In bed
Can you hand me my purse?
- Here.
- Thanks.
Want one?
No. Thanks.
What was your last name again?
My last name?
Yes.
You know what I think?
You don't remember my name.
No.
Why do you think that?
People ask for your last name
to get your first name.
A gracious way to ask.
- To ask for the last name.
- Sure.
Or like when you ask
for someone's number
and you hand them a paper
so they'll write their name.
You're wrong there.
Let's see then.
What's my name?
Okay...
We just did it,
and you don't know who I am?
I know who you are.
It's your name I don't remember.
- Same thing.
- No, it's not.
Okay.
Then guess my name.
Constanza.
Fernanda.
Fernanda?
No, Fernandas are like...
Have you noticed
how names describe people?
A friend of mine...
...Ofelia.
She's beautiful...
...spiritual.
Another one.
Beatriz... Classical.
Strong women names.
Guess the name of the daughter
of my building's doorman.
- Tell me.
- You guess.
I'm never going to guess.
"Lady Di. "
Just like that:
"Lady Di Carrasco. "
- Guess the son's name.
- Tell me.
- Guess.
- Come on.
Arnold Sylvester.
- What?
- I swear.
Arnold Sylvester.
They doomed that skinny bastard.
I've got a book on names.
It tells how people will turn out
to be, according to their name.
What does it say about my name?
Claudio.
It says...
Hey.
Claudio is not my name.
Of course it is.
- You're Polo Bustamante's friend.
- No.
- Claudio.
- No.
I'm Polo Bustamante's cousin.
See? You don't know me,
and I don't know you.
Okay, what's your name?
My name is...
Come on, be serious.
- Jonathan.
- Be serious!
I'm serious.
My name is Jonathan.
Jonathan?
My name's Bruno.
- And you are...?
- Daniela.
- Hi.
- Hi.
No, shake strongly.
Don't you hate weak handshakes?
It gives me the creeps! I had
a teacher who shook hands like that.
Stop, it's gross! Don't!
I like a woman with a firm
strong handshake. Come on.
I don't want to.
Come on, do it.
Use all your strength.
Let go of me!
Stop.
Strange circumstances...
You asshole!
No, let go.
Okay, stop it!
We should remove the quilt.
Why so?
You know how many people
come to motels?
The number of germs
on this quilt?
I wish they were just germs.
- What do you mean?
- There are other things.
What else?
Hair, nails, skin.
Don't be disgusting!
At least the sheets are clean.
I once went through a phase
where I'd clean everything.
Everything repulsed me:
Door knobs, forks,
using a phone after somebody else.
I carried a cloth and alcohol.
I could only use my own bathroom.
- Still carry that cloth?
- No.
That was before. When my parents
were going through their divorce.
I pretended to keep everything
clean and neat.
In order to make amends, I guess.
About relationships?
That sort of thing?
As a compensation.
Your parents...
...why did they split up?
One day my Mom followed Dad
to some apartment.
There she talked to the doorman
and found out
that the man who had been
her husband for 32 years
had a double life.
Then you started cleaning?
Yeah.
I don't know.
I'm squeamish.
I hate germs.
In that case, you shouldn't kiss.
Do you realize that there's nothing
as germ-infested as a kiss?
Seriously. One ml of saliva
carries more germs than...
- Than what?
- I don't know.
- Eating poop is less gross.
- Yuck!
Anyway, this motel is decent.
Once I thought about putting up
a motel with a friend.
It's a very lucrative business.
I was wondering
if anyone died on this bed.
Maybe an old man,
from a heart attack.
Or lovers who killed each other
for love.
In such case,
there are lots of myths.
There's the condom under the bed.
Or the camera hidden
in the air-conditioner.
Would you look under the bed?
- Are you serious?
- Yes.
I'll die if there's a condom there.
- There's one, but it's been used.
- Don't touch it.
We don't know
what kind of people come here.
People holding illegal relations.
Or casual relations.
People like us.
The boss and his secretary.
Classmates
after a ten-year reunion.
Have you been here a lot?
A couple of times.
Two times, considering this one?
No. This is the third time.
Tell me about the other two.
No way!
Why would you want to know?
I want to know who you are.
By knowing my sexual behavior?
Have it your way.
The first time
I came here with a guy I liked.
I was at the beach,
and he called me from Santiago
to invite me to the movies.
I got in my car and returned here.
We went to the movies.
Have you ever been inspired?
When you say the right things?
When you seem to have a script
backing you, and you're in control?
Well, that was the way I felt.
I had a nice tan.
I felt comfortable.
I had liked him for years,
since we were in school.
And now there he was, in my car.
Then I fucked him.
He wasn't up to my expectations.
But then and there
I reached a mile-stone.
Did you ever see him again?
He's an obstetrician
and lives in the South.
He's got five kids,
so they tell me.
A world-class bore.
And your second time?
My second time in a motel
was with Rodrigo.
Your boyfriend?
We were fighting
when we got here.
We laid on the bed
without even touching each other.
We argued a lot.
I ended up crying.
Then he paid, and we left.
What was the argument about?
He lied to me.
He had an affair with a chick
that worked for his dad.
He told me that nothing
ever happened,
but he had her number
in his cell phone.
And she phoned him
in the middle of our fight.
He started with his nonsense.
He's a compulsive liar.
It's like a disease.
Did you break up with him?
No.
May I have the remote?
Just porn channels, I'm sure.
There was another time, too.
What?
How?
Tell me.
He was a hitchhiker.
It happened in Chilln.
How's that?
I had tried to break up with Rodrigo
something like 20 times.
And couldn't.
Well, one day,
after a huge fight, we broke up.
Seriously.
I did some thinking then.
I decided to use
all my vacation time,
changed my cell phone number.
I excluded him from every directory.
I had to get away from the city.
I told my grandma I was going
to the beach with a girlfriend,
but it was a lie.
I went South.
When my bus was near Chilln,
it stopped.
I went out for a smoke.
Then a guy approached me
and asked for a light.
I handed him my lighter.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
I put out my cigarette
and left with him.
Really?
We went to a motel.
There we kissed each other.
I'm sure he noticed
how nervous I was.
He asked me what was the matter.
And I told him about Rodrigo.
He did something
Rodrigo never would.
He put me to bed, fixed my covers,
touched my hair,
and told me a story
till I fell asleep.
He was a complete stranger.
Someone I had no ties with,
whatsoever.
And he treated me as if I were
the most important thing to him.
Can we turn down
the air-conditioner?
I'm cold.
Did you see that movie?
No.
I've got a theory about movies.
There's a common memory
implicit in the movies.
Just consider the number
of aesthetic approaches and films.
Imagine we could divide them
and pile them in sets.
As spectators,
we too belong in one of those sets.
That's the clue.
For instance, someone who watches
Hgh Fdelty and then Magnola.
Or who simply likes that aesthetic.
That person belongs to Set A.
And that's okay.
Or let me see another.
Someone who watches
TaxDrver.
Reservor Dogs.
State of Grace.
Fargo.
Et cetera.
That person also belongs in a set.
Set B.
Makes sense.
It's okay.
Imagine someone who watches
Almodvar's Atame and then...
...Dr. Doolttle or Before the Ran
and then Naked Gun...
...and then watches...
What could that be?
Something not related in any way.
That person belongs
to no set at all.
There's no aesthetic identity there.
There's something wrong
with that person.
Look, I used to date a girl
who had seen every action film.
Stallone, Schwarzenegger.
Fine!
But she belongs in a given set.
But one day she invited me
to a Godard film, Vvre sa Ve.
Suspicious, to say the least.
I knew then
that something was wrong.
Later, she told me
she was back with her ex.
Get it?
No.
Let's see.
If you were to make a movie,
what would it be about?
What would be the topic?
I don't know.
Come on. Play along.
A woman.
I don't know.
Make something up.
Anything.
A witch...
Go on.
...is being visited by a teenage boy.
He tells her that he has this dream
over and over.
Then she holds his hand.
She concentrates.
According to her cards...
I don't know.
There's a guy investigating
missing person's cases.
Finds the bodies of five
presumptively tortured children.
But when he studies the bodies,
he discovers they all have
these odd wounds.
After a while, he realizes
that they are autopsy marks.
And that those children
are over 200 years old.
Meaning that he's facing
a UFO situation.
A married couple splits.
It starts with him
taking a cab outside his house.
The driver sees him crying.
He's got nowhere to go.
He goes to a friend's house.
That night he sleeps
in a room full of toys.
Then, the next morning,
he goes to the office,
trying to go on with his life.
There's pictures of his wife
and kids on his desk.
He stores them away.
Motel.
A woman wakes up at a motel.
There's a dead woman by her side.
She remembers nothing.
No, wait.
A woman makes love
to her lesbian lover.
Then they quarrel because
one of them has a straight lover.
Then a man comes in.
The man kills one of them.
And the same man
goes and phones the police.
And?
And the police arrives,
surrounds them.
And...
The cartoons of the '80s
were the best by far.
Have you had one
of those typical conversations
about vintage cartoons?
Whether you liked Anthony,
or the other one in Candy.
And the Protoculture,
and Galactca.
And you look like Anthony.
And you look like...
Like whom?
Someone I met at a birthday party.
To whom I later offered a ride home.
And what happened next?
We went to another party.
A real bummer.
So I invited her to have a drink.
And?
And I was very nervous.
And?
And...
...I kissed her.
What did she do?
She asked me to take her
somewhere else.
Can I tell you something?
I knew we would end up like this.
- How?
- Like this.
In bed.
I knew it when I saw you.
I mean,
you always know deep inside.
I felt the same way.
Do you believe in chemistry?
So, what do we do?
I don't know.
What time is it?
OO a. m.
Too late to arrive.
Too early to leave.
Are you hungry?
I could call room service
if you want something.
Or we could ask for a movie
in the meantime.
What do you mean
by "in the meantime"?
In the meantime?
In the meantime, I recover.
You'll recover?
I'll help you recover.
Wait a second.
Wait a second.
One, one-thousand.
Leave it there!
Turn it up!
I realzed everythng can change
If there's love
I wsh I could go back
Perhaps thnk more about you
I ask you to understand
And gve me some tme to start agan
Wsh I could grow
Wsh I could sng
Wsh I could roll down and fall
And get on my feet agan
Wsh I could set my fears asde
So I could return to God
And then return to myself
Lost!
What do you want me to do for me?
Wounded!
Wounded by a bullet
Your love ways are kllng me
Lost!
What do you want me to do for me?
Wounded!
Wounded by a bullet
Your love ways are kllng me
Wounded
Wounded by love
Sometmes I feel sad
A Ittle tred
It's as f even our love
Was keepng us apart
The stages depress me
Lghts blnd me
Do you thnk t's easy for me?
That I can put asde my lonelness
When I don't know f I have you
I don't thnk so
I don't thnk so
Lost! Wounded!
Wounded by a bullet
Your love ways are kllng me
Wounded!
Wounded by love
Wounded!
Your love ways are kllng me
Wounded!
Lost!
What do you want me to do for me?
Wounded!
Wounded by a bullet
Your love ways are kllng me
Wounded!
Wounded by love
Okay, then.
And now?
I'm sorry, really.
I have to wait it out.
How much time does it take?
I don't know.
From 15 minutes up to an hour.
Men need 15 minutes
to know if they fucked up.
Women, instead,
they don't mind anymore.
A sexist invented that!
Everything's full of theories now.
Do you know
why people go shopping?
No.
Sexual problems.
Women, when not satisfied
by their partners.
Then a deficit of something
shows up there.
An energy deficit.
There's the lack of orgasm.
You see, when women fake
their orgasms,
they end up not being able to tell
fake from real.
Then those orgasms become real.
No, a real orgasm is different.
Do you fake your orgasms?
- Sure. Don't you?
- Nah.
I fake my comings.
Let me go on.
A woman who fakes orgasms
experiences an energy deficit.
So she needs to go shopping,
because buying is like a penetration.
You get yourself something.
It's sort of sexual.
Sales, for instance,
were made for frustrated women.
There's no compulsive buying
after good sex. Or have you seen it?
No.
Truth is, I never visit the malls.
I just remembered something.
You wait.
What's that?
Blood is supposed to go down,
so that later it will return upwards
with more strength.
- It's a gravity phenomenon.
- Does it work?
A friend of mine told me so.
He also said
that if you drink lots of water,
some glands become rigid and...
Hey.
I'm telling you men's secrets.
Men's secrets?
Who cares about them?
It's men who can't stand
not knowing what we women think.
They find it annoying when
we go to the bathroom in groups.
Sheer insecurity.
As if they were our only subject.
For me, the most interesting part
is that girls indulge in lesbian
relations during puberty.
A typical male fantasy.
You know why women
are more evolved than men?
Because of their intuitive thinking?
Because men masturbate manually,
and women digitally.
I had a lesbian teacher.
She used to touch us
when we were upside down.
I got only C's. We were
supposed to do it gracefully.
That wasn't fair.
Boys had to play ball,
while girls had to jump a bench
and stand upside down.
Everything was so Nazi,
so religious.
If I go into my kitchen
and run into a nun,
it would frighten me more
than a man with a knife.
- Shit.
- Are you okay?
No.
Where does it hurt? Here?
Yes.
- And does this hurt?
- Yes.
Have you ever had
a Reiki massage?
No.
To tell the truth...
...I don't believe in such things.
Everything is energy.
You should believe.
- You know how to do it?
- Yeah.
You're going to feel
an intense heat.
Do you have a job?
Not anymore.
Unemployed?
I'm going to Belgium
to get my doctorate.
- When?
- Soon.
Soon?
Next week.
Are you married?
No.
Do you have a girlfriend?
No.
Did you have one?
Yes.
But it wouldn't have worked.
There's the distance issue.
Mail coming and going,
web cameras... No.
So we talked it over and broke up.
- Just like that?
- Yes.
Just like that.
Perhaps she had
a different point of view.
And you...
How would you have seen it?
I guess it's better to have
a relation with someone
than to have nothing at all.
That's half a relation.
Half?
Because there's no sex?
Yep.
Half because there's no sex.
Casual sex is nothing.
Such as this?
Yes.
Such as this.
We better leave.
Yeah.
We better.
And your back?
Better already.
Francisca.
My name's Daniela, asshole!
I'm sorry.
That was a short circuit.
Yeah, a short circuit.
- Forgive me.
- Who's Francisca? Your ex?
It doesn't matter.
It does matter!
You brought her to our bed!
Come on, it's just a name.
And if I called you Matas?
Or Diego?
And if I told you,
"Come on, Diego, push faster"?
- It wouldn't matter?
- Okay.
Sorry.
Who is she?
- I really don't care.
- She was my ex.
- Ex?
- My ex-girlfriend.
It had a hole on it.
What?
Apparently it had a hole.
Who had a hole?
The condom.
It was sort of...
...slashed.
But when you took it off?
I don't know.
Maybe.
Or it was broken from the start.
I didn't notice it.
How come you didn't notice it?
- What size was the hole?
- That's not important. It had a hole.
I mean, I want to know
if a lot came through.
Well, yes.
They went through.
Many of them did.
You're taking care of yourself?
You're on the pill or something?
No.
Is this your fertility period?
Yes.
Moderately fertile or very fertile?
What size was the hole?
Where is it?
I don't know.
I flushed it.
- But we had to make sure.
- Of what?
It had a hole.
I'm sorry, I didn't measure it.
I never carry a ruler
every time I wash my dick.
Don't be rude!
I'm just trying to let you know
that a few thousand sperms
got through.
- That are inside me now.
- Of course they are.
We were making love.
Having sex.
Fucking.
That basically means
that parts of me go into you.
No one ever told you that?
How come you didn't notice?
Hold it.
Are you blaming me?
You are not going to get pregnant.
Even if we have the worst of luck
and you are at the peak
of your fertility,
we'll go to a drugstore and settle it
for good with a couple of pills.
Just like that?
No! I mean, yes.
Just like that.
Or you want to start
a moral discussion?
I don't want a moral discussion,
but everything means shit to you.
- Just like all the guys.
- Right.
Well, you want to discuss abortion?
The day-after pill? Extraterrestrials?
Telethons, perhaps?
I don't want to be with you.
Let's leave.
Yeah, let's.
You'd freak out
if I ended up pregnant.
The floor would shake
under your feet.
You'd stop fooling around
with your dick all over Santiago.
Did I have to bring you here
at gun point?
Right, you didn't want to come.
Well, 'cause I'm stupid,
the only reason.
Fucking a stranger.
How do I know you don't have AIDS
or any venereal disease?
How do I know you're not a psycho
after me forever?
I'm nervous, sorry.
Look, nothing will happen.
Maybe I broke it when I took it off.
And had the impression...
That's more likely.
Nothing will happen.
Let's go.
Let's go.
Have you seen my bra?
No.
Look under the bed, please.
Not there.
The truth is
that I'm a bra collector.
You moron.
I'm just trying not to end this
in a bad mood.
Here.
There you are.
Ever played "Step on the floor
end of the world"?
With my brother we used to play
that we had to step
on cushions, pillows, clothes,
'cause touching the floor
meant the end of the world.
Enough, stop.
Cheater!
Stop.
What are you doing tomorrow?
I'll sleep late.
Till noon at least.
And you?
I have to go to Via.
I must take my grandmother
to a funeral.
Who died?
My grandmother's
last surviving brother.
He had cancer.
Everyone's dying of cancer.
Nobody dies of old age anymore.
Do you believe in God?
No.
- Do you?
- Yes.
I mean, I don't believe
in the old man in a garment.
But I do believe in an energy
based on love.
What about wars?
What about missing children?
What about planes crashing?
Boy, God's got to be quite violent.
Maybe he's a child
who's just learning.
In some sort of rehearsal
and mistaking.
But he is there.
You can feel his order
in every small event.
In synchronies.
Look.
You saw me.
We both left at the same time.
My taxi got late. You were
in the hallway. That was just so.
If you had been in the kitchen.
If my taxi had been on time,
or further back.
If my sister hadn't borrowed
my car...
If I hadn't gone to the party...
Too many things
brought us here together.
Are you going to call me?
What do you think?
That you won't.
Hey.
Are you asleep?
- Are you asleep?
- No.
Did you hear that?
A friend of mine
went with a guy to a motel.
There they asked them
if they wanted a video or not.
They said they wanted a video.
Once in the room, they saw there
wasn't a TV set nor a video recorder.
As they left the next morning,
the room maid handed them a tape.
They had been taped.
Courtesy of the house.
If I had a motel,
it would have hidden cameras.
Wouldn't you pay to see
how real people fuck?
Wouldn't you pay to see
what really goes on
with two people
locked at a motel room?
No.
Hello?
Carla.
Where are you?
But are you okay?
Who's going to drive you?
You can't go on like this.
No.
No.
You guess.
Yes.
Okay, bye.
Yes. I'll tell you.
Right. Bye.
Who was that?
A friend of mine.
At this hour of night?
She's not well.
She has an affair
with a married psycho.
They went out on a date,
he got drunk and put on
his recurrent pathetic show,
and then he left.
She stayed there by herself crying.
It takes a real fool.
That man ruined her life
and will never leave his wife.
It's your friend's fault.
But she's in love.
Did she ask you
whom you were with?
She asked if I had left with you
and if I was still with you.
What did you tell her?
- That I did.
- What did she say?
She laughed.
She already knew.
- How come?
- Because I told her.
Told her what?
I told her,
"Look. See that guy
with a bird face in a green shirt?
I'm going to fuck him. "
You said that?
Yes.
Bird face?
Yes.
What about the synchrony,
God, the taxi that got late?
Just bullshit? You said,
"I'll fuck the bird face guy. "
Yes.
- And it was you who fucked me?
- Yes.
Sure. I never fucked you.
No.
I mean,
the world revolves around you.
- Yep.
- Huh, shit!
And if I told you I asked a friend,
"Man, who's the babe
with the big tits"?
- Big tits?
- Yeah.
"I'm going to fuck her. "
What would you say?
That you were a typical man.
Did you see my scar?
My appendicitis operation.
I was on a high school trip
to Bariloche.
I started feeling terrible,
but nobody cared.
They took me to the hospital.
It's sort of heavy at a hospital
when it's not your country.
I made friends
with an Argentine girl my age.
She had had an abortion.
They had removed her womb.
While my classmates
were dancing and having fun,
I was talking with that girl
about her rapist father.
See the scar here?
A car crash, with my dad.
The brakes got broken.
It was an old car.
Once dad knew
that the car wouldn't stop,
he protected me with his arm and
crashed the car against the sidewalk.
We hit a pillar.
But he saved me.
I never felt that he loved me.
But then I knew.
I always thought
that he loved my brother best.
Why so?
I don't know.
Maybe because he had
all his attention.
And you visit your old man often?
No.
Is he like you?
I guess so.
He's cute then.
He doesn't have a bird face.
You are cute.
You don't have a bird face.
My old man
has this heart condition.
Something's blocked over there.
He'll die any minute.
I'm always saying,
"This weekend I'll visit him. "
But somehow I never go.
It's unavoidable.
All I hope for is that
when the moment comes,
he will go swiftly, at once.
With no pain, no agony,
no intensive care unit.
Dad dreads hospitals.
It's telephone time.
Hello.
Yeah. No.
No, I'm not alone.
With some friends.
Yes.
Okay, tomorrow at lunch time.
Try to sleep.
Yes, you can. Try to.
No, you don't know them.
From the masters.
Yeah, okay. Bye.
Want one?
Thanks.
Don't you want to know
who that was?
No.
Okay, who was it?
That was my ex.
In a panic rush.
She doesn't want me to leave.
That's why she called?
She wanted to know
whom I was with.
And whom were you with?
Friends.
She's got problems.
Sure, she calls you at 5:OO a. m.
She's got an obsession
with calories.
Every time she eats something
she counts calories.
She even thinks we ended
because she was fat.
Did she throw up in the shower?
What?
Did you catch her vomiting?
No.
Why?
You do that?
I had bulimia once.
At least I think so.
About three years ago.
- What did you do?
- Vomit.
Vomit.
You eat something,
then you throw up.
My boyfriend used to take me
to fast food places.
Hamburgers, pizza and such.
And I threw up later.
I must have puked
in every bathroom of every mall.
And every bathroom
in every friend's house.
I was an expert at vomiting.
The best way is in the shower.
She doesn't vomit,
but counts calories compulsively.
- And she's fat?
- Yes. No. I don't know.
- That's not the point.
- What's the point?
That I can't stop feeling
responsible for her situation.
But you're not.
Sounds hard,
but she's not your problem anymore.
She is.
So are you.
Everyone that's related to us
is our problem.
I mean, if you call me tomorrow
asking for help,
I would have to give it to you.
Wouldn't you do the same?
That could drive you crazy.
We relate with lots of people
every day.
You can't take responsibility
for everything.
You have to know when to cut ties.
I'm also a calorie expert.
Do you know
what's the most caloric snack?
An ice cream.
A Swiss Chocolate ice cream.
That's 550 calories.
You know how many calories
a banana has?
No.
You know how many calories
are burnt when you make love?
- No.
- 550 calories.
You mean, then,
you eat an ice cream...
And fuck right after.
How many ice creams
did you have today?
Four.
We better do something about that.
- Otherwise you'll get fat.
- Yep.
You'll have to give me your e-mail.
...inviting you
to the wedding ceremony
of Daniela and Rodrigo
on Friday the 23rd.
- I haven't lost yet.
- What?
I haven't stepped on the floor.
The world hasn't come to an end.
So you don't have a boyfriend.
No.
Why are we doing this?
What?
Talking.
As if we wanted to know each other.
As if there was a future.
And if I told you I like you a lot
and asked you to come with me?
You'd never say that.
And if I did?
Don't do this.
It's not funny.
Are you happy, Daniela?
I really don't want to go into that.
- I want to know.
- What for?
Just to know.
To know what?
To know who you are.
And what would we get?
You're leaving.
I'm staying.
What would you get by knowing
my grandmother's name
or if I never felt lonely,
or if someone gave me a watch?
What for?
We are not knowing each other.
We're not dating.
We're not going anywhere.
I can't tell you the story of my life
in an hour.
We came here.
I don't know why, but we did.
We had a good time.
Now we'll leave.
You were a break
before the rest of my life.
And I was the adventure
before your trip.
We are nothing to each other.
We were nothing.
And we'll never be more.
So stop asking if I'm happy.
That's really none of your business.
I don't want to know
anything else about you.
When I was seven,
my brother got lost.
I don't want to know.
He got lost in a supermarket.
My Mom went frantic
looking for him.
A lot of people gathered by.
I saw an increasing number
of people searching.
He was never found.
For years I woke up believing
he'd be outside the house.
That he would be back.
I'll tell you something
that nobody knows.
While I was surrounded
by chaos,
in that crowd of people
searching everywhere,
I saw him.
He was outside.
On the street.
Alone.
And I froze.
I knew I had to say,
"There he is!
He's outside! Over there!"
For everything
to come back to normal.
For God to exist.
So Mom would smile again.
So the episode would turn
into a supermarket anecdote,
instead of a threshold to darkness.
But I didn't.
I remained silent.
I closed my eyes.
And never said a word to anyone.
It's okay.
Why do you tell me this?
Because I won't
ever see you again.
I'm getting married.
This Friday.
Tomorrow's my bachelorette party.
Don't drink too much.
Want to know
the presents that I got?
The most useless:
A machine to make ravioli.
The most useful...
Luchita, the maid of the house,
gave me a set of kitchen cloths.
She embroidered them herself.
She's been by my side
since I was born.
Why are you getting married?
He loves me.
I love him.
We have plans.
And the bad side?
He's got a bad temper.
How bad?
Very bad.
What? Does he...?
A couple of times.
Within five years.
What happened?
The first time, he broke my rib.
We broke up.
After that, he started treatment.
I thought that everything was fine,
under control.
And the second time?
The second time was an accident.
What accident?
He was nervous,
and I fell down a stairway.
I got an injury, that's all.
I know, it sounds much worse
than what it really was.
But I don't see myself
as a beaten woman or something.
It's just that...
...I sometimes fear.
Where's he now?
Traveling.
Business trip.
He'll be back on Tuesday.