Original subtitles

THE FLOWER OF MY SECRET

We did our best, but your son Juan is dead.

That cannot be, I saw him breathe.

You're wrong. Don't you ever make mistakes?

- Not this time. - I want to see him.

You will, but you'll be mistaken by his appearance.

When you see him, you'll see him breathe,

but it's not him, it's a machine.

Listen, if you can't do anything for him, I'll take him somewhere else.

I'll find the money. If there's hope..

There isn't any.

Brain death is difficult to understand.

We're giving oxygen to your son with a machine

and so he looks like he's breathing, but his brain is dead.

But my son Juan is strong, he's only 16.

If you say he's breathing, then he is breathing, isn't he?

It's the machine, as my colleague's just explained.

Sorry, but I doubt that.

Unfortunately, we have the proof.

Juan's last EEG was flat.

That means brain death.

I don't care if he's a bit retarded, I just care for him to be alive.

Madam, your son is dead.

Juan!

Dead.

- Should we call any relative of yours? - No.

I'm alone. My husband died of a heart attack two years ago.

There's only my mother-in-law left, and she's just a burden.

She had to give Juan her motorbike!

Damn motorbike!

I told him.

If you go on like that, something bad is going to happen to you!

These things happen every day.

Every day?

I don't lose a son "every day"!

Swear it!

What?

Swear that Juan is dead.

Nobody's ever asked us that before.

Don't judge her.

Yes, madam, we swear.

Your son Juan is dead.

"... harmless against approaching madness."

Every day, I wear something you bought for me.

Today, I put on the boots you bought me two years ago.

You had to help me take them off, remember? Because I couldn't by myself.

When I saw them this morning I thought of you

and wore them for you.

But they hurt.

Sometimes the memory of you, like these boots,

hurts me so much I cannot breathe.

I can't take them off.

Can you lend me 100 pesetas?

- I don't have it. - 500? I need it.

- I've no change, sorry. - Please.

If you help me take off these boots, I'll give you 5,000.

Deal! Shall we go to the stairs there?

- Where? - In front of the fountain.

Come here.

Sit there.

- This one? - Yes, that one first.

This way.

It's hard!

- Push a little, like that. - How can I push?

No, wait a minute, look.

Give me back my leg!

Here it is!

Be careful, the heel must go downwards.

And the tip goes upwards, see? Pulling that way.

It isn't moving.

Listen, please!

Never mind.

Stop it!

No, please, ouch!

Stop it, I'm getting all wet.

- I love the rain. - I don't.

I'll go ask for a friend's help.

No, here's the money. Take it.

Thanks and goodbye.

- It's storming, isn't it? - Yes. A coffee with brandy please.

- Sure. - I'll make a call.

Thanks.

National Organisation for Transplants.

This is Leo, Betty's friend. Could you put her through?

No, she went to a seminar.

- In Madrid or out of town? - In Madrid.

At the Hotel Escuela.

- As usual. - Yes.

She'll be back tonight.

- Can I take a message for her? - No, thanks.

Did your son care for the problems of society?

I don't know...

Well, he wanted to be a conscientious objector.

He hated violence, intolerance and war, like everyone.

- Then he cared for other people. - He did.

Did he ever speak about death?

About death? He was only 16!

We told you this,

because some people choose to donate their organs.

We would like to know if Juan...

A transplant?

This means there's still hope?

There is, but not for your son.

For other sick people.

Try to understand, his organs will save others' lives.

In his case, we can use everything,

because he was young and healthy, and so we'll save 5 lives.

But we need your authorisation for this.

Please, I'm very upset already...

Someone told me about it the other night,

but I can't allow you to mutilate my son.

He won't be mutilated, it's just an internal operation.

You won't notice anything.

- I want to see my child. - Think about it.

The 80% of the families we ask give their authorisation,

and they find comfort in that.

We know what we're talking about.

To whom are you giving his organs?

To anyone who needs them.

Even to an Arab, for example?

An Arab? We'll give them to anyone who needs them,

without distinction of race or social class.

I read that some very rich Arabs do business with everything!

Maybe in the Third World. In Spain, there's an overall plane...

- Plan. - Plane...

Overall Plan...

Overall Plan for the Donation of Organs.

We work in complete transparency.

But will they stay in Madrid at least?

We aren't allowed to tell you this.

I don't know...

Let me think about it, I'm too upset now.

- I want to see my son. - We cannot wait.

Unfortunately, there's not much time.

Take your time, instead.

And if we can help you in some way, let us know.

We are not here just to ask.

We were supposed to start from here.

It's never too late. Let's go.

Manuela, you were wonderful.

Thanks, but too many tears, maybe?

On the contrary, your acting improves with time.

I'm going to re-wind.

If you have comments, speak and I'll stop the tape.

You, Roberto, how did you feel?

Awful!

Above all, when Manuela didn't want to understand brain death.

Not me, I'm a nurse.

But not everyone knows what an EEG is.

Brain death is not easy to explain or understand.

At that point, people are very upset

and ready to hang on to anything.

You can't speak about donation,

unless they understood or accepted their dear ones' death.

Therefore, you have to be clear and delicate.

OVERALL PROGRAM FOR THE DONATION OF ORGANS

I admit that the matter of the Arab upset me. It made me mad.

Because you were judging Manuela's reaction.

Not mine, Betty, but Juan mother's. I'm not a racist.

Your denial was understandable.

And when I said "Plane" instead of "Plan", I wanted to run away.

- I thought I'd piss in my pants. - I understand that.

But you never have to judge people. This is fundamental.

Pain and fear justify every kind of reaction,

even the most exaggerated ones.

Leo, what are you doing here?

I had to see you. It won't take long.

- Problems? - No, it's raining.

- About time. - Wait for me at the bar, please.

See you, Leo.

- What's the matter? - Help me take off these boots.

- I can't. - But, Leo...

Don't look at me like that. I had no one else to ask.

Blanca, my maid, has the day off.

I called her but she wasn't at home.

Come on. You're all wet.

- What a day, Betty. - Sit down.

Come on, give me this foot.

- It's hard! - It is.

Paco bought them for me two years ago.

That night he had to help me take them off, cos I couldn't by myself.

The other one.

- I feel better. - Leo, you can't go on like this.

Like what?

Other boots?

- I can take these ones off. - You're too fragile.

What should I do, Betty?

Thanks.

Shall we have dinner together?

If you can, I'll be happy.

And don't worry about me, please. I don't feel so bad.

If I go on like this, I'll end up in Alcoholics Anonymous.

Did you go to see my friend Angel of "El Pais"?

Not yet.

- You don't care? - I do, but I'm ashamed.

Bullshit. Angel is charming, and a good friend of mine.

- Promise me you'll go tomorrow. - Alright.

- Did you tell him who I am? - No.

Tell him yourself, if you want.

Betty, maybe it's the alcohol, but everything looks so complicated.

Leo, you must go out, get motivated!

You can't stay there all the time waiting for Paco to call.

I wish I could, but I can't.

If you can't, we'll look for professional help.

I don't need it. I only need Paco.

Leo, you aren't the only woman who has problems with her husband.

This doesn't make me feel better.

Blanca, I had to tell you something, but I forgot what it is.

- Take your phosphor. - Oh, yes.

It doesn't help my memory, but it makes me horny.

Did you know that phosphor is an aphrodisiac?

It's a what?

Oh, I remembered.

If Mister calls, tell him to call again tonight.

If he asks you how I feel, lie to him and say I'm OK.

It's my son.

He came to help me carry the bottles.

Oh, I'm late.

Hi, mum.

- Did you tell her? - No.

- What are you waiting for? - I can't leave her, she needs me here.

Mum, this is an opportunity not to be missed.

Who knows when there'll be another one?

What opportunity? If I don't see the contract, I won't believe it.

You keep practising, I'll take care of the rest.

I'm worried.

I don't get how a producer could give you a million without guarantees.

Go and empty the trashcan.

"I don't want anything in change," he said?

Come on!

Tonio, why me? I haven't danced for ages.

My kidneys are bad.

Stop it, mum. You were the best!

I used to be. But that was a long time ago.

Thanks.

I prefer to be here at the newspaper.

Yes, it's like its heart and arteries.

If this doesn't work, "El Pais" doesn't work.

- Not only "El Pais". - Excuse me.

- Angel? - It's me.

- I'm Leo. - Leo who?

Leo Macias, Betty's friend.

Oh, yes. Betty talked to me about you. What can I do for you?

I know it may sound ambitious,

but I'd like to write about literature for your newspaper.

I told you it would sound ambitious.

A little ambition will help the insert. I want to refresh it a little.

- Have I read anything of yours? - No.

- Why, do I seem an illiterate? - No, but I haven't published anything.

Of course, I know I won't get the job just because I'm Betty's friend.

Therefore I brought something I wrote to give you an idea.

A novel...

and two essays.

Well, I don't want you to waste any more time. Thanks.

Not at all, let's go to my office.

- Where's the toilet? - Over there.

Is this novel, "The Cold Store", yours?

- Sure. - You didn't sign it.

I forgot.

- A coffee? - Yes, please.

How long have you been writing?

Since I was 10.

My family moved to Estremadura for economic reasons.

In the road where we lived, there were many illiterate people.

For three coins, I read and wrote our neighbours' letters.

I've never stopped reading and writing since then.

Terrific!

- Want some? - No, thanks.

Are you a specialist in any particular types of literature?

No, but I'd rather write about what I like,

and avoid Spanish literature, if I can. Moreover...

- Another request? - Yes.

I'd like to write under a pseudonym.

No problem.

But just to form an idea, which authors do you like?

Women above all.

Adventurous, suicidal...

crazy like Djuna Barnes, Jane Bowles, Dorothy Parker,

Jean Rhys, Flannery O'Connor, Virginia Woolf,

Edith Warton, Isak Dinesen, Janet Frame...

One of the essays, "Life and Sorrow", is about all of them.

That's why I could list them so fast.

I love female writers too.

Good.

What's your opinion on Amanda Gris?

How do you know it's a woman?

No one has ever seen her picture, no one knows who she is.

You're right, but her style is typical of a woman,

exactly as Barbara Cartland's is.

I see you don't like sentimental literature.

I do, but I don't think her works are about feelings.

There's no pain, no sorrow,

only courtesy and affected sensitiveness.

That's your opinion, not mine.

Would you tell me more about that in 5 pages?

I'm afraid I'm not the person you're looking for.

I hate Amanda Gris.

Even better.

For people like Amanda Gris, we usually publish an article for and another against.

You'll write the one against her.

I don't want to write against anyone.

My life is already full of negativity.

I don't want to add more to it and even be paid for that.

Goodbye.

I..

What a silly cow!

- Rosa, it's Leo. - Leo! Come in.

- What are those? - Clothes.

- Maybe they're not the best... - They are, and semi-new!

My child! My child is here!

- How are you, mum? - Not too well.

She's in a bad mood.

What bad weather! That's how Madrid is.

Bad weather? Bad nerves! She gets angry all the time.

Shut up, you louse-face!

Your sister believes I'm too nervous and I make up things.

Don't fight please, I don't care about the weather.

My legs are as heavy as lead.

You must walk, or you won't be able to move anymore.

I can't already!

- Don't you take her out? - She doesn't want to!

To be killed by a skinhead, or run over by a car?

I heard that skinheads are after me.

Of course! You call them pigs and hippies!

And they don't even carry weapons.

How can I tell skinheads from yuppies since I can't see well?

- Why don't you see the optician? - Here's the new Amanda Gris.

I can't read or crochet anymore.

But I can. This "Anthology" is wonderful.

Come, these chairs make my back hurt.

But your sister likes them because they're gilded. She's a real gipsy.

I loaf about all day.

- I can't see anything. - The optician said she could operate.

Your sister wants to lock me up in an operating room.

I hate them!

I'll say no till I die.

When I'm dead, you can do anything you want.

Don't say that, mum.

And don't worry, it won't take too long.

All that not to go to the optician's!

Leo, an operation is like a melon.

Before you split it, you don't know whether it's good or bad.

- You're right. - What a philosopher!

Well, the philosopher is going to the bathroom.

I'm constipated. No glycerine, no poop.

Clear the way, or you want me to jump?

- See how she is? - Awful!

She has no patience. If she doesn't evacuate,

she uses a glycerine suppository every day.

But I didn't offer you anything. What was I thinking of?

I even cooked.

- Want some coffee? I was making some. - Yes, please.

If you contradict her, she shows her teeth.

- She's getting aggressive. - It's because of her age.

- It's suffocating here for her. - She'll end up like her sister Petra.

And like granny. All insane. It's in mum's blood!

Here's some calamari.

No, I'll only have the coffee.

We'll end up like that too, we have the same blood.

Have you seen how she dresses? She looks like a tramp.

How about some pudding? It's light, you can't say no.

Okay.

- Here, take it. - It's too much.

Rosa, please...

Okay, but only till Santiago finds a job.

- How is he? - Not too well.

He lives from day to day and drinks more and more.

And with mum too, I'm in trap.

Rosa, I think I should take her with me.

- Don't even say that. - She's too much for you.

I'm used to her.

Is someone criticising me?

I don't listen. My head is still good. I wish my feet were as good.

Your hands are cold.

Mum, why don't you put on the dressing gown I bought for you?

It's too nice!

- But I bought it for you to wear. - Its place is in a drawer.

She'll be called a tramp. I'm ashamed of her.

Your sister is never satisfied!

She's as extravagant as my poor sister Petra!

- Just like her! - You look like her.

- And granny! - Who?

Enough with our genes.

I'll go back to my village. I can't bother you from there.

Who said you're bothering us?

After lunch, if I fall asleep, she wakes me up!

- Otherwise she doesn't sleep at night. - She wants me to move!

What am I supposed to do? Aerobics?

I wish I was dead. Then I wouldn't bother you anymore!

Where did you put them?

She's always hiding everything!

- What are you looking for? - Peppers.

They're right in front of you!

See, I was right..

I can't see.

Blind or not, she wants to go back to the village.

- And as soon as possible. - I hate Madrid!

Mum, you can't live by yourself at the village.

You need someone who takes care of you and the house.

Yes, and searches my wardrobes and eats my puddings.

Don't even think about it!

Take the peppers.

You know I have a cook.

- Who knows if she can cook, the gypsy. - That's racist!

Wonderfully. And she can iron too.

Paco says no one can iron his shirts like her.

By the way, at war,

no one takes care of him like at home, don't you think, Rosa?

- Want some more pudding? - No thanks.

- I'll put it in a tupperware. - Don't worry, Rosa.

You look awful.

I'll put the calamari in as well.

He went to war.

As if there aren't enough problems already.

Put the tortilla in as well.

I pray for him, so nothing bad happens to him.

Pray for me too.

Of course my child. For you, above all.

- But not for me. - You're an atheist.

So what? I don't prevent you from praying.

- Want a cookie? - No thanks.

As a matter of fact, I need some help with the taxes at the village.

Of course. Here you are.

And in a week it's the kid's birthday.

He doesn't need anything.

He needs a pair of jeans,

he's always wearing the same pair. He's a young man already.

And he's educated and serious.

Not like his sister, who doesn't even wash her panties.

Her granny's the same mental age!

The calamari!

Leocadia, she's such a weight to me.

In front of you is an anxious woman.

Djuna Barnes.

- Leo, this is Angel. - Angel who?

Angel of "El Pais".

Sorry, but I couldn't wait till tomorrow.

Your essays and novel enchanted me.

Really? You liked them?

Very much.

- You aren't making fun of me? - Me?

- Are you drunk? - Yes, and when I am, I never lie.

Find yourself a pseudonym, because we'll publish

"Life and Sorrow" on the next insert.

- Can I call you Leo? - Please do, Angel.

I love the title "Life and Sorrow".

It's a song by Bola de Nieve.

I know. "If what's left to me is only life and sorrow,

"my love, don't let me live."

Comparing the Cuban feeling to Djuna Barnes

is original and farsighted.

Yes, it struck me.

Do you have a publisher for the novel? Otherwise I could help you.

I haven't thought about publishing it.

No? Why did you write it then?

For pleasure. I love writing.

Good. Come and see me and we'll discuss work.

And forgive me about this morning.

I'm not evil, but I can be an idiot sometimes.

Alright. Have a good night.

Paco? It's me.

Leo? What time is it?

It's early.

Early? It's almost midnight.

I was sleeping. What's the matter?

I'm happy, and I wanted to share it with you.

This morning I went to "El Pais" and...

Leo, are you drunk?

No, why?

Because you sound too happy at this late hour.

It's not late in Madrid.

It's never late in Madrid. But I'm in Bruxelles.

True. I'll call you again tomorrow, to tell you all.

Are you OK?

Yes, my love.

Many kisses. See you tomorrow.

Hello?

I need to speak with Lieutenant Colonel Francisco Arco, please.

He's not here at the moment. Who wants him?

His wife, from Madrid.

Yes, tell him I called, and to call me back, please.

Nothing else?

No, only that I want him to call me.

Alright. Bye.

Fine. Bye.

Leo! Finally!

Look, already a second edition!

Excellent!

- It took you long to get here. - I was busy.

Last week I sent you a novel.

- Yes, I got it. - And?

It's not an Amanda Gris novel.

Why did you change?

- Maybe I've evolved. - Why?

Because I'm alive.

But why change when your books are bestsellers?

Honey, our collection's name is "True love",

and you send me the story of a mother

who finds out that her daughter killed her father

after he tried to rape her!

And to hide his body,

she puts him in the cold store of her neighbour, who's a restorer.

It's not easy to get rid of a body.

And her only concern is to save her daughter.

Wouldn't you do anything for your children?

We're not talking children here, but novels.

One sucks life out of us. The other helps us live a little.

People buy our books to forget about life's misery,

and to dream of a better world, even if it's a fake one.

- Coffee? - No thanks.

People living in hovels don't help anyone dream,

because they're like zombies.

Who wants to be like someone whose job is to clean sick people in a hospital?

Whose mother-in-law is a junkie and whose son is gay,

and who likes blacks?

Have you gone nuts?

Maybe, but that's reality, Alicia.

Reality?

We've already lots of "reality" at home.

Reality is good for TV and newspapers.

And look at the results!

Thanks to "reality", our country is about to explode.

- Reality should be forbidden. - Alicia, don't change the subject.

If your son's a junkie, it's nobody's fault.

That's none of your business!

Which reminds me, is it true that you gave him 5,000 pesetas the other day?

Me? I don't even know him.

He knows you, he saw you here.

It's bitter.

I guess he stole it from me. That's incredible.

He swore he met you in the street,

and you paid him to help you take off your boots.

He makes up so many stories. He'll drive me crazy.

Was that your son? He told you the truth.

Really? And the strange part is I believed him.

Let's get back to business.

When Alicia starts speaking about drugs, she never stops.

Of course.

Leo, we hired you to write love stories.

There's a love story in the novel.

Which one? I didn't find one.

The one of the restorer,

who can't forget his wife, even though they're divorced.

Who decides to hire a killer to assassinate his mother-in-law,

so he can see his wife at her funeral

and try to convince her to go back home with him?

Yes, that one.

You think the best way to get in touch with a woman is kill her mother?

I know it sounds absurd, but a real event inspired me.

It happened in Puerto Rico.

You're kidding me.

I'm not.

And I'm sorry if you didn't like the novel.

Wait a minute. There's a problem, Leo.

A big problem.

Your contract says you must send us five love stories a year

for the next three years.

To remind you:

"Stories of love and luxury in various scenarios.

"A suggestive atmosphere, no obscenities or winter sports.

"With a shining sun, in exclusive neighbourhoods.

"High officials, ministers, yuppies.

"No politics.

"No social awareness.

"As many illegitimate children as you want.

"And happy endings."

And the contract includes how many millions you were paid in advance.

And your conditions, that we can't use your real name,

that we can't reveal it, and we can't show any pictures of you.

And no interviews.

We accepted everything and respected the contract.

But you didn't, and that's the problem.

The problem is with colour.

Leo, be frank. Don't speak riddles to me.

I can no longer write love stories.

They come out noir. I try, but my pages are all noir.

Bullshit! You've written love stories for 20 years!

You can't forget how to do it so suddenly.

The whole world can change suddenly.

I'm leaving.

But, darling, would you like to try again,

before Tomás sues you for not fulfilling your contract?

Think of your villa, your independence, your trips to the Caribbean,

your collagen and beauty massages,

your poor family and your anonymity.

Goodbye, Alicia.

Don't play games, Leo!

Games?

I'm just trying to be clear and sincere, not forced by a contract.

Speak with your lawyer. He'll tell you what you're going to face.

You can't leave us just like that!

If Tomás sues you, the whole world will know you're Amanda Gris!

Have you thought about that?

This'll advertise the second edition of "Anthology".

A nice scandal indeed, if everyone knew who her husband was.

Sue her, Tomás!

The only thing I recognise in Amanda Gris

is the fact that she hides behind a pseudonym.

We don't know much about how she writes.

Does she use a pen or does she type?

Truman Capote used to distinguish between writers and typists.

We wonder if Amanda Gris is just a good typist.

Fiction is her field, but it's nothing to do with creativity.

When I say "fiction", I mean "lies".

It's so powerful.

- Who's that? - It's Leo. Let me in.

Leo, I'm leaving.

Why didn't you call?

I did, but the line was busy.

- You'll have to wait. - I can't. But I'll leave if you want.

Come in, then.

- Hi, Leo. - Hi, Betty.

I wouldn't disturb you if I didn't have a serious problem.

- I have a problem too. - We could swap.

Thanks a lot! I thought we were friends.

If we're friends, why don't you ask me what the matter is?

You didn't give me time!

I came here because you're the only person who knows about Amanda Gris.

But, yes, you look weird, Betty.

What happened? Come on, let's go. Tell me everything.

- I can't. - You can't?

No. Problems at work.

That makes two of us, then. Shall we have a drink?

The phone.

- What? - The phone's ringing. Can't you hear it?

Yes, but I'd rather go and get the drinks.

- Shall I get it? - No, don't worry, I'll get it.

Hello? Hey, what a surprise.

Yes, she's here. I'll put her through.

Leo, it's for you.

- Who's that? - Leo?

Paco! How did you know I was here?

I called home and you weren't there. So I thought you'd be at Betty's.

How intuitive!

You always say if I can't find you at home,

I must look for you all over town.

I like that.

How come you're at Betty's?

I have a problem, I'll tell you later.

But tell me, do you have any rocks for me?

Yes, of course.

There are many rocks here for you too, as many as the Grand Canyon.

But tell me what happened.

I broke up with "Fascination".

I won't go into details, they're too complicated,

and I suppose you have no time.

I don't. But you can tell me all in person in 3 days.

- What? - Yes, I got a 24 hours' leave.

- You did? - Yes.

You don't know how much I need to see you.

This time everything will be alright, I promise.

- It won't be like in Bruxelles. - I hope so.

But, Leo, don't cry, my love.

I'm emotional, just crying for joy.

There, I've stopped now. I can control myself, see?

I do. Say hi to Betty.

Paco says "hi".

- Hi from me too. - From her too.

- How is she? - She has some problems, poor thing.

- What kind of problems? - I don't know, she couldn't tell me.

- What's the matter? - I've had enough.

She's had enough. Problems at work.

- Really? - Yes. So it seems, at least.

Well, I have to go now. Many kisses, love.

From me too, honey. Many rocks.

It's strange for Paco to call here, isn't it?

I wasn't at home, and he knows you're my only friend.

- Is he coming? - Yes, in three days.

You'd better square things up with him this time.

Don't cry, don't scream, and listen to him.

Behave like an adult.

There'll be no fights, I swear.

And what's this thing about "rocks"?

You asked Paco if he had rocks for you.

It means "I love you".

We'd just got married, we were walking down a street,

and we saw an advertisement for the bathroom suite "Rock",

and the slogan read: "I want you, Rock."

Since then, when we're on the phone in front of someone

and we don't want them to understand, we say, "A rock," or "Many rocks,"

to mean we love each other.

- Madam? - Blanca, I'm here!

- I've found it. - Finally!

You took it to the dry cleaner's two weeks ago.

I completely forgot. I'm not well, Blanca.

I've been looking for my onyx earrings all morning.

They're on the chest of drawers.

Then get them, please, as I can't see them.

I don't like jewels to disappear from here.

- Neither do I. - No one gets in here but me.

Paco!

- Leo? This is Angel. - What a pain!

Could you come over? Let me know, please.

Where's the damn cordless?

I've just read in an interview that we're publishing in our next insert

that Bigas Luna is preparing a movie

based on a similar story to your "The Cold Store".

- Hello? Angel, I'm here. - What's the matter? You seem weird.

I've got the speaker on.

Do you know a scriptwriter called Juan Jose Bures?

No, sorry.

He wrote a script like your novel, and Bigas Luna will shoot a film of it.

Really? What a coincidence!

It's either coincidence or plagiarism.

I don't think so. Nobody read it but you.

But is it copyrighted?

- No. - What?

I never meant to have it published.

Honestly, Leo, I don't understand you.

- Sure you didn't plagiarize yourself? - Me?

I've nothing against plagiarism, unless I'm the plagiarized one, or you!

- Okay. I'm coming over. - You didn't answer my question..

I know. Well, I'm coming over.

Madam, I can't find the earrings.

Hi. 40, Miguel Yuste Road, please.

He published it!

"Is Amanda Gris just a typist?" by Paz Sufrategui.

"Amanda Gris, or the Alexandre Dumas of sentimental novels."

By Pachy Derm.

I wonder who Pachy Derm is.

- Welcome, Paz Sufrategui. - Shh! No one has to know.

Thanks for publishing my article. It made me happy.

As a matter of fact, who's the other one?

Pachy Derm? Before your eyes.

That cannot be.

Do you think I exaggerated? Is it too twisted?

To write is a serious thing, even for Amanda Gris.

But you don't like her very much.

Tomorrow there's a shouting contest in Colmenar de Oreja.

You must come, it'll be fun.

- You'll enjoy it a lot. - I can't.

Maybe you prefer a demonstration of medical students?

You could write an article about them.

Tomorrow I'll be very busy. My husband's coming home.

Oh, there's a husband.

I knew "there was a gulf between us", as Amanda Gris would say.

This reminds me of Billy Wilder's "The Apartment".

Me too.

In this film, Shirley MacLaine loves someone she thinks she's in love with,

and doesn't love the one she's in love with for real.

Unfortunately, I love someone I believe I'm in love with.

Blanca, how do I look?

- Very sexy, madam! - You think?

I'm not sure.

- Paco! - It's Antonio.

When Paco arrives, you can go, and don't come back before tomorrow afternoon.

Madam, tomorrow afternoon I'll be rehearsing with my son.

Then come back in two days.

I'd like to stay alone with my husband for a whole day.

Of course. And have a lot of sex!

Everyone's waiting for you.

Let them wait, I'm working.

Damn it! Who do you think you are?

This house comes before everything else!

Your son should!

What's happening? I heard a noise.

Madam, I need to ask you a favour.

- Don't listen to him. - Shut up, woman!

- Don't speak like that to your mother. - I'm sorry.

I'm already nervous enough. I need a drink.

- Want some, Antonio? - Yes, please.

- So, tell me. - Everyone is waiting for us.

There's an important manager who only came because of my mother.

Don't involve Madam in our problems. She already has her own.

What's the problem? You have to take her away?

Yes.

- What are you waiting for, Blanca? - But I...

She's scared because she hasn't danced for ages.

- But I must finish the paella. - I'll do it, Blanca.

- No, you're out of your mind. - Wow, she's harsh...

Come on, I only have to add rice to it.

Alright. If he's late, wrap it in tin foil. He likes it very hot.

- Go now, and good luck! - You too.

God bless you!

That's enough to drink.

Let me close the door.

I'd stay like this forever.

- Is Blanca in? - No. We're alone.

If you want to see her, stay till... Where are you going?

In the kitchen, I need to iron a few shirts.

I'll iron them.

Not so well as she does, though.

- There's not much time. - I agree.

Look what's here.

Paella!

I made it.

Well, Blanca did, but I added the rice.

It's cold.

I'm not.

- I'll heat it up in the microwave. - I don't like it heated.

I'm sorry.

I didn't know what time you'd arrive,

because you didn't bother to let me know.

I'm sorry, don't get mad. It's alright.

Then kiss me.

I'm going to shower. I've been in the same clothes all day.

But after that, we need to talk.

I have lots of news to tell you.

But I can wait.

Go shower first, as it's important.

Then we'll make love.

Then we'll have some rest.

And then we'll make love again.

And then we'll see.

Come here, I'll help you.

Okay? Like that.

Hey, take it easy!

Let's go to the bedroom.

You better do something, or I'll jump on the first man I see.

It's because of the phosphor.

- Which phosphor? - You don't remember?

I take it for my memory. I think it's an aphrodisiac.

If you don't come home soon next time, I'll start writing erotic novels.

Paco, what's wrong?

Nothing.

You're avoiding me.

I'm not. But I have something to tell you.

- What? - Calm down.

- I am calm. - No, you aren't.

So, what the hell's the matter?

Promise me you won't get mad first.

- Who gets mad? - You!

Don't yell and don't weep.

Who's yelling? Who's weeping?

Tell me!

I don't have a whole day's leave.

I have to be in Torrejón in two hours.

Then I'll take a plane to Split.

- Two hours? - Yes, I have to return earlier.

That cannot be!

- War started again. - That's what you say!

Leo, don't act like a baby.

I'm in the military. Do I have to explain my duties to you?

You're also my husband! Do I have to explain your duties towards me?

You promised to put aside our problems, at least till the war was over!

I'm very sorry, but I'm not made of stone!

You can't leave me to get mouldy in the freezer!

Why don't you try to understand the situation?

There's nothing to understand.

Your journey comes before everything else.

I'm trying to save the lives of many people!

Why don't you save my life?

Leo, I'm talking about innocents,

who have nothing to eat, who are killed for a crust of bread.

Who have no electricity, no medicine, no hope.

You're talking about me.

Your selfishness beats everything!

Can't you stop thinking about yourself for one moment?

No!

And you're a bastard,

because you use the misfortunes of the Bosnian people as an excuse!

You joined the peace corps

to escape from the war we had at home.

And the only victim of this war is me.

When you decided to join the NATO International Force,

you were pulling apart from me.

You could have stayed at the Ministry of Defence, if you'd wanted.

At least till we'd solved our own problems.

But you escaped from me.

Why don't you admit it?

Answer me!

I hate you.

If I only could keep hating you like this,

I'd find the courage to give up my life.

God, I don't believe in you, but help me.

- Are you already leaving? - Yes.

Paco, please, I'm speaking to you.

What?

- Aren't you even going to have lunch? - No.

Anything else?

Yes.

You still owe me 30 minutes of your two hours.

Paco, I'm begging you to give me at least 24 hours.

Anywhere, any way, but soon. Let me know.

I don't think I could bear you for 24 hours.

Don't you think we could speak in tranquillity, like two adults?

No.

Paco, before you leave, tell me what our situation is.

I don't know.

I must know if you care about saving our marriage.

Despite all, I do.

Should I consider the fact that you opened the door as a "no"?

Leo, don't torment me.

Can't you see I'm blocked and I cannot speak?

The great strategist!

You're supposed to be a conflict specialist.

Yes, but no war compares to you.

Paco! Sometimes I'm slow to understand things.

Answer me, once and for all.

Is there the slightest chance for us to save our relationship?

No.

Not one.

Leo, darling, are you there? Or are you busy?

There's no haste, but I have to talk to you.

I just need a minute. Call me please, OK?

Are you sure you aren't there?

Leo, my child, are you there?

I'll wait a while, hoping you'll pick up the phone.

Mum...

I had a fight with your sister. I'm going back to the village.

I wanted to say bye-bye.

I feel so down, my child.

I'm so nervous.

Call me.

And don't listen to what your sister Rosa says.

Are you there? I wish I could say bye-bye to you.

I can't see well, my child.

Yours, Mum.

Want me to zap it?

Yes, please.

From now on, Felipe is going to cure your fever!

Felipe will be pleased to cure your diseases!

I LOVE YOU, ROCK

What happened?

All the students here have the same thought!

We don't want dirty deals because we work so hard!

A dirty deal here, a dirty deal there!

Dirty deals everywhere!

Hello.

So, how are you?

Awful.

- What are we doing here? - This is my new apartment.

- I don't remember anything. - I do.

I remember everything, and I want to blackmail you.

Blackmail?

Look out of the window.

I think I was drunk and said too much.

You did, and you told me "the flower of your secret",

as Amanda Gris would say.

I'll pretend I'm not a journalist. But on one condition.

What?

Promise me you'll never do it again,

and share your secrets with me.

Deal?

Deal.

- Leo! - Betty? You scared me.

I scared you? That's incredible!

And you still do. What are you doing here?

I looked for you all night.

- Where were you? - Me?

I called everyone, the hospitals, the police...

Don't yell please. I have a headache.

- A beer to cheer us up? - No thanks, I want to stop drinking.

- Betty? - No thanks.

- You need a tranquilizer. - There aren't any.

I took them all last night.

I was right then. You swallowed a whole tube!

Half a tube, but I don't want to talk about it.

That's your problem, you never want to talk about anything!

Am I missing something?

Are you missing something?

Don't you wonder how I got in here? Who gave me the keys?

Paco did!

And the other day, when he called me, weren't you surprised?

Didn't he call me?

When will you face reality?

What does it take for you to face reality?

That you don't hide it from me.

How am I supposed to, when a simple pair of boots makes you fall down?

What are you doing?

Paco has tried to talk to you for years.

But when he tries, you start screaming like hell,

and Paco isn't so cruel.

Why didn't you tell me then? You're experienced.

Experienced? In what?

In bad news.

You even organize seminars.

- Well, I've just told you. - Fine.

Fine, you told me.

And now go, please.

I won't go away.

Because I broke up with Paco.

And I did it for you.

When he told me about your fight last night,

I told him off because he left you alone in that state.

He said that's your usual state.

But I know you, and I knew how you felt.

So I took his keys... and came here to stay with you.

When I saw the vomit and the empty tube, I feared the worst.

You don't know how bad I felt!

Does he know?

He called this morning from the airport, before taking the plane.

- Is he really going to Split? - Yes.

He should be there by now.

How long have you been lovers?

A little before he moved to Bruxelles.

He came to see me.

You were going through a crisis and he couldn't stand to see you suffer.

He didn't love you anymore, but he dared not tell you.

He came to me as I'm your friend and a psychologist.

But because I'm your friend, I couldn't accept him as a patient.

I gave him a colleague's number,

but I don't know if he ever called him.

He kept seeing me.

He found comfort in my friendship.

And one day, I don't know how,

we found ourselves in each other's arms.

The phone...

I can hear it.

Won't you get it?

You get it. It's for you.

Tell him I'm back and I understand.

But wait for me to go outside.

Leo, is that you?

- No, this isn't Leo. - This is her mother.

Put her through, please. I need to talk to her.

Of course.

It's your mother.

Yes, mum? I was about to call you.

My child, I feel so bad. If only your father could...

Shut up, you louse-face!

I'm going back to the village, to my house,

because even a beggar is the master in his own house!

Alright, mum, I'll come with you.

I'll come and take you as soon as possible.

You're coming too? What a joy!

Leo, nobody's sending her away!

Your husband did!

Santiago just said he doesn't have to ask for her permission

to drink in his own house!

- And she called him a drunkard! - That's what he is!

- You're brainless! - You are!

You wish I never said anything!

She treats me like a dog!

Rosa, mum, please don't raise your voices.

- She said don't raise your voice! - I'm coming.

Give me that!

She hung up.

She seemed strange. I'm a little worried.

And I'm worried about you. You'll make me die.

- Why don't you come with us? - How could I?

And how can I leave you here, with all the problems you have?

You'll drive me crazy.

Guess who you remind me of?

My sister Petra, her spitted image. May she rest in peace.

The same crazy look.

Tortilla?

Some ham, then?

No, I can't.

When you decided to lose weight,

you started looking dull. You made me say that.

Angel, don't ever start dieting.

Don't worry, madam, I like to eat.

You look great the way you are.

As a child, she was chubby.

When she was born, she weighed 11lbs.

She took me two days of labour.

She was all puffed up!

Thank God, my mother-in-law, who was a pearl,

said we had to take the baby to the yard.

"But it's freezing out there," I said. It's cold in the yard in winter.

Well, thanks to that pearl, the baby was taken outside,

then she reacted to the cold and was saved.

Do you remember, Leocadia?

How could I remember that, mum?

No, I meant do you remember the nursery rhyme I told you at the village?

"What a nice morning, Leo.

"The sun is shining, the flowers spread their scent,

"the trees make their noise.

"Singing from branch to branch, the birds fly so happily.

"Their song enchants me,

"and we can hear the bleating of the tender sheep,

"who look like snowflakes in the grass.

"Here is a hut, where some shepherds live.

"There is a white house, whiter than a lily.

"A bit farther there's a farm.

"Behind the farm, there's an orchard.

"Behind the orchard, there's a house. Behind the house, a church.

"Oaks stand on the hill.

"The valley is full of fruit-trees.

"There are high trees along the river.

"Don't you know what it is? It's my village."

I saw the car and thought, "That's Jacinta!"

How are you? What are you doing here?

- And Leo! - Yes, she came with me.

Here she is. Hey, what's wrong?

Nothing, she probably stumbled.

Don't worry, Jacinta, it's alright.

Open the door.

Don't worry, madam, it's nothing.

This way.

You didn't even touch your soup.

What's wrong, Leo?

I'm going insane, mum.

You aren't. Your sister is, not you.

I am instead, like auntie.

Like granny. Insane.

It's because of Paco, isn't it?

I knew it.

How awful, my child.

So young and already like a cow without her bell.

A cow without her bell?

Yes, lost, bewildered, messed up, like me.

Like you?

I'm a cow without her bell too.

But at my age, it's pretty normal.

That's why I want to live here.

When a woman loses her husband,

because he dies or he goes with another woman,

she must return to her hometown.

Go to church,

enjoy the fine weather with her neighbours, pray with them,

even if she's an atheist.

Otherwise she'll get lost, like a cow without her bell.

My child...

It wasn't easy for me to bring you up.

What are these?

Needles.

- And those? - Pins.

- Remember that proverb? - Which one?

The one which goes: "Jealousy is like a thousand needles,

"which prevent me from living.

"If you want to know about jealousy, you'd better ask me."

And me.

Tell me about aunt Valentina.

- She drowned herself in the pit. - She killed herself?

Yes. Somebody found her a few days later and called her children.

They pulled her out of there.

Unfortunately, I don't remember her.

She was wonderful, she told me so many secrets.

Yes, she was a good woman, but lonely.

Yes, she was great.

Why don't you sing me a song?

- A song? - Come on!

A song to cheer me up.

The one which goes: "I'm from Almagro..."

Please!

I'm from Almagro

I come from the rich village

Where everyone has plenty of money

And they eat grilled eggplants...

- Leocadia, the phone. - For me?

Yes, you're Leocadia, aren't you?

- Who is it? - I don't know.

- A man or a woman? - A woman.

Leo? Alicia here.

Alicia! Who gave you this number?

You did, for the invoice.

Oh yes, the invoice.

We love your two novels.

They're the best thing you've written since the Amanda Gris series started.

I'm glad to hear that.

And tell me, I read that someone is shooting a film

whose plot resembles The Cold Store's.

Yes, I read that too.

Isn't that strange?

I don't know.

And naughty Tomás was wondering

whether you sold it to someone else under a different name?

Me? When you rejected it, I locked it in a drawer.

- Maybe someone stole it? - No.

But, Alicia, are you sure that no one stole it from you?

- You're the only one with a copy. - Who'd steal a novel from me?

Your son, the junkie. He's always doing that kind of thing.

And it takes only an hour to photocopy.

But it isn't worth a cent. It isn't copyrighted.

- It isn't? - No, because it's crap.

But certain crap needs copyrighting!

Well, I'll ask my son.

Well, let's forget about it, okay?

The only thing which matters is that Amanda Gris is back.

Yes, that's important.

Leo, what a surprise!

Listen, did you give my number to "Fascination"?

Yes, why?

They received two novels by Amanda Gris,

but I didn't write them or send them.

- But you didn't tell them, did you? - Of course not.

Thank goodness!

Did you write them by any chance?

Yes. Don't tell me they noticed the difference and rejected them?

No, they loved them!

What a cheek, though! Why didn't you tell me?

I was afraid you wouldn't approve.

Forgive me, Leo, and be happy, you're free!

- When are you coming to Madrid? - Soon, unfortunately.

Paco is taking steps to divorce me.

Call me. "I'm burning with desire to see you."

Yes, I'll call you.

But I don't like it that you didn't tell me.

I'm dead on my feet.

I'm not surprised, considering your weight.

Thanks, Angel, but I don't want to take advantage.

I've served other writers before.

But no one has ever written for me before.

There's a first time for everything.

What about you?

I've always wanted to write love stories.

You're so frivolous!

- And how long will you go on with it? - At least till your contract is over.

And what do you want in exchange?

I haven't thought about that, but if you insist...

I do insist.

Well, as my agent, you'll get 20% of my income,

and the rest is for me. Feel better now?

Yes. Do you?

I feel as you want me to feel.

Madam, why didn't you tell me you were coming?

And why didn't you tell me you were such a great artist?

Now I feel like I took advantage of you.

- Madam, you helped us a lot. - Did I?

More than you know.

- Do you know each other? - Yes, we talk on the phone.

She keeps me posted.

- And when did you arrive? - I came here directly.

Really, Blanca, you were so, so, so...

Come on!

- Antonio! - Your son, oh, my god!

He's so, so, so...

Antonio, come here. Look who's here.

- What's wrong? - Nothing.

No, there's something.

In the dressing room, you were radiant.

And now, you're about to cry.

Am I so unpleasant?

No, but you reminded me of Paco. Three years ago, in Athens.

It's not like in Madrid, there aren't many bars there.

We were walking along the street,

and Paco saw a cardboard box and started kicking it like you did.

He looked like a child.

It's the only good memory I have of that trip.

From now on, football is officially forbidden!

Only dancing is allowed.

If a spinning top can dance,

I can dance too.

Angel... Did you hurt yourself?

- Every bone is broken. - Don't even say that.

Help me, come on!

Any better?

Do you remember "Casablanca"?

When Ingrid Bergman enters Rick's Bar for the first time?

They sit at the same table.

Bogart is stiff, petrified by emotion.

Ingrid asks him if he remembers the first time they met.

It was in Paris.

Bogart replies, impassive,

"I'll never forget that day."

It was the day when the German army occupied Paris.

"They wore grey uniforms, and you were in blue."

You were in blue as well when you were escaping from your life

and entered mine.

- I don't want to remember that day. - I'll never forget it.

Let's go, I'll take you home. You're drunk.

- Stay with me. - No, I have to go home.

- By yourself? - Yes.

You're so strong now. I preferred you when you were fragile.

I still am.

I didn't drag my bags home all by myself because I like it.

I'm not strong at all.

But I must learn to live without Paco.

Let's go and get a drink together. Alcohol will give you courage.

I must also learn to live without alcohol.

Without Paco and without alcohol.

And the sooner, the better.

I'm not going to answer it.

It's Antonio.

- Antonio? - Can I come in?

Antonio, what's the matter?

My mother insisted I bring you some food.

She shouldn't have bothered at this hour.

Did you know I've stopped drinking? But if you want some, I'll have a little.

Want a drink? Say yes.

There's no ice, though.

- Are you staying here tonight? - Yes, I want to try and sleep.

Alone?

Yes, why?

Would you like me to stay?

Antonio, don't tempt me. Finish drinking then leave.

I must tell you something.

What's it about?

- I stole something from you. - What?

A few jewels, nothing too important though.

- When I was out? - No, you were in the house.

I took advantage of your memory loss to take as much as I could.

Oh, I also took the draft of your novel, "The Cold Store",

and my colleague typed it and sold it to a producer.

The one who's shooting the film.

Yes, I read about that.

- So it was you. - But I'm not a thief.

Of course not.

I needed the money to put on the show.

The school of dance wasn't enough.

And did your mother steal from me too?

My mother? My mum's anti-thieving!

When she found out... You remember the day Don Paco arrived?

- Very well. - We had a fight that day.

- Yes, the day of the paella. - We had a fight because she found out.

She didn't want to dance anymore. My mother loves you very much.

I love her too.

Every day, she reminds me that we're in your debt.

And tonight, you came here to pay me back?

And how much sex would it take?

How much am I worth to you?

Please, madam, don't say that.

- I'll give you all the money back. - There's no need for that.

You used it for the wonderful show I saw tonight. That's a great thing.

You think so?

That's life.

It's cruel, paradoxical... unpredictable but fair!

If you say that...

Well, should I stay or should I leave?

Leave, before I lose my head and forget I'm a lady.

- And thanks, Antonio. - For what?

Because you gave me a reason in the darkest period of my life

and also made me forget about Paco.

I haven't thought about him for 15 minutes.

Can I come in?

Of course.

This reminds me of the end of "Rich and Famous".

Two writers, both women, are drinking alone,

away from the world, in front of a fireplace.

Okay, but you don't drink anymore,

and it's New Year's Eve in the film.

Pour me a drink and let me take care of the rest.

Kiss me.

If it's New Year's Day, I want to touch a human body.

And yours is the only body available.