Original subtitles

Blanca!

What is it?

What?

What d'you mean "what"?

- Nothing. - Nothing?

- Nothing at all? - Nothing at all.

All right then, nothing...

Mom...

What?

He's not worth it.

Yeah.

Books are better than men, Blanca.

Let me tell you a story...

In a faraway place,

there was a very powerful emperor.

One day, he gathered all the wise men of the kingdom.

What are you doing? Put down the book.

And said to them,

"I want a short sentence that works in any situation."

"Always."

And what happened?

Well...

The wise men went away and spent months and months thinking.

Finally, they returned and told the emperor

"We have the sentence."

And what was it?

THIS TOO SHALL PASS

Mom, in the end, we decided not to bury Patum with you.

This isn't the Egypt of the pharaohs.

What's more, burying yourself with your dog is illegal.

Even if it were dead, like you.

Because you are dead, Mom.

The friends, who remember the glorious person you were, did come.

- My condolences. - Thank you.

But some people are missing.

In the end, you fucked us all around quite a bit,

and well, that shows when it's time for the funeral.

Damn it!

"Damn it."

The only words spoken at your burial.

Seems very appropriate, very precise.

Life is not the opposite of death, sex is.

Sex is the only thing that doesn't give you a hangover and briefly banishes death.

- If you have a headache... - Sex.

- If you are sad... - Sex.

If you... feel ticklish...

Sex.

If you... twisted your ankle...

Why aren't we dating again?

Because you'd dump me after two days.

We're still so attracted to each other,

after so many years, that means something, doesn't it?

- But it's not enough. - But we love each other.

Yeah, of course we love each other.

The worst is already over.

The worst and the best.

It's all in the past now.

Why don't you go to Cadaqués for a few days?

The house is yours now.

The house belongs to Mom, not me.

I don't know what I'm going to do about my girlfriend.

I don't know what I'm going to do without my mother.

My place in the world was in your gaze,

and it seemed so unquestionable and permanent

that I never bothered to find out what it was.

It's not bad. I managed to be a child until I was 38.

Two kids, two marriages, several relationships, several jobs.

I don't like being an orphan, I'm not made for sadness.

- Mom! - My love! Hi!

- Hey! - Hi.

- Need help? - Yes, of course.

How are you?

Mom, you look like cat food.

What, this for breakfast again?

- Good morning. - Good morning.

Hey, come over here. What's this?

Let's see...

Mom...

- Can you help me? - Of course.

- Have you had breakfast? - I haven't.

Dad brought breakfast.

Organic apples...

I'm afraid to bite into one and decapitate a worm.

You prefer poisoned apples, don't you?

You're all crazy.

Come on.

Mom! Did you see I fed the kids properly? Isn't that right?

- Oh, really? - Yes.

I didn't give you those frozen pizzas Mom gives you, did I?

You ate healthy and well, right?

- It was lovely. - That's great, my boy.

- Of course. - I'm really glad.

Hey, Guillem. Thanks for staying with Nico.

No problem.

Hey, you. What's up?

Dad!

I've been looking forward to seeing you!

So, tell me, what have you all been up to?

Guillem took us to a pool where they sell cheese puffs.

Cheese puffs...

And special gin tonics for Dad.

Gin tonics, huh?

And cheese puffs... I guess from some organic farm, right?

Hey, when was the last time your Mom took you to the pool?

Never.

Oh!

Look, we brought a little gift for Mom, didn't we?

Yes.

Give me the book.

Here, take your gift.

I can't even open a book. They're no use to me anymore.

Do you remember your mother's "essentials"?

You can know a man by the way he looks at a book, opens and closes it,

and how he turns its pages...

I've closed all the books. They're no comfort to me this time.

They remind me of you.

Of your house lined with shelves,

of your meticulous annual hoovering of your library,

of our expeditions to London in search of some illustrated childhood treasure.

Blanca, how are you? My condolences.

To the hours spent sitting together

and you completely absorbed like a little girl.

Blanca!

We should air the place out. It smells awful.

It's been shut up since then.

Don't look at me like that.

I'm tired of people offering their condolences.

Do you remember the afternoon when your mother was telling stories,

and you said...

"This is the book I want you to write for me"?

You came up with the title straight away...

"Confessions of an Editor".

Not entirely true.

Not entirely true.

The first time I showed her an essay I'd written,

I was eight and had won a prize at school.

I came home all happy.

She told me

not to show her anything else until I had a thousand pages written.

Anything less wouldn't be a serious attempt.

Nothing I ever wrote met her approval.

Oh, come on!

You grew up surrounded by books, culture, artists...

You spent summers on Umberto Eco's knee.

It's in your DNA.

I have to go.

Take care.

In your last book, you wrote about infidelities, promiscuity,

free love, an affair with a woman.

About another love which wasn't me, another life.

I couldn't stand not being the center of all your loves and lives.

I would have loved to go with you to the funeral.

Well, you've done enough already.

Your scent was the only one that erased the hospital's smell.

How are you?

You're not eating anything.

- You haven't tried the croquettes. They're delicious. - Yeah, yeah...

It's just...

Have I told you

that men obsessed with food don't get enough sex?

They go to restaurants with their wives

and talk about the croquette recipe while their wives stare into the distance,

dissatisfied...

and bored.

- Shall we? - Yes.

- Damn it, two single beds! - That's easy to fix, you'll see.

I love your tits.

Are you okay?

You look very pale.

We will see each other soon, won't we?

This weekend I'm going up to Cadaqués with the family.

In case you feel like it. Will you be there?

Are you going to be okay?

Since your death and even before, I feel like all I do is scavenge for love.

The desperate have desperate sex, as they say.

I dreamed about Grandma, Mom.

- Oh, really? - Yes.

- About Grandma? - Yes.

And what did you dream?

Well, Grandma was riding on a cloud with Copito.

Were they going fast?

Very fast. And they almost crashed into a plane.

- Well, a plane carrying other grandmas... - And other Copitos.

- And what else? - They were playing poker.

- Well, I'm sure Grandma was winning. - Yes.

- She was beating them all. - Yes.

Patum?

Come on, let's go!

Cheese puffs, your favorite food.

Come on, 2015 Champions League players.

Okay.

- "Terestegen"... - Ter Stegen.

Ter Stegen, "Piqué" who did "Waka Waka"...

- Jordi Alba. - Yes.

Mascherano.

Yes.

Sitting on the hospital bed, you looked at me

and, without saying anything, you started crying.

- Busquets. - Yes.

But I know you were saying goodbye.

- Rakitic. - Rakitic.

- Rakitic. - Rakitic.

Messi...

I can't imagine how somebody who's dying can find the way to say their last words.

Wait, I'm missing one...

- Mom, I'm bored. - That's good, son.

You can think about your own stuff.

- What stuff? - About Patum.

About Patum, about getting better...

Grandma loved dogs more than people, didn't she?

Edgar, do you think I'm a good mother?

The worst.

He's awake now.

- He's a very strong dog. - Female dog!

Female dog!

But for now, it's best to keep her under observation.

- No. - But she's very weak.

No.

She's not staying alone somewhere as depressing as this. No.

Look, call me tomorrow, and we'll give you an updated report.

- Listen... - Thank you very much.

Could we have a moment alone with her?

Of course. If you need anything, I'm right next door.

Thank you.

Let's take her to Cadaqués.

Go and get your brother.

- Suárez! - What?

Suárez! He's the player I couldn't remember.

I carry with me the things you told me

Your love

My poison

A part of you blooms inside me

My love

My destiny

I am happy

Close to danger

I am only like a desire

Like a desire

Love remains

In this world

And I love you so much

And I love you so much

And I am also afraid

I always carry a piece of yesterday

And once again, I escape

And once again, I escape

I always carry a piece of yesterday

And once again, I escape

I always carry a piece of yesterday

I always carry a piece of yesterday

And once again, I escape

And once again, I escape

I always carry a piece of yesterday

And once again, I escape

And once again, I escape...

- Hi! - Hi!

Finally!

- Hey! Finally you're here! - Precious! Damiano.

- Damiano? - Damiano.

- Yes. - Hi, Elisa. - Hi.

Come on, Mom.

How are you?

Nico!

Hi!

- Can you give me the keys? - I'm coming.

- Come on. - I'm coming.

- Are you getting them? - Yes.

He's Damiano.

- Is anyone going to help me or what? - Ah, yes.

Ah, sorry.

Hi, hi.

- Are you opening the door? - Yes, I'll do it.

Whose is it?

Whose is it? Hey! Give me one. Give me one, I can take it.

We talked a lot about death.

We never thought the damned thing would steal your mind

before taking everything else away,

leaving you with the occasional lucid moment

that would only bring you pain.

Don't bother me, I'm nearly finished. We'll talk when I'm done.

Patum, are you okay? Do you want to go play?

Nico, what's wrong with her?

She just wants to lie here in front of grandma's room.

And has it been a long time since you last came here?

- A long time. Years. - A long time? Years?

This was where I first got drunk.

By then, our love had become very painful.

I thought you didn't love me, and I didn't know if I still loved you.

Happiness slowly ceased to be what it once was.

And the doors of the house,

which had always been wide open for everyone, day and night,

began to close, driven by an invisible gale.

Are you awake?

Sofi.

Let's go to town, come on.

What's up?

Where's your summer spirit? Come on, let's go.

Asleep. Leave me alone, seriously!

Come on.

No, seriously.

What are you doing?

I can't sleep.

Move over.

For God's sake!

I have a howl inside me.

At night, it wakes up and starts prowling like an angry cat.

To calm it down,

sometimes I open my mouth and scream silently.

But I can't fool it, it's still there trying to tear me apart.

Hey, the dishwasher isn't working.

What's wrong?

I was looking for some photos...

You've been looking through them for hours. Give it a rest.

Orange...

I don't know how far away to live from her.

It's easier with the living, believe me.

Come on, let's have breakfast.

Bananas... No, you don't want it, right? Okay.

No, no. Can you pass me the tomatoes?

- Yes, here. - Thanks.

Don't you want some juice?

- No, no. Thanks. Some bread? - Yes...

- Well, croissants? - Yes, do you want one?

- No, half of it. - Okay, let's cut it.

They're delicious!

- You're really hungry, huh? - Yeah.

Hey, wait, did you sleep with that jacket on?

Guess whose it is.

- Mom, can I have ice cream? - Is there ice cream?

No, no ice cream. We're having breakfast.

Oh, no, no. No ice cream, Nico.

I thought it was normal for dinner to consist only of a Sacher torte

from our favorite bakery.

It was mine, but...

Before we even hit puberty, we were already experts in French cheeses

and I knew how important it is to always have a bottle of champagne in the fridge,

just in case.

- Seriously? - It wakes me up.

Into the water!

Such style! Right?

I mean, doesn't she look great, the lucky thing?

People always say that because they assume you're having sex, right?

Yeah, except in your case, right?

You're having sex all day, look at that face. It's like...

You're just jealous.

Yeah, I am.

- "Buongiorno". - "Buongiorno".

Blanca, I love your house. Such beautiful light!

How are you?

We're never as powerful as when we're in love, are we?

We're right in the eye of the storm.

Yeah, like moths to a flame.

Idiot.

I love you, okay?

By the way, who else is coming in the end?

My two exes.

- You're kidding, right? - Seriously?

So? I have a great relationship with them.

Do you think that's normal?

Normal? What's normal? I mean, what does normal mean?

Yeah, what's normal? What's normal? Normality is overrated.

- "Uno schifo". - "Uno schifo".

Oh, and Santi is coming too. With his family.

Oh my God! What are you like?

If you're meeting him with that jacket, give it to me first so I can clean it,

it smells awful.

I'm going to the cemetery.

Blanca, this isn't up for discussion.

I'm going to the cemetery.

I won't let you go like this.

- Give me the jacket. - No, no.

I'm going to the cemetery. Please, I'm grieving.

- Come on, please. - Blanca.

What is this? No, I'm going to the cemetery.

- Give it to me. - Come on, please.

- I'll get hold of her. - Yes, grab her, grab her. Grab her.

- Give me the jacket. - Come here!

No, no!

Is it cold?

You had to clean it...

If I didn't look back,

it would almost seem like life is just beginning.

The landscape is so identical to that of my twenties.

But it is not.

I've watched this house grow old with you, remain alone,

and finally... become you.

You have to read this... because it's wonderful.

Come, Patum.

Come on, let's go to the cemetery.

Do you remember what she used to say every time she pretended to be mad at you?

"If you misbehave, we won't go to Egypt."

She always said, "Blanca, you're bad."

Grandma never said that.

She did, every time she saw you.

Oh, well, she was joking, huh?

Mom, your shoe fell off.

Thanks.

Oh, look... I'm going in here. I'll see you at home.

- Weren't we going to the cemetery? - Oh, the cemetery...

Priorities, huh?

I feel you're a bit tense, huh?

Stiff as a board.

My mother died 34 days ago.

Well... I've got some essential oils that could help you, huh?

You warm them up a bit before bed, I think they'd do you good.

No, thank you. I don't believe in that esoteric stuff...

I don't trust homeopathy, natural medicine, any of that.

- Not even Bach flowers? - Not even the flowers, no.

- What a shame! - Yeah.

Bye, darling.

The poor woman looked at me with such pity...

I'm not surprised.

Lately, I've had this urge to hug elderly women.

I don't know why.

How can you not know why?

Okay, then, I do.

- You didn't go to the cemetery, did you? - I'll go tomorrow.

What are you doing?

Who are you flirting with?

How do you know I'm flirting?

You're all straight and curvy like when you flirt.

- What are you talking about? - Yeah. - No.

- Blanca. - Okay, yes.

I knew it.

Do you remember I mentioned there was a very handsome man at the funeral

whom I didn't know?

- Yes. - Well, he's here.

Really?

I know who he is.

How do you know?

Because I know you, he is everything you like in a man.

Dark-haired, a bit messy, with loose espadrilles...

The kind who doesn't try too hard, right? Go say hi.

- Why not? - What was he doing at the funeral?

And how did he know my mother?

- Well, go ask him. - No, no.

Guillem is here. He's waiting for us on the boat.

Wait a moment, Guillem?

And how does he feel about your other ex coming?

Fine. I love him, and he pretends to hate me.

Though I prefer his hate to the love of a lot of people I've known.

You and your stories. My goodness.

He's a big fan of your retractable boobs theory.

Really? That's just what I needed.

Well... Sorry, but it's actually pretty interesting, you know?

- Him or the theory? - No, the theory.

Wait a moment, please. Nobody move.

"Joe, the shovel, the shovel, in front..."

Dad, stop trying to imitate Grandma. You're terrible at it.

They say most women are actually looking for their father in the men they choose.

I look for you, Mom.

I did it even when you were alive.

Any underhand psychiatrist would have a field day with me,

but mine is only obsessed with me finding a job.

- Come on, kids, let's go for a swim. - Wait, we're just finishing the game.

Don't tell me they play poker, just like grandma.

- Blanca... - What?

Is it true that she taught them how to play poker?

Have you managed to read some of that book I gave you?

- No? - I haven't.

Well, I've learned some things about grief.

They say there are five stages...

There's denial, anger, bargaining...

Damn! I just realized I left my swimsuit at home.

Really?

We had to wait for you for half an hour, and you forgot your swimsuit?

It's fine. Just swim naked, right?

First, a couple of gin tonics, right?

Sure.

- Will you help me? - Of course.

Ice, lemon...

- I'll take the other one. - The other one.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

- Pear and gin tonic? - It's good.

- It's good? - Want to try?

No.

- Have you seen this rock? - Is that where you're going to jump from?

Yes, yes.

It's a little cold, isn't it? Let's go for a swim.

Every day, I try to find your true gaze again, before it turned to stone.

The illness and the pain turned you into a selfish monster.

Mom!

No one ever warns you that while your mother is dying,

you have to become her mother.

You'd call me in the middle of the night to say you were scared,

that the girl wanted to kill you.

When I told you I couldn't leave the kids alone,

you'd get angry and hang up on me.

Mussels for everyone!

Elena's favorite.

It's so sad that you had to be the person at the center of all that nonsense.

Yeah, they called it the "divine left," right?

It wasn't art, or photography, or architecture...

That generation's real legacy was total sexual freedom.

You would have loved to be part of the "gauche divine."

"Gauche divine."

No, "Gauche divine." "Divine."

- A kind of "dolce vita", you might say. - Yes.

Definitely, I was born in the wrong era.

I would have loved to have the freedom your mother enjoyed.

Let's play a game: the first person who mentions my mother loses.

- And... has to do a shot as "punishment." - Yeah.

I adored your mother, so cheers!

- Cheers! - I love her.

- Cheers! - Cheers!

One time she took me and my Dad to Bocaccio when I was a kid.

- Really? - Yes, yes.

She said, "Sweetie, I want to go see some friends nearby,"

"we'll take the car for a while and come right back."

The next day I had to go to school, obviously.

And there we went.

How was it? Did you like it?

Well... I felt like I was inside of one of Fellini's movies.

Huh? Fellini. Fellini, right?

- Fellini is a big-shot, right? - Yes, he's big for such a small child.

How old were you?

I must have been around six.

We are simply a generation

raised by bright, successful and very busy parents.

Committed into making the world a party.

Then I fell asleep on a sofa,

my Dad brought me back home, and it was already morning.

Their party.

- My mother wanted to kill him. - I'm not surprised.

Children weren't the center of the world, like they're now.

Yes.

And we had to make up much more sophisticated methods than just crying.

Well, my mother called me Blanca

because her first great love was her friend Blanca.

But wait, what does that have to do with anything?

Well, you lost. Blanca lost. She mentioned her Mom. She has to drink.

Drink.

Come on, everyone.

- I'll be right back. - Is something wrong? Are you okay?

- Yeah, I'm going to get cigarettes. - But you have a pack right there.

- Those are stale. - So, "I'm going to get cigarettes"?

Is she really pulling the "I'm going to get cigarettes" on us?

I can't believe it.

- Hey, you're a terrible liar! - I do what I can.

Is she for real? Is she really pulling the "I'm going to get cigarettes" on us?

I like sex because it connects me with the present.

And so does your death.

But not Santi.

With Santi I'm always waiting for something special that never comes.

You're tanned.

- How are you? - Good. And you?

Good.

- And the kids? - Good. They're happy to be here.

Do they miss their grandmother?

And yours?

Good.

Lately, I feel like I spend all day changing diapers, but otherwise, I'm fine.

Blanca, I don't have much time.

I said I was going out for cigarettes.

- And when will we see each other again? - One of these days.

I just wanted to see you and know how you're doing,

but I have to rush off.

You're such a jerk.

Honestly, I'm in a really bad place.

It's been three months since we partners got paid,

and right now, even if I wanted to, I couldn't move out.

I can't afford to pay rent.

So you couldn't go skiing either...

Right?

What a shame!

Have I told you yet that you're really beautiful?

Blanca, come on, don't be mad.

Seriously, I can't stand it when you're angry with me.

- It makes me ill. - Oh yes, so ill.

It's true.

I'm not mad.

- Hey, are you okay? - I'm tired.

Of what?

Of everything. I don't know. Of the day.

Of summer. It's exhausting.

The barbecues, the kid, the tooth...

- The tooth? - His tooth fell out.

- Oh no. - I don't care about the tooth. Right?

Ugh, what a hassle, girl.

We didn't have sex, and I think I've set a terrible precedent.

Why?

You shouldn't share everyday stuff with lovers.

No. Everyday stuff, no way. What a nightmare!

That's for stable, happy couples.

Like his, right?

Damiano, are you a DJ or what?

No, no. I just really love music.

Do you make a living from it? Do you play gigs and stuff?

- You're not a professional, are you? - No. For now, I'm studying music.

He's studying.

He's studying, they say. What do you think?

And what do you study?

I study music. I play the cello in the Milan Philharmonic.

In Milan? With all the musicians behind you.

That's right.

It's true.

Wow.

Well, that's really impressive, isn't it?

- Yes. - That's amazing.

Wow.

There are two types of guys.

Those who don't have a sexual radar

and those who think with their dicks all the time, am I right?

- Yes. - Do you all agree?

Civilization survives thanks to the first group,

and the world, seriously, thanks to the second.

It's like that.

Why are you laughing? It's true.

I don't know, but it makes sense to me.

No.

Come on, let's go.

Damiano.

"Amore".

"Amore", I'm exhausted. Shall we go?

"Buongiorno, signorina". Is there any coffee?

- Are you okay? What's wrong? - You know what's wrong.

No, what's wrong? Hey, do you know if there's any ibuprofen?

You spent the whole night flirting with Damiano

and acting like I didn't exist.

- I mean... sorry, sorry... - No, no, you don't get it.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry... but...

- Is this about the peck? - No, it's not about the peck.

No, really... Pep kissed me too...

We were pretty high.

Don't worry. Besides, I know that a lot of people kiss you.

But that's not what I'm talking about.

Seriously, would you even think I'd hook up with your boyfriend?

That's ridiculous, honestly...

We were just laughing, we became friends, that's it.

No, no, that isn't friendship. It's flirting.

There's always a bit of flirting in friendship, Elisa.

Oh, great. Well, you know what? In that case, go ahead, he's all yours.

Right, like I'd want to go out with Damiano.

Seriously... I mean... I don't like your boyfriend, okay?

You know what?

It's very hard to talk to you because you always have an excuse for everything.

Relax, Elisa, seriously.

Kissing on the lips isn't such an intimate thing.

I do it with my kids, my friends, my male friends...

Well, you know, that childish idea you have

where everyone understands each other, kisses whoever they want,

whenever they want,

and goes in and out of relationships like it's nothing,

only works when you don't give a shit about other people.

- I do give a shit about other people. - You do?

Of course I do. It's not true.

Look, aside from your kids, maybe your mother...

You don't care about anyone.

- Blanca, you're selfish. - Me, selfish?

Me, selfish? And you're a coward.

I'm going to the cemetery.

No, you're not.

Damiano is waiting for me.

I'll order some of this cheese next day, okay? I'm so excited.

- Anything else? - No.

- Good day. - Thank you. Have a good day.

- Next? - Sausages, please.

- How many? - Well, quite a few.

"Lightness is a form of elegance," I used to say,

living with lightness and joy is incredibly hard.

- Excuse me, anything else? - Uh, no.

Thanks.

"You confuse lightness with apathy, Blanquita,"

"people take advantage of you," you used to say.

- Who wants sausage? - Me.

The small one for you.

Yes, I want one too.

- Can I have ketchup? - Yes, of course.

Can you cut it for me?

Did you know they believe that there are only male beetles?

Oh, really?

There are no females and that they reproduce by themselves.

- But that's in Egypt? - Yes.

Why aren't Elisa and Damiano coming?

I don't know. I haven't seen them.

Maybe she kicked them out. She could.

- Really? - I don't know.

And Blanca?

I don't know.

Is everything okay?

No, no. We're good. Is the sausage good?

- Delicious. - Delicious.

Sometimes I felt like we were both turning into dry, brittle trees.

But when I told you that, you assured me we weren't...

We were the two strongest people you knew

and no storm could bring us down.

- Stop, stop... oh, damn. - Sorry.

- No. - What? It's fine.

- Just keep soaping. - Yeah, I'm soaping...

- A bit more soap. - Okay, come on. Now you.

- Hey, this water is really cold. - Very.

- Isn't there any hot water? - I don't know.

Nothing works here.

Hey, where were you?

- He burned all the sausages. - That's not true.

- Yes. They were black. - They weren't black. They were delicious.

- No way! - You loved them, and you know it.

Aren't you hungry?

- What's wrong? - Huh? Nothing.

She wants to drink.

- I'm going to get more plates, okay? - Yeah.

Sofía is nice, isn't she?

Yeah, she's quite a character.

The other day, we were talking about you, and she told me...

she loves you a lot.

I love her too. She's very sociable.

Can you pass me the glasses, please?

- You like her, don't you? - What?

Sofía, I mean. You like her.

Yeah.

A little, yeah.

But if you don't want...

If she hurts you, I'll kill her.

And the same goes for you.

I'll go get more plates, okay?

Hello?

Hello?

Blanca?

- Victoria... - Yes.

Thank you for coming.

How are you? Is this a good time to catch up?

Yes, yes. I forgot what time we agreed on. Come, let me show you.

- This is the living room. - Oh, it's lovely!

Yes, it's beautiful, isn't it? Look at the terrace.

Who is she?

I don't know.

- What's she talking about? - Something about the house.

- Oh, the kitchen. It's so big. - Yes, well. A bit old.

And this connects directly with...

- Hi. - Hi.

- With the living room. - Ah, okay.

- To the right. - Is this the master bedroom?

It is, but it's not available to see at the moment.

I'm sorry, the dog's here. Come on, let's keep going this way.

This is the guest room, and this is the kids' room.

They share this bathroom. And that leads to the hallway.

- Here's a closet... Good, right? - Yes.

That door opens to the terrace you've already seen.

And this is the office.

Your mother's office?

Yes.

The salt air has ruined the windows.

I don't know how much money we've spent fixing them.

Anyway, there are lots of things. I don't know, the pipes get clogged...

The appliances don't work... The water doesn't either...

There are things, lots of things.

Well, now you've seen everything.

Yes, it's an incredible house. With a lot of history.

We have a lot of foreign clients who would love it.

- Great. Thank you so much, Victoria. - Goodbye. - Goodbye.

Give me a little, come on.

- You don't smoke, do you? - Wow...

Do you bite your nails?

- And you? - Well, it depends.

You too.

What's going on?

Yeah, what was that?

- What? - What do you mean, "what"?

What's going on?

- Blanca? - Nothing's going on.

- Yes, something is. - It's nothing.

Mom, what are you doing?

I don't understand.

Edgar.

Edgar.

When did you get here?

A little while ago.

The kids are with Guillem and Sofía.

Those two look like a married couple, don't they?

Guillem told me you want to sell the house...

Can you hold my hand and stay with me for a while?

Why don't you talk to me?

Well, we love each other, don't we?

Even though you can't stand me and no one gets on my nerves like you do.

Do you remember

when were on the motorbike,

and you were so mad... I don't remember why.

You made me get off and left me there stranded?

Yeah, and you threw your helmet at me and almost made me crash.

You jerk.

Let's get married!

I want to marry you.

You'll never give up

this chaotic, messy life of yours, Blanca.

Never.

Well, we can be lovers for life, right?

No. Because I want everything or nothing.

- Let's talk about it, please. - We've talked about it a thousand times.

Yes, we've talked about it a thousand times.

Please.

I'll always be here. You know that.

And no one will ever love you as much as I do.

Well, maybe someone will, right?

I'll never be seen through her eyes again.

But now you can be whoever you want to be.

You watched me fall in and out of love,

fall apart, and get back on my feet.

Partly aware, I suppose, that you were the love of my life.

Who're you seeing this afternoon?

The same lot I always do.

And what are you going to do?

Come on, Mom, don't be annoying.

I just never know if I'm doing it right.

When you're a mother, you're so afraid of making mistakes.

It's really hard to know what the right decision is.

And are you afraid of making a mistake with the house?

Edgar will never be as mature, as aware of everything,

as sensitive and responsible as he is now.

And I will certainly never be able to catch up with him.

I owe you, then, all my later loves,

including the wild, blind love I feel for my children.

What? Huh?

What did we say about being on time, my always-late lover?

You're scolding me for being late this one time.

- How are you? - I'm fine.

I don't have much time, and I'm super tired.

Don't you think you use the prefix "super" way too often?

You used to love it. You'd laugh your head off.

I think we should stop seeing each other.

I don't think...

you're the man I fell in love with anymore.

Blanca, hey, the other day...

I'd rather not, I'd rather not talk anymore.

Don't do this, please.

No conversation is more pathetic or more doomed to failure

than two people trying to measure their love.

But I love you.

A lot.

You love me.

A lot.

People who say they love you "a lot" actually love you less,

or maybe they add the "a lot"

because they're afraid of just saying "I love you."

A lot.

The "a lot" makes the "I love you" palatable for everyone.

A beer, please.

Have you lost any shoes today?

- Not yet. - No?

When's your birthday?

- Why? - So I can get you some new ones.

But they're perfect. They're perfect for Cadaqués.

You'll see. Try them on.

Try them on.

Try them on.

Look, this is how the story ends, isn't it?

Why were you at my mother's funeral?

My father knew her.

Don't tell me we're siblings.

When he was young, my father had a music bar in Barcelona,

a small joint... a dive, really.

Your mother used to go there a lot.

- My mother, at a dive? - Yes. She went there often.

Sometimes, late on, my father would grab his guitar and start singing.

Your mother loved it. She always asked for the same song.

One night, my father confessed that he had money problems.

The next day, your mother sought him out,

asked how much he needed, and gave it to him.

Without asking what it was for or when he would pay it back.

She barely knew him.

So, when I heard...

about the funeral,

I wanted to be there.

It was a way to thank her on behalf of my father.

And why didn't you come over and say hello?

Well, you had a lot of people around you.

That's what happens to the relatives of the deceased at funerals, right?

Yes. That's true. Yes, yes.

You would have made my day.

Well,

maybe that day was beyond fixing.

Yeah, maybe not.

I didn't know that story.

Yeah.

Well, I suppose...

we never really finish getting to know our parents completely.

I know that my yearning for love

And your way of loving

Cannot meet

I know that my yearning for love

And your way of loving

Cannot meet.

That one.

That's the one.

We had to win our parents' attention, that's why we're a generation of seducers.

- I'll take that as a compliment. - It is, it is.

All those freckles! I love them.

Like a map of the world.

- I used to hate them as a child. - Well, I love them.

Really?

Has anyone ever counted them for you?

No.

I'm very good with numbers.

Wait, wait. Hold on.

I think what I need is a friend.

I'm a terrible friend.

I'm not that great either, to be honest.

It's been...

an honor meeting you, Martí.

The feeling is mutual.

You know, that's what my mother said to me.

One day, she just turned to me and said, "It's been an honor knowing you."

She was right.

I'm going to go.

Yes.

Where do people go when they die, Mom?

I think they go to the places they always wanted to visit.

So Grandma is here in Cadaqués, right?

And Patum, where will she go?

To a cloud, with Copito. Do you remember that dream?

Yes.

But, can we call them?

- You mean, call them on the phone? - Yes.

We can't, my love.

And can we send letters?

No, we can't.

But we can dream about them,

imagine them, and talk to them...

Once upon a time, in a very, very distant place,

maybe China,

there was a very wise and compassionate emperor

who gathered all the wise men of the kingdom.

Philosophers, scientists, mathematicians, poets...

And he said, "I want you to bring me a short sentence"

"that will be useful anytime in life."

So, the wise men withdrew and spent months and months thinking...

And what happened?

When they returned, they told the emperor, "We have the sentence."

What was it?

"This too shall pass."

That makes me really sad.

As Grandma used to say,

sadness and grief pass.

Just like euphoria and joy pass. Everything passes.

But I know it's not true.

I will live without you until I die.

You know what one of the most terrible things about getting old is?

Realizing nobody is interested in what you have to say.

You placed the entire weight of your dwindling happiness

on my shoulders, Mom.

Even when I distanced myself from you,

I knew that if I didn't,

it wouldn't just be you dying under your ruins.

I did what I could.

Sometimes I also did what I had to do. Not always.

I was never very good at facing misery.

- Neither am I. I'm sorry. - No, don't be sorry.

Our best weapon against misery was laughter.

You gave me a crazy laughter.

A love for all games.

Disdain for anything that seemed to make life smaller and unbearable.

The total absence of guilt

and the freedom and responsibility that come with it.

I remember us at a certain point looking at each other

across a table full of people.

You were smiling at me from afar and I knew that you knew...

That we knew...

And now I know it too.

You loved me.

Not a lot, not a little.

You just loved me, and that's all.

MILENA BUSQUETS PUBLISHED "THIS TOO SHALL PASS"

AFTER THE DEATH OF HER MOTHER, ESTHER TUSQUETS.

THE NOVEL QUICKLY BECAME AN INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER

AND ESTABLISHED MILENA AS ONE OF THE MOST WIDELY READ SPANISH-LANGUAGE WRITERS.