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- Hi. How are you?
- I'm good. Thanks.

Who do I make this out to?

Uh, Bobbi with an "I".

In the prologue,
you say you wrote this book

in order to better understand
and accept death.

Um...

Yeah. It feels unnatural to me.

I can't accept that something
alive has to die.

Thank you.

- Ingrid...
- Mm.

We've fulfilled the hour.

I mean, in fact, we've gone over.

Well, there's still a lot of people waiting.

Yes. We'll do what you want.

Could you sign mine?

Stella! I didn't see you.

Why didn't you come straight up?

I was embarrassed.

You draw a crowd!

- A lot of young people.
- Thank you.

Not just women.

Stella, this is Anne.
Anne, my friend Stella.

- Nice to meet you.
- Nice to meet you.

I'm gonna stay until
I've signed for everybody.

Yes. I'll just make sure that
no one else joins the line.

Okay.

Oh, I haven't seen you in forever.

I'm living in Boston now.

I came to see my son,

and to visit Martha in the hospital.

You know she has cancer, right?

It's a bad one.

Martha?

Martha Hunt?

Yes.

She's at Manhattan Memorial
Cancer Center.

I thought you would've heard.

No. To be honest,
I haven't seen her in years.

Martha is sick? I can't imagine it.

If you go see her,
it'll make her very happy.

Yeah. Of course.

Of course I will.

Um, thank you so much for coming.
I really appreciate it.

Congratulations.

- Thank you.
- Mm!

- I'll see you soon.
- Thanks.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Hi.

- Who do I make this out to?
- Frances.

- Is that you?
- No, it's my girlfriend.

She really admires you.

- So do I.
- Thank you.

Could you write "It won't happen again"?

Of course I can.

Yes. Thank you. It won't happen again.

I hope not.

Hi. I'm here to see Martha Hunt.

I think she's on the 16th floor.

Okay. One sec.

Yes. Room 1614.

The elevator is at the end
of the hall, on the left.

- Thanks.
- No problem.

Martha?

Ingrid!

What a surprise!

- How did you hear?
- I ran into Stella.

- She told me.
- Oh.

I'm so sorry, I didn't
even know you were sick.

Oh, well, you with your work
and me with mine.

I mean, time's gotten away from us.

Yes, and I was living in Paris.

Yeah, I heard.
I've been reading about you.

I know you have published another book

and it's doing very well.

Thank you.

So...

How are you?

I'm sure you're sick of telling everybody.

Well, it's cervical cancer. Stage three.

It isn't operable,
but they're treating me, so

looks like I'm not gonna die quite yet.

Um, I've become a guinea pig
for an experimental treatment

and the results are better
than the doctors expected.

- Great!
- Yeah.

That's great! Well, you seem
like you're in good spirits.

Well, I swing between
euphoria and depression.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

No, it's normal,
and the doctors warned me, you know.

- Highs and lows.
- Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm.

It will sound absurd,

but after all the accepting
and preparing to face the end,

survival feels almost disappointing.

Oh, don't say that.

No, I was prepared to leave.

In fact, when they gave me
the initial diagnosis,

I didn't want any treatment.

Well, I'm glad you changed your mind.

'Cause, you know, just the thought...

And that I wouldn't know...

Anyway, I realized that I really...

I'm not ready to abandon
the party just yet.

But I had truly gotten used to the idea.

Well, I suppose that it's good
to get used to the idea,

but without giving up, right?

You've been through
a lot of wars, remember?

I live with them every day.

Oh, Ingrid, I'm so happy to see you.

I almost called you a thousand times.

- I'm sorry.
- Me, too!

It's ridiculous that
we haven't seen each other.

I promise I'm gonna visit
until you get sick of me.

Will you?

You promise?

I'm gonna hold you to that.

Your daughter knows, I guess.

Yes.

When I first made up my mind
to forgo any treatment,

I told her,

and she just said...

"It's your choice."

Period.

As if it was something trivial,

something that had
nothing to do with her.

How are you two getting along?

Um, same as ever.

We're barely in touch.

What does she do?

She's doing well.

She is, uh, an agent
for classical musicians.

It might sound horrible,

but I don't feel like she's my daughter.

I fantasize frequently about
her being swapped at birth.

What?

What are you talking about?
She looks just like you.

She has your face.

I never interested her as a mother.

Why not?

I was a teenager when I had her.

I didn't know what to do with a baby.

And when we started working at
Paper Magazine, you remember?

We practically lived at night.

You remember New York in the '80s?

Yeah.

Anything important happened at night.

And then I went to work
as a war correspondent,

traveling constantly.

And that didn't help.

My work just completely took over.

I was never what a mother
is supposed to be.

But Michelle started to hate me

long before I was away so much.

I remember feeling her resentment
even when she was a little girl.

She made herself very clear.

She couldn't bear... not having a father.

She saw other girls with their fathers
and she wanted to know about hers.

At first, I told her
I didn't know who he was, but...

It kind of made things worse.

I was lying to her.

Of course I knew
who her father was.

His name was Fred.

We dated for a few months
before he was drafted.

And then went away to fight,
towards the end of Vietnam.

When he came back,
a year later, he was

somebody different.

Fred! What happened?

He was a broken toy.

Hey. Hey, it's okay.

I'm here. It's all over now, Fred.
You're back home.

But it's not over for me.

I still got the war inside my head.

I can't get free of it.

I hallucinate every single day.

And I was high practically all the time.

I don't know what I'm doing with my life,

but I'm not staying here.

It's all right.

Feel free to do what you like.

Think about what's best for you.

Okay.

Thanks.

Can I kiss you?

- Does Michelle know this?
- Oh.

She started asking about her father
as soon as she could talk.

But it's not something
you can explain to a child, right?

By puberty, she carved out
quite an abyss between us.

It came to define her adolescence.

But, by then, I was no longer there.

I was in New York, with you,
living my life.

I arranged to meet Fred one evening
to tell him about the situation.

So, I took a first aid course

and, because I'm a war veteran,
they've hired me at a hospital,

down in San Diego.

It's good news, right?

I have some news for you too.

I'm pregnant.

- You're pregnant?
- Yes.

But I was planning on moving
to San Diego next week.

Then what are we gonna do?

Whatever I do, my parents
will support me, so...

I'm not alone.

Mm.

I don't think working in a hospital

was the best thing
for such a damaged person.

It's the closest thing to war.

He needed therapy and rehab.

Yeah, that would have been
more sensible,

but he wanted to be useful,

to ease his conscience.

He believed that helping people
between life and death

was his best chance
of getting back any peace.

I could only free him of any responsibility.

He left before Michelle was born.

He never knew her.

He didn't call once to ask about her.

When did you tell her?

She was about 12.

She wanted to know
where he was living,

and I didn't know anymore.

She was so insistent

that I tracked down an old friend of his
from high school,

who told me that Fred
had gotten married

and had recently died.

I asked him for his wife's number,

and then I called her.

I wanted to know what had happened.

She told me they were
coming home after a trip.

Is that smoke?

Yes.

Something's on fire.

There's a house on fire.

We should call the fire department.

- Stop the car.
- Fred...

What are you doing?

- I'm gonna take a look.
- No!

That's crazy! Fred!

- There might be someone inside.
- Fred, stop! Stop!

Don't go in. It's dangerous!
Look at me, I'm here.

Let's find a gas station
and call the fire department, please.

Don't you hear the screams?

No, I don't hear anything.

Fred, please! Fred! Fred!

Fred, don't go in there!

Don't you hear the screams?

There's someone inside crying for help!

Fred!

Sir! Sir!

Please, help me!

- Sir! Sir, please!
- Let's go!

- Please, my husband's inside!
- Ladder up!

Sir! My husband's inside!

My husband's inside!

He thought he heard
voices crying for help.

Put two lines on the back side, guys!

He went into the house trying to save
whoever was trapped by the fire.

Okay, get back in your car.
Do not go over there.

I will stay here. Okay.

Please, ma'am. Is there someone else?

- No, I don't know!
- Ladder up, guys! Ladder!

There's a civilian inside!

Get back in your car, ma'am, please.

All right, get in there!
Get in that top window.

There you go. It's gonna blow out.

Good boys.

I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do.

He didn't get to the second floor.

He must have passed out
from the smoke and the flames.

And the other bodies?

There was nobody else.

This house has been abandoned
for a long time.

There was only your husband.

But he

he told me he heard screams for help...

Impossible, ma'am.

There was no one else.

It's true.

I didn't hear the screams either.

I tried to stop him from going in, but...

I didn't.

He was very brave.

Did you tell Michelle all of this?

I had to give her every detail.

I even gave her her father's
wife's phone number.

You know what?

Let's get you back to bed. You're tired.

Yeah, but I have to tell you this.

We can... We can talk more later.

So, one day...

- I got a call from Fred's wife.
- Okay.

And she told me

- that she wanted an address.
- Mm-hm.

She wanted to send me something.

Mm-hm.

And, shortly after,

I received a note in the mail and a letter

that the wife received from Michelle,

introducing herself

and saying that it was her,

Fred's daughter,

who had been in the burning house.

"It was me he tried to save."

"It was me for whom he died..."

That's what Michelle said to the wife.

That's insane!

Yes.

Hi!

It's Martha, the nuisance.

You're not a nuisance.

How're you feeling?

Fine. I'm at home.

The hospital's given me a few days off
between treatments, so I'm at home.

I'd love for you to come over.

Ooh, you've caught me
in the middle of moving.

Oh, then you're really busy, right?

Um, well, you know what moving's like.

But, um, if you're feeling lonely,
I could stop by,

we could take a walk in the park.

I might not be quite up for a walk.

Um, okay, you know what? Let me, um...

Let me finish what I'm doing
and I'll be right over.

Thanks, sweetheart,
but don't feel obliged.

- These are for you.
- You are a darling.

- And I've brought you a couple of books.
- Oh! Thank you.

You want something to drink?

Oh. I'd love some tea.

- Herbal tea if you have it.
- Sure.

- I'll put these in a vase.
- Okay.

And all of this is for you.

You have to finish all of it.

Wow! Well, I will do my best.

I love fruit.

Are you working on something new?

Um, yeah, actually I am.

I'm doing research
on the painter Dora Carrington

and her, um... Mm

intense relationship with
the writer Lytton Strachey.

- Mm-hm.
- Here he is.

Uh, Strachey was gay,

so she married the straight man
that he was infatuated with.

It's gonna be the story of the trio.

It isn't groundbreaking,
but I want to see where it takes me.

Here, um, look.

Um, unfortunately for her,

there was another
more famous painter...

- Leonora Carrington. Yeah.
- Yes,

the surrealist Leonora Carrington,

whose name was obviously
very similar to hers.

Um...

Dora

was better known for this

bizarre love story with Strachey.

She devoted 17 years of her life to him.

- Wow.
- Mm.

It'll be a fictionalized biography, so...

I'll make some stuff up, too.

I've never been able to allow myself that.

Mm. Well, I hope not.

You're a war reporter.

Yeah, you have to...

You know, you can't show your emotions.

You have to block them out
so you can do your job

and stay in the present
in the middle of whatever hell.

Maybe I should write about you
and not Carrington.

I don't think you'd enjoy
writing about illnesses and treatments.

- Mm. You're wrong.
- I'm just a journalist,

addicted to wars and adrenaline.

You think that's nothing?

It wasn't all tragedy.

You know, life went on.

There was one report
when I added a bit of fiction.

- Really?
- Actually, I never published it.

It was during the war in Iraq.

On the last day, before we left Baghdad.

Are you sure this is the right way?

Yeah, just make a left here in this alley.

Let's make this brief.

Here. Stop here.

Martin, what are you doing
here in Baghdad?

You look great. You really do.

Thank you.

Yeah, I'm sorry. Paco, Martin.

He's a Carmelite, like me.

Pleasure. Let me introduce you
to Martha.

She is a brilliant journalist
from The New York Times.

They are the Carmelites
I was telling you about.

It's a pleasure to meet you both.

Are you intending to stay in Baghdad?

Yes, here we are.

But you're alone.

All the NGOs and the Red Cross
have left already.

I know.

The situation is out of control.
It's very dangerous.

You're here as well.

Yeah, but we're just passing through.

We're leaving as soon as
we finish talking to you.

We can't let them down now,

this is when the people need us most.

That's true, but it's still
extremely dangerous.

But then you know that.

We can't let them down now, señora.

Do you mind if we take a photo of you

and how the mission has been left?

Okay.

You can photograph the mission and me,

but he doesn't want to risk
his family in Spain seeing him.

- They'd worry.
- Yeah, of course.

Totally understand, but if we could
get one of you, that would be great.

- Okay.
- Sure.

- Here?
- Yeah.

Just perhaps a little tiny step closer...

Yeah, that's fine,
so that I can see the impacts.

I think you have it.

How long has it been

since we last saw each other?

Five years.

Five years.

Wow.

Do you remember Liberia?

How could I forget?

Look, I have some photos of you
that we didn't publish.

If you give me an address,
I can send them to you.

Maybe to the Embassy.

No, you keep them.

That way I'll keep you company.

Okay.

It was really great seeing you.

Take care.

- Goodbye.
- Be safe.

How do you know the Carmelite?

We met in Sierra Leone.

We became lovers there.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah.

After that, we met more times.

Always in places that were at war.

And you had sex?

Well, of course, yeah.

Bernardo never renounced
physical pleasure.

He was always in
the most conflictive places.

And I think that sex was his best shield.

I'm pretty sure
the Carmelite is his partner.

You think so?

Definitely.

That is the only way
you can stay in Baghdad

and not be afraid of the war.

- What a wonderful story.
- Yup.

Don't you dare write it.

No, no, no, of course not.

But how about sin for him?

I mean, don't they feel guilty?

After all, they are Catholic.

Yeah, I don't know.
He never talked about that.

With all the horrors you see in war,

feeling guilty about having sex
doesn't really carry much weight,

you simply get used to it.

I know that.

I wrote their story,

their love story, as I imagined it,

but it stayed in my computer.

So, you're gonna write about
Dora Carrington's insane love.

Mm-hm.
And her connection to Virginia Woolf,

who Strachey also pursued romantically.

What a group!

I so admire their freedom.

Strachey died of stomach cancer

18 years after meeting Dora

and Dora survived him
by barely two months

before she shot herself in the stomach.

She was only 38.

I'm struck by the symmetry
of that kind of gesture,

his stomach cancer

and her shooting herself in the stomach.

I know, it struck me, too.

I wonder what Virginia Woolf
thought of Carrington's death?

Maybe Virginia saw

a kind of warning,

a mirror that reflected her?

As if they were fated?

Do you think I'm fated, too?

No! Of course not.

I've never known anyone
more alive than you.

This week I'm starting
a new experimental

- immunotherapy treatment.
- Uh-huh.

They've already tried it

and it seems to work well
with cases of cervical cancer.

- Well, that's great news!
- Yeah.

Let me know
when I can come and visit you,

- okay?
- I will.

- Talking of symmetry...
- Mm-hmm?

Do you remember...

Damian Cunningham?

How can I forget?

I inherited him from you.

The shared lover.

- Well, I...
- I have to say

I felt terrible when you got together

after I'd been with him.

Okay, we didn't share him exactly
because you'd already broken up

and you were out of the country.

I would never go back with him

and, to tell the truth, I was never faithful.

But he was a passionate
and enthusiastic lover

and I hope he was for you, too.

I had no complaints.

Hi.

What is it?

It hasn't worked.

I've got metastases in my liver

- and in my bones.
- Oh, Martha.

I should have followed my first instinct.

Should never have put myself
through this torture.

This diarrhea, vomiting, fatigue

to end up like this.

I should never have given in
to false hopes.

Okay. Okay.

All right, what does the doctor say?

Tell me.

Oh, that I could live for months,

maybe a year.

He wants me to continue
with the treatment,

even though it looks hopeless.

Maybe it will work this time.

I don't wanna wallow in self-pity.

But I'm not a stoic. I'm sorry.

I don't wanna go through
excruciating pain.

You can't be self-possessed
if you're in agony.

You can't think straight.

You can only think of one thing

the fucking cancer.

I've always taken care of my health,

now I regret it.

The doctor says I have a strong heart.

What does that mean?

My body is just gonna go on fighting

while I suffer and suffer
until my last breath?

I don't know.

I don't know how to help you.

I'm so sorry.

I think I deserve a good death.

At least one without convulsions
in my last moments.

Going out with a little bit of dignity,

clean and dry.

But I know I'm asking too much...

What are you doing up, Martha?

I'm fucking over this.

- Can you help her, please?
- Of course.

Let's get you back in bed.

Come on. Let me help you.

Bring it on.

Here we go.

I'll end up turning into a junkie.

I am one already, I guess.

It's okay. Really.

Here, this will help.

Are you still here?

Yes.

Should I ask them to bring your dinner?

Are you hungry?

No.

Ingrid...

Do you think I need to say goodbye

to my closest friends?

I think you should do
whatever you wanna do.

I just want peace and quiet.

Have you thought about
how you wanna spend your time?

And where?

Is there some place you'd like to go?

Look.

Pink snowflakes.

There had to be something good
about climate change.

Well...

I've lived to see that.

You remember the end
of Joyce's The Dead?

Vaguely.

"The snow was falling,"

falling on the lonely churchyard,

falling faintly through the universe.

And faintly falling,

like the descent of their last end,

"on all the living and the dead."

It's getting late and, uh...

I should be going.

Thank you.

I'll see you tomorrow.

There's still a half an hour
before the movie starts.

Should we go in and get
our seats before the rush?

No. I wanna talk to you about something.

Okay.

I will not go out in mortifying anguish.

I've gotten hold of a euthanasia pill.

Don't ask me how,

on the dark web
you can find almost anything.

I also have an abundance of opioids
for the moments of pain.

And don't look at me like that,

I'm not asking you
to convince me otherwise.

I don't know what to say.

I'm hoping you'll say yes.

Yes to what?

To my asking you to help me.

Help you what?

I've faced death several times,
but I've always been accompanied.

We reporters formed
a kind of mobile family.

This is another war,

I'm not afraid of it.

But

like the other times I faced death...

I don't wanna be alone, Ingrid.

I'm asking you

to be in the next room.

I think we should go get our seats.

Yeah, sure,
but I prefer to go on talking to you,

if you don't mind.

Okay. Um...

Do you know when you wanna do this?

Not exactly.

Within a month?

Before I start to deteriorate
and you don't recognize me.

These next weeks
I should be reasonably well,

but I wanna do it soon.

My doctors think that I'm gonna return
to complete the treatment.

It's best they don't suspect anything.

Where do you wanna do it?

I don't wanna be at home.

And I don't wanna go back
to anywhere I've been happy.

It's always a mistake to return
to some place you've been truly happy.

You just ruin the good memories
of the first time.

No, I understand that.

I think it will be easier
for me to let myself go

if I'm not surrounded by familiar things,

intimate things.

I think that would hold me back.

I prefer some unknown place,

comfortable and safe,

and not too far away.

Do you need my help finding a place

or getting you settled in?

No, no, no.

No, I can take care of that part.

What I need is somebody
to be there with me,

in the room next door.

Wouldn't you prefer
someone you're closer to?

We're very close.

No, yes, of course, of course we are.

Oh, my God,
we're very close. I just...

There were years where
we didn't see each other.

What about Stella?

Or Maggie?

Or Vanessa?

You've all been friends
since you were kids.

I admit I thought of them first.

I asked all three of them.

They all were horrified
and they all said no.

They understood it,

but they said they could never be a part

of helping me take my own life.

Absolutely not.

- What about your daughter?
- It wouldn't be fair to her.

I've been an absent mother.

I don't wanna impose my dying on her.

You could at least consult her
and let her be a part of it.

We're two strangers, Ingrid.

She made that clear when I told her
about my doubts about the treatment.

"It's your choice," she said.

And she's right.

Right.

No matter what,

people want you to keep fighting.

This is the way we've
been taught to see cancer.

As a fight... between patient and disease,

which is to say between good and evil.

If you survive, you're a hero.

If you lose, well,

perhaps you didn't fight hard enough.

People don't like using words like

"terminal" or "incurable."

They call that defeatist talk.

Some of the worst stuff comes from
the cancer support community.

Some of them think
of your cancer as a gift,

an opportunity for spiritual growth.

Bullshit!

People should see
this is my way of fighting.

Cancer can't get me if I get me first.

And what's the point in waiting

when I'm so ready to go?

Are you completely sure you're ready?

Totally.

Since the first diagnosis.

You know I have a terrible fear of death.

I know.

I've read your book.

That's why I didn't ask you first.

But you understand me,

- don't you?
- I do, I do.

I envy you. You're in control of your life.

I only need you to accompany me
the days leading to it,

as if we were on vacation.

I just wanna know that, when it happens,

there'll be someone in the next room.

It terrifies me, Martha.

I understand.

I think that you have every right to do this

and I admire you for it,

but I don't know that I can be
the one to find you dead.

I'm not that strong.

You're much stronger
than you think you are.

Anyway, I had to try.

I can't answer you now, Martha,
but I promise you I'll think about it.

Right now I'm too confused
and too terrified.

I understand.

I understand it's sudden,

and it's disconcerting.

I'll think of someone.

I wasn't too much?

No, no.

Martha?

Hello, Ingrid.

I've made up my mind.

Come on in.

The owner is a jewelry designer.

She is a friend of mine,
so I don't pay much rent.

Mm.

You get the impression
it's been furnished

with stuff from the garbage.

Not everything.

And it takes talent to pick stuff
out of the garbage.

You haven't finished moving in.

Do you want a hand?

Uh...

No.

I'll do it after.

And, even so, you're going with Martha.

She is totally alone, Damian.

None of her friends
are helping her with this.

She even told me
I wasn't her first choice.

It's like her daughter doesn't even exist.

In the years I was with her,

she never told me she had a daughter.

I know, it's a...

It's a sad story.

It's a terrible, terrible misunderstanding.

Have you told her that we're in touch?

Uh...

No...

Um, we've talked about you
in a... in a general way.

- She has nice memories of you.
- Oh. Really?

Our relationship was mostly physical.

She was always about to go off
somewhere else,

that's why our lovemaking
had that sense of urgency.

It was like having sex with a terrorist

it always felt like the last time.

Well, she rates you
pretty highly as a lover.

I'd like to know what rating you give me.

Oh, I can't believe
you're still flirting with me.

- I'm serious.
- No, no, you're not serious.

What's serious is Martha's situation.

And your being terrified of death?

You just published a book about that.

Have you overcome that
thanks to the book?

No.

Hi. How are you?

Better.

Much better since you said yes.

Where are you? Are you at home?

Yeah.

I'm watering the plants.

Oh, I thought you had someone
who did that for you.

I do.

But today I felt like doing it
and I am enjoying it.

Okay. Good.

Um, have you... Have you
decided where we're going?

That's why I called.

It's, uh, near Woodstock,
it's about two hours from the city.

It looks fantastic. Uh...

It's a bit expensive,
but, hey, the occasion calls for it.

So, do you know how long...

I've rented it for a month.

That should give me
more than enough time.

A month?

Yeah. My blood count's low

and I have to take a break
before I start the new treatment

and you are the only one who knows
I'm not going back to the hospital.

It's not like I've picked a date.

I mean,

you'll never know it anyway.

But... I'm ready to go.

I would even say I'm impatient.

I'm gonna be giving a lecture

near Woodstock at Bard in two weeks,

so we can see each other.

Mm, I don't think that's a good idea,
I'll be with Martha all the time.

I'll call you if I can.

You're going to need a lawyer.

Yes, I should look for one.

Let me help you with that,
but I'll have to fill them in.

No, no, in that case, no.

This is an absolute secret.

Martha doesn't even know I've told you.

Okay. But if you need anything,
you should let me know.

I worry about you.

Thank you.

According to this map,

we go up these stairs to enter the house.

Okay.

Look at this.

Wow, it's so beautiful!

It's so much more beautiful
than in the photographs!

Is that a real Hopper?

I don't think
they would have left it here.

It's a very good copy.

It looks real.

- Do you hear them?
- Mm-hmm.

Isn't that wonderful?

And we can lie in the sun,
like in the Hopper,

and catch the evening breeze.

Are you okay?

Very happy.

Do you mind if I take this one?

Of course not. It's your house.

Mm. This one is a little small,
I'm gonna look downstairs.

All right.

I'm gonna take this one, okay?

Very good!

You don't mind that
I'm not in the room next door?

I can hear you breathe!

And yell!

Okay!

Here we go.

Let's get you unpacked.

Thank you.

I'll unpack it later.

You're not my caretaker, Ingrid.

You're my guest.

Okay.

Um...

I'll go unpack my things.

- Martha?
- Aah!

What is it, honey?

- You won't believe it!
- What?

I forgot it!

You forgot what?

The pill, the euthanasia pill!

I brought all the others!
We have to go back.

Oh, it's okay, we'll go back
first thing in the morning.

- Don't worry about it.
- No, not tomorrow!

We have to go now!

I just need to be sure
that I didn't lose it or misplace it,

that I didn't just dream it up.

Okay.

Buying another pill would be
extremely complicated.

I have a friend
who knows a mathematician

who found it on the dark web.

It's all very sordid,

not to mention totally illegal.

It's scary

knowing that all that exists

just behind our computer screens.

I feel like a criminal.

I never thought I'd be back here again.

With that wonderful skyline.

Life always surprises you.

All right, let's get to work.

- Okay.
- I'll start in the kitchen.

Don't worry, we'll find it.

Just, um... Just try to think
of all the places

you usually hide things.

This is the first thing I have ever hidden.

Really?

The only thing I can remember
is I put it in an envelope.

Okay. Uh...

Why don't I start in your office?

- Is that okay? Okay.
- Yeah, yeah.

Where did I put it? Where did I put it?

Oh, my God.
We're never gonna find it.

I found an envelope.

That's it!

Where did you find it?

In your desk.

There was key in a drawer
and I opened it.

How could I have forgotten?

I even left the key in it?

Well, you meant to take it,
at the last minute,

you forgot. It's not so weird.

Thank you.

Such a strange sensation.

It's like being here after I'm dead.

Oh, God, don't say that.

It's too soon for you
to refer to yourself as a ghost.

Let me straighten up before we leave.

Thank you.

Forgive me for all this hassle.

I'm sorry, really.

It's okay.

What a great place to return to.

Stupid fridge.

You need some help?

I got it.

You know, maybe

leaving the pill behind
was a kind of a sign?

Maybe you're not as ready as you think.

I told you never to say that to me.

I don't remember you telling me that.

I think I've said so many things to you.

That's the problem with chemo brain.

My memory keeps failing me
and I get distracted so easily.

It can continue even
after the treatment stops

and it can go on for years.

I'll be spared that, at least.

When I write

when I wrote...

I had to proofread a thousand times.

I can't trust my judgement
about anything anymore.

Well...

Then why do you trust this decision?

How do you know
it's not chemo brain, too?

I've left the pill in the top drawer
of the bedside table.

If I forget, which I don't think I will,

you will remind me.

And I prefer not to talk
about this anymore.

Well, it's my business, too,
don't you think?

Sure. Of course.

I'll leave a signed letter for the police

telling them everything,
including the name of the pill

and where I got it.

Your name will not appear anywhere.

All you have to do is to say
that you know nothing.

Don't budge from that.

I don't wanna give you
any more information.

The less you know, the better.

And this is important.

I'll sleep with my door open

and the day that you find it closed

is the day it's already happened.

That's the sign, door closed.

I know it's difficult.

But just think we're on vacation.

You can write, we can come and go...

I don't think I'll be able to concentrate.

And if I write,

you might show up in it somewhere
and I don't wanna do that.

Yeah.

That could complicate your life

if the police investigate.

Well, I'm not gonna do it.

Wait 'til I'm dead.

Oh, God!

Can you not say
"wait until I'm dead," please?

I promise.

I'd like to find a gym
somewhere around here

that I can go to a couple of days a week.

I'm the only one who eats

and I don't want to gain ten pounds
while you waste away.

Oh, give me a chance.

I'll catch up with you.

Look! I'm eating.

I have practically
held death in my hands.

I never imagined it would be
something so light.

Martha?

Good morning.

Good morning!

I'm making breakfast.

You want some toast?

No, just some coffee.

Help yourself. It's already made.

There's juice, fruit

whatever you want.

My behavior yesterday
was unacceptable.

I completely understand
that it drove you crazy.

But in my current state,

I can't make any promises.

So, just in case...

I put a medium range sedative
in this drawer.

And if you find me unbearable,

you just have one and you can relax.

I could have used that last night.

You...

You're one of a kind, Martha.
You really... You really are.

I've made a list of stuff to buy.

We need a few things.

Is there anything you want me to get?

Don't think so.

Do you wanna come
to the store with me?

Maybe another day.

It's so nice here.

I'd like to stay if you don't mind.

No, of course not.

I found a gym nearby, too.

That's great.

I think that's a very good idea.

Okay, well...

I have my phone with me
if you need anything.

Thanks, love.

Hi.

I was hoping I could use the gym today.

Are you a member?

Uh, no. I'm just in town for a little bit.

If you use one of our personal trainers,

you don't need to be a member.

Um, okay. I'll use
one of your trainers then.

You'll like Jonah, you'll see.

Thanks.

So, would you like to start
a warm up doing steps?

- Okay.
- Is okay?

Do you think you can do this
for 30 seconds?

- Um, sure. All right.
- Okay, go for it. Have a try.

And we are on. Okay, nice.

- Keep focus on your leg.
- Mm-hmm.

And, if you can, move your arm...

- Okay.
- Okay, with each step.

And we are done.

Nice. You're pretty strong,
you young lady.

What I am is winded.

Well, if you want,
there are other variations we can do.

I mean, you can go try like this.

You can go back and forth.

Or you can jump on it and go left

and right or back and on the box.

- Okay. Okay.
- Have a try one more.

Nice.

- Focus on your core here.
- Uh-huh.

And breathe.

Inhale and exhale.

Perfect. One more.

Is everything okay?

When the body is in great shape,
it takes longer to die.

When death comes,

the mind wants to go,
but the body keeps fighting.

Heart beating "no" with every beat.

Well

all the more reason to look after yourself.

I live with a friend who's dying.

I'm sorry.

Come. Let's have a seat.

Come here.

Is there anything that I can do?

I wish I could give you a hug,

but we're not allowed
to touch clients anymore

because of the lawsuits and whatever.

And it's a problem,

because it can be hard
to correct people's posture

with just words

and touching is so important.

This world is absurd and inhumane.

I don't see it improving any time soon.

But thank you, I feel hugged.

Oh, I've been meaning to read this book.

Isn't it a wonderful title? Erotic Vagrancy.

Do you wanna buy it?

I won't have time to finish it.

I like the way it's laid out here.

Mm.

Oh, look.

Martha Gellhorn.

The View from the Ground.

She wrote that you only ever
truly love one war,

after that you're just doing your duty.

Which one was yours?

Bosnia, without a doubt.

The fight to survive
by the Bosnian people

against a perfectly equipped army

stole the hearts of all of us
who witnessed the extermination.

There are very few women
war correspondents.

War is a man's thing.

You have to sort of become
one of the guys

and it was never a problem for me,

I've always lived like a man.

Actually, I think
what Michelle really missed

was having a maternal figure in her life.

And in this, I must admit
that she... she was right.

Don't be so hard on yourself.

Hey, look who's coming to town!

The life of the party!

"How bad can it get?

Navigating urban life with integrity."

You feel like going?

No, you know what? I've heard it already

and it's not an evening I'd like to repeat.

We all have
our own personal apocalypses.

Are you having an awful time with me?

No, no, I meant him, his lecture.

Global crisis, climate change.

Yeah.

Hi.

I love your hair.

Nice.

When the nightmares come rushing in,

I think about all the men I've loved.

It sounds like a song.

A good one.

Even if it was just for one night.

Sometimes I think about Damian.

I still think sex is the best way
to fend off looming thoughts of death.

Like those Spanish Carmelites.

Wars turned me into
a promiscuous woman, Ingrid.

Good.

Are you still in touch with him?

- With who?
- Damian.

Um...

You know, from time to time.

"How bad can it get?"

Well

much worse than you imagine,
Damian, honey.

Hey.

Are you all right?

I was trying to write.

I can't.

In this war, I'm incapable
of writing anything.

What about reading?

You love to read.

I've tried.

I've tried with some of
my favorite writers.

The spell just isn't there anymore.

I'm talking about Faulkner,

Hemingway...

I can't concentrate.

My mind just flies off into the void.

If you're too tired,

I could read to you.

Not just reading,

all pleasure's been reduced.

It's hard to know
what to pay attention to anymore.

I have very little time,

and I don't want to waste it.

Okay. Um...

What about music?

I can only listen to the birds singing.

Well, luckily, they give us
a serenade every day.

Music decenters me.

It comes between me
and whatever it is I'm doing,

even if it's just thinking.

Maybe the chemo
is affecting my hearing.

Oh, honey.

I've been reduced to very little of myself.

I long for some peace of body and mind.

And to just talk whenever
I'm invaded by memory.

Am I talking too much?

No, no, no, no. Talk all you want,

I love listening to you.

What's going on?

What's wrong?

Your door was closed,

so I thought you...

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I opened the window

and the breeze must have closed it.

Oh, my God!

Do you think it's fair to be mad at me

because I'm still alive?

Think of it as a rehearsal.

Now you know how it's gonna be.

You know how you're gonna feel.

You're gonna have to make some calls

and act out all the things
we talked about.

And you never knew anything,

and we were on vacation...

Please, just stop!

Okay.

Should we call it a night?

Or does the young lady
wanna keep watching movies?

Did you tell me
that they have The Dead?

Or did I dream that?

Yeah, they have it.

Um, do you wanna watch it?

Yes, please.

Here we go.

Here we go.

Yes, the newspapers are right.

Snow is general all over Ireland.

Falling on every part
of the dark central plain,

on the treeless hills.

Softly upon the Bog of Allen

and farther westward, softly falling

into the dark mutinous Shannon waves.

One by one, we're all becoming shades.

Snow is falling,

falling in that lonely churchyard

where Michael Furey lies buried.

Falling faintly through the universe

and faintly falling,

like the descent of their last end,

upon all the living and the dead.

Do you hear them?

Mm-hmm.

It's daytime,

and you're alive.

Oh, this is too much.

- Yeah?
- This is harder

- than I thought it'd be.
- Okay.

I think I need to sit.

All right. Yeah, let's go sit over here.

Here, let me help you.

Hey, I've got you. Here we go.

Here you go.

Okay.

- That's much better.
- Oh, good.

Before coming here, I made a new will.

Aw, let's not talk about this now, please.

I'm leaving the apartment
and everything in it

to Michelle and you.

I found your war journals in your desk.

What do you want us to do with them?

Is it okay if I read them?

Of course you can read them.

Can I tell your story?

You can do what you want.

I won't be here.

Can I say that?

No.

Okay.

Let's not talk about this now, okay?

All right, I'll see you there. Bye.

Dear Ingrid,

Today is such a beautiful day
that it seemed to me it...

Hey.

Hi.

- Everything okay?
- Yeah.

This breeze is delicious.

Be careful, it's a little chilly.

Um...

If you don't need me,
I'm gonna go to the gym.

But I can stay if you want.

No. Please, go.
I don't want to be a downer.

You're not a downer.

You've been pretty well-behaved.

Have you talked
to your trainer about me?

Um...

Well... I mean, it came up.

I was talking about being in good shape

and the heart beating to survive.

You know, everything that you
talked about in the hospital

and he looked at me like I was a lunatic,

so I told him I had a friend
who was sick. That's all.

Just remember,
you know nothing about anything.

Mm.

Come here, give me a kiss.

- You okay?
- Yes.

- Hi.
- Hi.

I lied to her, I don't like it.

Well, you'll have to practice.

Lying?

Yes. Officially, you aren't aware
of Martha's intentions.

Yeah.

And I found a lawyer,
in case you need one.

Thank you. Let's not talk about this now.

- Mm.
- How'd your lecture go?

Well, they weren't too happy
about my not taking questions.

In the end,

people started muttering
and someone called me a coward.

It doesn't bother me.

I spent way too much time

caring about my reputation,
and for what?

So, what are you doing
with all that time you've gotten back?

Are you doing more of what you love?

I have to admit that my interest in things

has been shrinking as I get older.

Martha said the same thing
a couple days ago.

There are so few things left
that she can really enjoy.

- I understand.
- Mm.

But you're not sick.

No, but I feel the same way,
especially after the pandemic.

I don't go to the cinema
or listen to music.

I... I read a lot,

but only subjects to do with my lectures.

Mm. You still go to galleries?
You used to love that.

When we were together,
we'd go all the time

and talk about how powerful the art is.

You still like that?

Even if every poet in the world
sat down to write a poem

about the climate crisis,
it wouldn't save one tree.

At least you're still interested in the trees.

I'm interested in sex, too.

Well, then you're not that bad.

When I was young,

if a day went by without sex,
I thought it was incomplete.

I remember that.

I'm not nostalgic,
but I miss the nights when we'd drink,

and take drugs, have sex,

all that didn't distract us
from what we really wanted to do.

You drank and you took drugs.

I mean, more than I did anyway.

I don't know how much you drank,

but you always acted as you were
as blitzed as the rest of us.

But you were an essential part
of the party.

That is, until you got bored
and went off to discover Europe.

You want to talk about that?

Tell me about your lecture.

I admit that I've become
something of a monomaniac.

My own son is no longer speaking to me

because I didn't hide how appalled I was

that his wife is expecting another child.

He doesn't want me anywhere near her

for fear she'll have a miscarriage.

What? How could you tell him
that he can't have another child?

- It's their third!
- What...

So, what's the next logical alternative?

For people to start killing themselves?

People should be aware,
once and for all,

of the state of the fucking
planet they're living on.

Well, perhaps this isn't
the best subject for you.

You're living with
a dying woman in a world

also in its death throes.

Do you really think the situation
is that desperate?

Yes. Read the science
and see what the world is doing with it.

They're releasing more CO2
into the air than ever before.

Sooner or later,
and I fear it will be sooner,

all this will be shot to hell, yeah.

Nothing is going to hasten
the end of the planet

more than the survival of neo-liberalism

and the rise of the far right.

And we have both of them here,
marching side by side.

Sorry, I didn't want to bring you down,

but I get riled up with this.

You cannot go around telling people
that there's no hope.

It's tragic.

And maybe it's really
unpleasant of me to say so,

but I've completely lost faith
in people doing the right thing.

I'm living every day expecting to find
Martha's body in her bed,

but that doesn't stop me
from enjoying every minute with her,

just the opposite.

I'm learning from her
and you should, too,

because there are lots of ways
to live inside a tragedy.

Of course it's painful,

but I can take it.

And I'm trying to live

with the same joy that she has,

and with the same appreciation, so

the last thing I need
is a speech like yours.

I've always admired you for that.

What?

You're one of the only people
who knows how to suffer

without making others feel guilty about it.

Do you think it will be much longer?

No, it'll be soon. Any day now.

You have to be prepared.

I know the police.

They'll ask you all sorts of questions,

they'll dig into your relationship
like scavengers.

You need a kind of mental script.

No, I thought about it, I do have it.

Good. Stay strong and stick to your story.

And when it happens,

you should call the police
before you call me.

No, I need to call her daughter.

I should call her before I call you.

Okay, but be careful what you say to her.

I had to tell the lawyer
about the situation.

Why do we have to go through all this,
like we're criminals?

Shouldn't dying people have the right
to end their lives with dignity?

They will, once
our teetering health system

completely collapses.

Martha?

Dear Ingrid,

today is such a beautiful day

that it seemed to me
it was the moment to leave.

It consoled me that you weren't
in the room downstairs,

even though that was the idea.

But you know I always improvise

and I'm almost happy that,

while I fade away on the lounger,

you're out in the world,

experiencing something
different to my death.

No one will be able
to accuse you of complicity.

You have accompanied me

as much as any human being
can accompany another.

Call my daughter and tell her I'm sorry.

And thank you, love.

Martha.

I'll do whatever you want.

We had dinner and then we watched
a Buster Keaton movie.

I told you this already.

And you didn't notice anything strange,

anything that made you suspect...

Try to remember.

I remember it perfectly,
it was a fun night.

There were no gestures?
Nothing she said?

We said goodnight
and then I went upstairs

and I stayed up late reading a book

that Martha had recommended
called Erotic Vagrancy.

It's about Elizabeth Taylor
and Richard Burton.

- Do you know it?
- No.

Martha and I both thought
that it was really fun.

Try to answer
only the questions I ask you.

What'd you do the following morning?

I had lunch with a friend.

And when I came back,
I called out for her

and when she didn't answer,

I went to her bedroom.

But she wasn't there.

So I went into the backyard

and that's when I saw her.

And, at first, I thought that
she was asleep on the lounge chair

and I got really nervous
and I called the ambulance.

And they got there very quickly

and then the EMTs saw her

and then they said there was nothing
that they could do.

Nobody buys this pill by accident

if they're not thinking of suicide
or killing someone,

so, you didn't know anything about this?

About what?

About her being in possession
of this illegal compound.

No. She was taking medication
for the pain,

you know, patches and pills, but she

she never shared the specifics with me.

It is strange that,

if you two were such good friends,

that she didn't say anything to you.

You can't just walk into a drugstore
and buy this pill.

It's very difficult to come by.

I think when she rented the house,

she already knew what she was
gonna do, right?

It's possible,

but she didn't tell me anything.

She was exhausted
from the last treatment

and she wanted to take a break
before going back

for the next round of chemo.

She wasn't the type to throw in the towel.

She didn't complain?

She didn't say anything
that made you sense

the end?

It was a great responsibility for you.

She complained sometimes.

What did she complain about?
What did she say?

She'd lost the capacity for attention.

She couldn't read or write, for example.

Her life was reduced to surviving.

You know, I find it very hard to believe

that she didn't say anything
that made you suspect the end.

It was more than evident
that she was very sick,

but she wanted to take a vacation
before going back to the hospital.

I told you this already.

So, we also spoke to some of
Martha's close friends.

In general, they all coincide
with your testimony.

But one of them, Stella Byrne,

told us that, after Martha
finished her chemotherapy,

that she proposed
that she accompany her

to a house in the country

where she intended to commit suicide.

Asked her to, and I quote...

"Be in the room next door."

And her friend refused.

I wasn't in the room next door,
I was in the room downstairs.

When I spoke to Mrs. Byrne

and informed her of the suicide,

she told me she wasn't surprised.

There's another word for Martha did,
it's called euthanasia.

Well, call it what you want,

but, for me, what your friend
did is a crime

and, as a policeman, as a human being,

as a man of faith,

I'm radically opposed
to anyone committing a crime.

And, of course, anyone aiding
and abetting in one.

Damian, can you come down
to the police station, please?

This is endless.

How do you explain
that your friend Martha

was so explicit with Mrs. Byrne

and yet she didn't tell you
anything about her intentions?

I'm not gonna say another word.

If I'm under arrest,
then tell me the charges.

Otherwise, I'll wait
in the hall for my lawyer.

Very foresighted of you.

What made you think
you'd need a lawyer?

Why don't you ask your friend,
he witnessed the interrogation.

I think you're lying.

And that you're the kind of person
who wouldn't say no

if a friend asked you
for help committing suicide.

Let her go.

Hey.

- Hi.
- Hi.

- How are you?
- I'm okay.

This is my lawyer, Sarah.

- Hi. Pleasure.
- Thank you for coming.

Of course. Damian's filled me in.

Is there anything I should know
about the interrogation?

Well, he treated me like I was the killer.

- But you were with me.
- He doesn't care.

He insists that I'm implicated.

Okay, but...

He spoke to a friend
of Martha, Stella Byrne,

who said that Martha
had approached her first

and she refused to help her.

Okay, well, I'm sure
everything was recorded.

Mm-hmm.

Um, and this police officer
witnessed everything.

You can come in now.

I'll go in alone. I'm her attorney.

Don't worry, this is all very clear.

Thank you for coming.

My pleasure.

Jesus! What an asshole!

I've never been treated like that before.

You were unlucky enough
to come up against a religious fanatic,

but he's not gonna bother you again.

I'm gonna file a complaint.

Thank you so much for everything.

You still need to be available
for the next 48 hours

until forensic formalities are done.

Um, I told them to call me if necessary.

I'll be at the house.

Do you have
all the information you need?

Yes, Damian gave it to me.

Just give me a call
if anything comes up, okay?

I'm gonna head back to the office.

I'm really sorry for your loss.

- Thank you.
- Thanks, Sarah.

Bye.

I can't believe Stella told him that.

Well, he probably cornered her,

and they have Martha's computer
and her cell phone.

Mm.

Do you know if they talked?

No, I don't know,
she didn't tell me anything.

What do you wanna do?

I need to go back to the house
and pack up Martha's things.

Sorry.

Hello?

Uh, speaking.

It's Michelle.

Martha's daughter?

Yes, of course.

No, no, of course you can come over.

I'm headed there right now.
I'll text you the address.

Okay, I'll see you soon. Bye.

Wow. Wow.

I'm headed back to the city,

so tell me when you're back
and I'll help you with your move.

Thank you for everything.

And you can tell me
how it went with Michelle.

I will.

- Thanks. I'll call you, okay?
- Okay. Take care.

Hello, I'm Michelle.

I'm Ingrid.

Hi.

Let's go inside, okay?

Yeah.

Come on in.

Do you wanna see your mother's room?

Yes, please.

It's right down there. Right down the hall.

I made some coffee.

Would you like some?

Uh, I also have tea.

No, coffee's great. Thank you.

Here you go.

Did she tell you about me?

Of course she did.

And she told me you were very upset
that you never met your father.

So she told you about my father?

She did.

Don't you think
she could have helped him

when he came back from the war?

She helped him as best she could.

Your father came back
very badly damaged

and he wanted to move to another city
and start a new life.

His plans never included you or Martha.

And your mother accepted
the end of the relationship and...

And she saw him in such a bad way

that she gave him a kiss
to give him some peace

and that kiss turned
into something more.

And you are the fruit of that moment.

My mother never told me
anything about that.

It's a difficult thing to explain to a child.

She could have told me later.

By then you were so estranged

that she didn't feel
it was possible anymore.

She was a teenager,

she had a life to live,

and your father moved to San Diego
and he made no effort to know you.

So, Ingrid,

do you think I was totally mistaken
about Martha?

You were unfair,

but no one can blame you
for wanting to know who your father was.

It's a sad story,

it was very painful for both of you.

Don't be so hard on yourself,

Martha wasn't the perfect mother.

No, she wasn't.

Can I stay here tonight?

Yes, of course.
This is your mother's house!

Dear Martha,

I thought you'd like to know
I've come back to the house in the woods

to gather up your things.

Your daughter came to see me.

I'm still shaking.

She looks so like you.

She asked me if she could stay
and sleep in your bed,

and, of course, I said yes.

I think your death
has brought her closer to you.

I never thought I'd inherit her,

even if it's just for a day.

The house is filled with you.

When I came in,
after talking to the police,

the first thing I saw
was the door of your room,

and it was open.

And I said to myself, "She's alive."

I came out here to listen to the birds.

Your mother would get up like this,

at dawn,

and lie right there.

Look, it's snowing.

The snow is falling.

It's falling on the lonely pool

we never used.

It's falling on the woods,

where we walked and you lay,

exhausted, on the ground.

Falling on your daughter and on me.

Falling upon the living and the dead.