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“Pretty Little Liars” recap 2.11: My, my, Maya St. Germain

Previously on Pretty Little Liars, Aria discovered that Mike has been on a season-long Blind Girl Craft Fair heist, Spencer’s dad got more and more insane every time he returned from Out of Town, Hanna tried to fix her parents’ relationship but broke her soon-to-be step-sister’s bucking bronco instead, and A redecorated her murder room with one thousand photos of Emily’s face.

Emily can’t sleep because of the psychological warfare A is unleashing on her at all hours of the day and night. When she’s not flashing back to getting poisoned by A or being felt up by A or – equally horrific – having dinner with Quin, she is replaying that Alpha-Bits fortune like some kind of Goebbels radio broadcast: “Weakest link, weakest link, weakest link.” Which, when you think about it, is the meanest swipe you could take at Emily’s psyche. Not just because she’s got that superstar athlete mentality, but also because the other Liars have each other and their own families, while Emily’s family is the Liars. If she cracks, she’ll be the one to break the hardest.

When the first sliver of sunlight finally peeks through the curtains, Ems bolts for a run. If she can’t master her circumstances, by God, she’ll master her body. Hanna wakes up to find that she fell asleep in, like, jeggings and a shawl, and also that Emily is missing. When Spencer and Aria come over to explain pajamas to her, and also to help her worry, they find a pictext on Emily’s phone of Aria and Fitz making out. A wants her to sell out Aria to Ella. Hanna’s like, “Are you sure that’s you snogging Fitz?” And Spencer goes, “Yeah, it looks an awful lot like that slut, Spencer Hastings.”

Somewhere in the middle of Rosewood Forest, where Toby’s therapy file is still floating down the river and the ghost of Paige is jangling chains and drowning passerby, Emily decides it’s time to come clean in therapy. Only, the Liars are a step ahead of her; they’re waiting for Emily in Annabeth Gish’s office, admiring the collection of diplomas and wiretaps and Tory Burch boots on her bookshelves.

Annabeth Gish’s clavicle stands around looking delicious while the Liars shout cryptic things back and forth. Spencer – who, remember, slapped Annabeth Gish out of her chair while shouting “THIS CONVERSATION IS PREMATURE” the last time they were together in this office – is finally the one to break the story: “Someone has been trying to kill us and/or get us to kill each other for a while now. Sometimes with cobra venom, sometimes with monster trucks, sometimes with cupcakes.”

Annabeth Gish goes, “So this has been going on for -” And Emily’s all, “For a season and a half, yeah. At first we thought it was Alison, because being the worst was kind of her thing, but then they found her body, and now we’re pretty sure it’s Alison in a TARDIS.” Annabeth Gish is all, “And you’ve seriously never mentioned this to anyone else?” Spencer’s like, “Um, no, because every time we came to your office, A texted to tell us she had our mothers chained up in her basement. Frankly, it’s a casualty I was prepared to sustain, but these guys aren’t quite as evolved as me when it comes to the art of war.”

The radio won’t turn off in Garrett’s Hot Wheel of an automobile, and the reason I know is because right now it’s screaming like whatever classic rock soundtrack, just parked outside Jason’s house with the engine off. Jenna’s sitting inside, eating cherries and queuing them up on the dashboard like your worst fruit-themed nightmare. Toby watches as Garrett hops inside and starts tongue wrasslin’ with his sister. He’s properly squicked out.

At school, the Liars eavesdrop on Jenna as she repeatedly shouts, “That’s not what we agreed on!” over and over into her blind-girl cell phone. They ask themselves, “Should we have told Annabeth Gish about that time we set Jenna’s head on fire?” And then they answer themselves, “Nah. And anyway, we saw her ordering some new eyeballs from Overstock.com the other day.” And speaking of gifts, Spencer plops down a bunch of horse books on the table. Hanna plans to re-gift them to her new step-sister to make up for that time she called her a whore in eleven different ways on the PA at Equestrian Camp.

Hanna’s Gran Apparates – no, just wait: she’s really magical – and nearly has a stroke when she notices that Hanna is eating a salad for lunch instead of guzzling down a gallon jug of corn syrup like the last time she saw her. She’s there to accompany Hanna to Tom’s wedding and rehearsal dinner, but first she needs to stop by the “little girls room” to “wipe the dew from her lily.”

It almost seems unfair sometimes that Hanna’s life is orbited by the most awesome people in the universe – Mona, Ashley and now Gran – while the other Liars are constantly surrounded by broccoli-chopping pedophiles, mail-bombing brothers, and vanishing girlfriends/parents. But then, on the other hand, it seems totally fair, because when Hanna just saw a photo of a foal standing on its hind legs she called it a “horse wheelie.” She really does deserve the best things in life.

Ella and Byron are shouting at each other about their son’s psychotic break because shouting at each other is what triggered their son’s psychotic break. Aria’s pops in the back door, all, “Um, hi?” And Byron’s like, “Whatever, Aria. Just because you have more experience than me at acting like an adult doesn’t mean you get to weigh in on your brother’s mental health. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve kept the English department inside all day, and I’m sure Jackie Molina has peed on the carpet by now.”

Hanna is on the phone with Caleb, all, “So you’ve got your own room and everything? Boy, I’ll bet that beats sleeping in an R2D2 sleeping bag with Lucas, or napping in the rafters in the gym.” Her dad interrupts the phone call to ask her to give a co-toast with Kate at the rehearsal dinner, which is so gross on so many levels I don’t even want to get started on it. Gran’s in the kitchen, rearranging every cabinet, waiting for Hanna to get off the phone so she can explain her Home Alone-caliber plan – zip-lines, blow torches, tarantulas, BB guns – to destroy her own son’s wedding to Hanna.

Ashley overhears Gran going over the destruction blueprints, and she just laughs about, “Regina, you know I love you, and by all means, please continue to put the mixing bowls in the cabinet with the kitty litter, but over the last few weeks, I’ve discovered that I am way, way, way too good for Tom.”

Gran rounds on Hanna: “Are you lying to yourself too?” Hanna’s like, “Usually. But maybe not about this.”

Back at the Montgomery’s, Aria checks on Mike who is perusing Jenna’s Etsy store and listening to Sad FM on his laptop. She’s like, “Maybe we could talk about why you’re spiraling toward an abyss.” And he’s like, “Or maybe you could shut your big fat mouth!” Ella walks in to break it up; there’s a scuffle over his laptop; and he maybe breaks her arm. I’ve been convinced this whole Mike thing was leading to an A-splsion, but now I just think it’s his own personal story about depression, and about how the world isn’t divided into Good People and Death Eaters. Ella’s like, “Aria, I know you’ve got as many secrets hidden in your brain as Alison had knick-knacks hidden under her floorboards, but let’s just add this one to the pile, shall we? Don’t tell your dad Mike accidentally assaulted me.”

At school the next day, Annabeth Gish gives a press conference about cyberbullying. It goes along with ABC Family’s “Delete Digital Drama” campaign, I think, but it’s kind of weird. On the one hand, I get it. You wouldn’t believe the s–t the internet says to me on a regular basis, and it’s nice to hear Annabeth Gish calling a troll a troll. But on the other hand, this feels way too PSA-y for comfort. It’s masked as a way to call out A, and all the usual suspects are on-hand, but it’s Mona, as usual, who saves the day, coloring in her Burn Book over there, not listening to a word Annabeth Gish is saying. Probably she’s even pasting Annabeth’s face in it as we speak. Just, “I’m a pusher, Cady. I’m a pusher.”

Outside, the crowd parts for Jenna like she’s Moses, but she stops in her tracks when she hears Aria’s voice. She goes, “Cool speech, right? Too bad your therapist wasn’t around to make your buddy Ali stop victimizing/blinding everyone within a hundred mile radius of Rosewood.” Emily. I don’t even know. But Emily goes, “Get your dumb handicap equipment out of my way, you ass!” and then storms off. Poor lamb. She needs some sleep/to get laid so badly. (Aria’s face in the background is as amazing as Emily’s rage.)

At the rehearsal dinner, Gran is like, “I just want to let y’all know that I am neither senile nor drunk. Now, let the insults fly! First up, Tommy dear, where’s that slut you call a fiance?” My new number one dream is for Mona Vanderwaal and Gran Marin to get their own ABC Family spin-off, where they live in this kind of Rosewood-y/Stars Hollow town and run a school for debutantes. Can you even imagine the possibilities? It’d be called Lily Dew.

Anyway, Kate’s like, “Let’s celebrate these used horse books by drinking vodka and vomiting on my mom’s wedding dress. You game?” Hanna is, in fact, game. Kate goes, “Our parents are so in love!” And Hanna goes, “My dad was boning my mom on the stairway of my house like yesterday afternoon, but OK. Hey, here’s a photo of my street urchin boyfriend. Cute, right?”

Annabeth Gish, meanwhile, is reveling in the success of her cyberbullying speech, until the phone rings and she finds herself being cyberbullied by A, who has recorded her most recent therapy session with the Liars and is now blasting, “Am I the first person you’ve told about this …?” on loop over the phone for about twenty minutes. You’ll be shocked to hear that the Rosewood PD is useless at stopping cyberbullies. Garrett conducts his investigation in 30 seconds, the results of which are: “Unless you tell me the names of your meddling liarpants clients or sleep with me, there’s nothing I can do for you. Also, how old are you? Older than 16? Yeah, that’s too old for me, so it’ll have to be that first thing.”

In the Marin’s kitchen, Ashley explains this very grown-up, very true gem to Emily: When a person leaves you, you always have to make up their side of the conversations you inevitably end up having in your head, and it’s OK, it works sometimes, but nothing is as satisfying as finally having that conversation for real, and realizing you won the breakup without even trying. Not that Emily needs any help winning a breakup; by sheer virtue of continuing to exist in her innate state of incandescence, she wins all the breakups. And life in general.

Emily decides maybe it’s time to stop having imaginary conversations with her ex-girlfriends in her head. I mean, she’s only been a lesbian for about three months, and already her ex-wrecks are 20 people deep. It’s gotta be getting crowded in her noggin (not to mention all the “clues” she’s storing up there), so she picks up the phone and calls – wait for it – Maya!

Spencer and Toby are inexplicably making out in Jason DiLaurentis’ front yard. Or, I don’t know, maybe not. Stakeouts are the kind of thing that probably really get Spencer going. Like, just start in with some leaps of logic in the dark and she’s golden. What actually is inexplicable is that Toby is wasting this opportunity by peering around Spencer’s head to look into Jason’s upstairs window. I love you, Boo Radley van Cullen, but that is unacceptable! You do realize that you are inching up on third base with SPENCER HASTINGS, do you not? Pay attention! Anyway, whatever, he lets it slip that maybe there’s some evidence in the vicinity, and Spencer is out of the truck like a firecracker thrown at a blind girl’s face.

Spencer’s best guesses for Jason’s late night caller are: Garrett, Jenna, Mike Montgomery, the zombie incarnations of either Ian or Alison, and juuuust maybe Aria. But no. It is her own father. She’s like, “Whoa. Even my cockamamie theories didn’t prepare me for that revelation.”

Mr. Hastings is like, “Spencer. Naked Toby. Good evening. Jason and I were just having a midnight homeowner’s association meeting to talk about the upcoming lawn competition.” Spencer just starts hollering to beat the band, you know how she does, and Toby gets up in there too, like when one hound dog sets off another hound dog. They howl their way back to Toby’s truck and drive away while Mr. Hastings beats on the door with his fists, all, “Stop barking! Stop barking, godd—it!”

Bianca Lawson is still drinking from the fountain of youth, I see. God, it’s good to see her face. Maya and Emily smile at each other until their cheeks burn from the fierceness of their affection and nostalgia. Seriously, Emily almost smiles her lips off her face when Maya picks up a potted plant and says, “Hi, Pam!” ’cause she knows Mrs. Fields is poisoning her dinner all the way from Texas. Maya explains that she’s living in a town about 45 minutes west of Rosewood. She had to find a new place after Jason chopped up her family and buried them in his pumpkin patch, I guess. 

This scene is so great. Maya’s like, “After that Jesus freak stunt I pulled at Juvie Camp, I thought I’d never see you again.” And Emily just explodes in this blaze of Gryffindor glory about how she’s not afraid anymore: Of being gay, of being out, of falling in love, of her parents, of zombies or werewolves or vampires or ghosts. Of Maya. She literally goes, “I’m ready to make real plans now!” I mean, she’s about ten seconds from hopping in that BEAUTIFUL TOYOTA and driving them to NYC to get gay married, when Maya reaches across the table and tells her to breathe for a second.

Maya tries to pull her hand back and Emily reaches for it with both of hers, holding them both in place in the middle of the table.

This is like, remember that height chart in Emily’s room? The one her mom was going to paint over before Toby saved it with his pocket knife? This is that exact thing. Like Emily standing with her back to the door frame, stretching up as high and as proud as she can, saying, “Look how tall I got when you were away! Can you even believe how much I’ve grown?” And I know I’ve said it a million times before, but that’s what makes Emily’s storyline so elegant. Nobody is whacking us in the face with a Pride hammer. There’s a gentleness here, a kind of quiet grace; the writers are peeling back Emily’s layers with a singular finesse. I know a lot of people want Emily to lock it down in an epic romance, but Christ on a bike, how rare is it to see a storyline like this where the lesbian character is learning to love herself first and best? Narrative exists far outside the confines of shipping; it stretches across time and space, if we’ll let it.

Oh, keep at it, PLL writers. Be real for us like this forever.

In the bathroom at the rehearsal dinner, Kate takes her mom’s wedding dress off the hanger and drapes it across Hanna’s drunken chest. She’s like, “I’m going to give our parents a toast all by myself. Feel free to puke on this dress in my absence.” And so Hanna does. Tom clomps up in there throwing every kind of emotional knife he can get his hands on: “You’re not as good as Kate, you’ve ruined my Special Day, also you’re a dunk.” Gran crashes in wielding her wand and Molly Weasly-ing about, “NOT MY GRANDDAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” She hexes Tom once, twice, three times, and then hugs Hanna, all, “Come on, Honey, let’s both go ralph on Isabelle.” Tom says they’re not welcome at the wedding, and Gran kicks him in the nut, all, “Boo f–king hoo, you god–mn cad.”

Kate hasn’t heard the news that there’s a wizard in the loo, so she comes in trying to take some more shots at Hanna. Gran’s like, “The hell you say, too, ya’ hussy. I just castrated my own son. Now turn out your pockets – ah ha! Roofies! Just as I suspcted!” She flushes Kate down the toilet with her drugs and wipes her hands the part of Isabelle’s dress that’s not already defiled.

Gran! Don’t leave us! Stay forever! You could crack this A case wide open!

Spencer’s dad is waiting for her at home, a fire full of clues roaring behind him. He’s like, “Here’s the deal: Alison’s grandmother lived in Hilton Head. Do you know about Hilton Head?” Spencer’s like, “Yeah, I may have heard it mentioned once or a million times before.”

OK, so Alison’s grandmother lived in Hilton Head, and the week before she was murdered, Alison visited and convinced her grandma to take Jason out of the will. Then Ali died and so did her grandma, and the DiLaurentis family was all, “Well, s–t, everyone’s going to think Jason murdered Ali to get back at her.” So Mr. Hastings committed estate fraud and forged some legal documents so it wouldn’t look like his grandma had cut him off.

This is so scary. He’s got to give Spencer something so she’ll park the damn Mystery Machine for the night, so he gives her this, which means it’s the least scary thing he can think of to tell her, which means there’s so, so, so much more buried underneath. Oh, how this show perpetually giveth the creepy!

Spencer flashes back to Gran – Gran, you stayed! – in Hanna’s kitchen, whipping up a batch of abortion brownies or something. Ali’s like, “Hey, Hanna’s gran, first of all, no thanks on the dessert, but also, if your son sold a family heirloom to buy drugs, would that piss you off enough to disown him?” Gran is like, “Hypothetically, yes, or I would just let Hanna barf on him.”

Back in the present, Spencer’s like, “Boom! Ali went to Georgia to get her grandma to write Jason out of her will, and when she came back, he smashed in her skull with the hockey stick I’d let her borrow, which he buried in our back yard and then my boyfriend dug up and then you burned. Another mystery Spencer-ed!”

Her dad’s like, “Well, I’m going to get even scarier now. Night.”

Mike finally reaches out for help at the Montgomery house after Aria comes clean that he’s a full-time cat burglar. It’s sweet. He’s going to be OK.

While all of these domestics have been going down, Annabeth Gish has been drinking latte after latte, chasing it with Red Bull and espresso beans – “The Spencer,” I think they call it at Starbucks – and rummaging around in her files trying to crack the A code. Which she finally does. And so she calls Emily, who …

… is still on her date with Maya, who is gobsmacked over The Tale of Paige, particularly the drowning and bangs parts. Before they can get started on Quin – and abuse her to my satisfaction – Annabeth Gish calls to say she knows who A is. Emily’s like, “Last time Hanna made that proclamation, she got hit by a car. Just tell me now.” Annabeth Gish is like, “Nah, it can wait. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Uh, you could get hit by a car, woman! Emily just told you that! Or you could get kidnapped! Or axe murdered! Or locked in a fun house! Or forced to watch your best friend’s porno being projected onto the side of a mausoleum! You could get stared at by Jason DiLaurentis! Your horse could break down in the middle of the woods! YOU COULD GET A MASSAGE.

The Liar-signal goes out into the night, and as soon as they reach Annabeth Gish’s office, a text rings through: “The doctor is out. -A”

Next week: The mid-season finale!

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