him so much as at the idea he'd leave, which Ned had thought was so obvious. Because yes, fine, when Ginsberg draws the metaphor out like that, he's not a magazine or newsletter, and the suggestion that he might be is absurd.
But in his experience, his (comparatively minor) imperfections have been the excuse people use to leave him behind. Not just once, not just his father, but time and time again: Eugene, too, and the various men and women whose interest in him had waned slowly or vanished abruptly. He's gotten to think that's normal, that's how everyone treats one another. Gotten used to being a cancelled subscription
Which is why he looks at Ginsberg with naked surprise and confusion on his face. Ginsberg's not just saying it for the sake of saying it; he seems to really mean it. It's his turn to be the speechless one, trying to reconcile the fact that Ginsberg found out this horrible secret and isn't interested in leaving. He doesn't know how to react; he isn't even happy, yet. Just shocked.
"Oh." His eyes go to where Ginsberg's hand is, resolutely on his shoulder, and back to his face. "I thought..." He doesn't know how to phrase it, so he lets the sentence trail off unfinished. Instead, he explains, "The only other time someone saw it was only a pile of dead leaves and he ran away in terror. Literally ran. And after that, we never... so I thought..." Ned trails off once more, gives a very tiny shrug of his shoulders.
no subject
But in his experience, his (comparatively minor) imperfections have been the excuse people use to leave him behind. Not just once, not just his father, but time and time again: Eugene, too, and the various men and women whose interest in him had waned slowly or vanished abruptly. He's gotten to think that's normal, that's how everyone treats one another. Gotten used to being a cancelled subscription
Which is why he looks at Ginsberg with naked surprise and confusion on his face. Ginsberg's not just saying it for the sake of saying it; he seems to really mean it. It's his turn to be the speechless one, trying to reconcile the fact that Ginsberg found out this horrible secret and isn't interested in leaving. He doesn't know how to react; he isn't even happy, yet. Just shocked.
"Oh." His eyes go to where Ginsberg's hand is, resolutely on his shoulder, and back to his face. "I thought..." He doesn't know how to phrase it, so he lets the sentence trail off unfinished. Instead, he explains, "The only other time someone saw it was only a pile of dead leaves and he ran away in terror. Literally ran. And after that, we never... so I thought..." Ned trails off once more, gives a very tiny shrug of his shoulders.